“I would love to rest for a little while,” Elizabeth says. She looks at Millie. “I’ll see you tomorrow. I promise I won’t do anything until then. I’ve learned my lesson. I went too far.”
Millie seems satisfied by this. “No cursewatching,” she says. Then she points in my direction. “Especially not with this one.”
I think Elizabeth’s already learned that lesson.
Saul is at the door, and Millie follows, looking back at Elizabeth every two seconds to make sure she’s doing the right thing. My father closes the door behind them and makes a show of locking it.
“Dad,” I say, “would you mind leaving us alone to talk?”
“Stephen, I’m your father.”
“And Dad, Elizabeth’s my girlfriend. I want to talk to her. You do not need to be in the room when I do.” Elizabeth looks at me like I’m being too harsh; she has no idea what the history is. “Look,” I say, tempering my tone, “come back for dinner. We can talk at dinner.”
Now my father looks awkward.
“I’m afraid I—well, I have dinner plans tonight.”
I don’t have any right to be annoyed, but I am. My drawbridge, not his.
“Fine,” I say. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Breakfast,” my father says. “I will be by for breakfast.”
“It was good to see you, Mr. Swinton,” Elizabeth says. Even though she’s clearly weak, she has enough strength for niceties.
“Good to see you too, Elizabeth,” he says, and I’m surprised he’s remembered her name. As he goes into “the other bedroom” to get his laptop, I move to the couch with Elizabeth. Not to the point of crowding her—I know she needs air, space. But I want to be just out of the range of contact, in case she suddenly needs it.
My father says nothing but goodbye before he leaves. Once he’s gone, Elizabeth keeps looking at the door, or at everything beyond the door.
“It’s just us now,” I tell her. “I want to know everything.”
She tells me about the subway, about what happened to her.
“You can’t push it too far,” I say. “Not until you’re ready.”
“I know that,” she snaps. “Please, don’t join the chorus on this one. It’s already loud enough.”
We sit there at an impasse. She’s lost in her thoughts, and I’m lost in not being able to know them.
“We have to find him, don’t we?” I ask. “That’s where this is all leading, isn’t it? If he leaves a trail of curses, we have to follow. That’s how we’ll track him down.”
“I’m guessing that’s Millie’s plan,” Elizabeth says. She doesn’t seem happy about it. “But I also think she has much more faith in me than I deserve.”
“Don’t say that,” I protest. “You don’t know—”
“Stop. I wasn’t saying that for your affirmation. Don’t treat me like a girlfriend who just asked, ‘Does this make me look fat?’ You have no idea what my abilities are. None of us do. And to have everything balancing on them . . . that’s a lot.”
“Look,” I say, touching her face, using that touch to ask her to look me in the eye, “nothing is in the balance here. If we don’t find him, that’s fine. I stay invisible. I’ve done fine so far. It’s enough to have you see me. Nothing truly bad will happen if we don’t find him. No one’s going to die.”
When I say this last sentence—No one’s going to die—she flinches, turns away.
“What?” I ask. “Has he cursed someone to die? Is there more I don’t know?”
Elizabeth shakes her head. “No. It’s just . . . Millie makes it sound like what I’m doing is so important. All of these people are cursed—and I’m one of the few people left in the world who can help. I don’t know how to deal with that.”
I want to tell her how. I want there to be an answer. But the only answer is this:
Our lives are different. Inexplicably, intrinsically joined, but different.
“I was only scared after,” she tells me. “During it, I was too overwhelmed. Fear is beside the point when you’re faced with the thing you fear. But after, I knew I’d come close to something really bad. Curses aren’t passive things. They’ll fight back.”
I tell her, “Even though I didn’t know it was a curse, I thought I could break it.” I haven’t had these memories in years, and now here they are, waiting to be given. “I thought there was a way for me to fix it. Not just prayers—I tried a lot of praying. But I also tried other things. Harmful things. I heard something on TV about shock therapy. I didn’t even know what that meant. But the next time I was alone in my room, I shoved my finger into a socket. I held it in there as long as I could. My parents had no idea. Luckily, it was too much, and I had to pull away. And for a second, I thought the pain was so strong that the next time I blinked, I’d be able to see my hand. I’d be visible. But of course I wasn’t. Part of me wonders if death will do it. That when I die, my body will finally be seen. My grandfather’s last laugh.”
“Don’t talk about dying,” Elizabeth says, her voice unsteady. “And don’t put your finger in any more sockets.”
“What happens if we find him?” I ask.
“I don’t know. I really don’t know.”
She looks so tired. Drained.
“It’s okay,” I tell her. “Sleep here. Just sleep.”
I stand up so she can stretch out on the couch.
“I’ll call Laurie,” I tell her. “I’ll let them all know where you are.”
“And that I’m safe.”
“And that you’re safe.”
I get her a blanket, turn off the lights. But before I can go, she says, “I want you there with me at Millie’s. I want you to be my shield.”
I have no idea what she’s talking about, but I tell her yes.
* * *
When I go with her to Millie’s the next morning after a strained breakfast with my father, Millie will not let me in.
“It’s too dangerous,” she says. “When Elizabeth opens herself up to the curses, you cannot be around. If she happens to look at you when she is that vulnerable—I don’t want to say what might happen.”