Laurie replies, “We both had to.”
I remember the elevator doors opening and then nothing.
* * *
Episode two:
The blaring sirens bring me back to consciousness. The Upper West Side has been invaded by triage units: the result of Maxwell Arbus’s cursing spree through our neighborhood. The upside of this horror is that my condition doesn’t strike the EMTs as strange. I’m just one of a dozen or more victims. The downside is, well, obvious.
As I’m transferred from Laurie’s arms to a gurney, I lift a hand towards Stephen, who is hanging back.
“I need him,” I say to the EMT who is pushing the gurney to a waiting ambulance, which also takes me away from Stephen.
The EMT glances at Laurie. “He’s right here.”
Laurie bends down, whispering, “The ambulance is too crowded. He can’t get in without bumping up against somebody. It’s too risky.”
I shake my head and Laurie says, “I told him which hospital. He’ll meet us there.”
The ambulance doors slam shut and the wail of its siren sends a new wave of darkness to swallow me.
* * *
Episode three:
The room is too bright and I’m covered in a sheet that’s too scratchy. The itch concentrates in the crook of my right arm, but when I attempt to relieve it by rubbing the culprit spot with the heel of my hand, I’m rewarding by a sharp pain.
“Oh!” The needle joining my vein to the IV drip punishes me for disturbing it.
My cry brings someone rushing to the bedside.
My mom presses her palm to my cheek like I’m three. “Sweetheart, you’re awake.”
“You know who I am,” I say. My eyes sting with sudden tears.
“Of course, Elizabeth.” Mom glances at the IV. She must think that the medicine has skewed my mind towards looniness. “How are you feeling?” she asks.
“Weird,” I say. Vague, I know. But I don’t really want to say that my body feels like a million overstretched rubber bands and that I still taste blood.
“You’ll probably feel weird for a while.” Mom smiles and looks across the room. Following her glance, I see Laurie seated in one of the hospital room’s chairs. Stephen is sitting beside him in the other chair. Without looking at Stephen, Laurie gets up and comes to join Mom.
“Hey there,” Laurie says. That withered effect from earlier is still touching his eyes.
“You okay?” I ask him. When I stretch out my hand, he catches my trembling fingers in his.
“Let’s not worry about me,” he answers. “I didn’t try to donate four gallons of blood to the pavement.”
“What happened?” I ask Laurie, knowing he’ll understand that I mean, What does Mom think happened?
It’s Mom who answers. “They just don’t know, honey. So many people were affected. And after what happened in the park, they think it’s some kind of neurotoxin.”
I groan. Even dead, Maxwell Arbus leaves us a legacy of his curses: a paranoid city, hunting for a culprit they’ll never find, but always fear. It would be so much better if I could tell Homeland Security and the NYPD that they can stop their investigation right now. That this mess was made by a cursecaster run rampant, but he’s gone and we can all get on with our lives. But that won’t happen. I don’t want to be transferred to the psych ward.
Stephen is still sitting. Mustering what sass I can, I smile in his direction. “You shy in front of the family or what?”
Laurie coughs. “You know I’m never shy. Mom has been watching the news, so she knows more.”
I cast an irritated glance at Laurie, still speaking to Stephen. “Glad you found the hospital.”
Mom’s hand moves from my cheek to my forehead. “Are you feeling all right, Elizabeth?”
“What do they have you on anyway?” Laurie pretends to fiddle with the IV bag, but his eyes shoot me a warning.
I go silent. What else can I do? Stephen stares at me, remaining perfectly still. He is here. With me. And nothing has changed.
I am the only person who can see him.
Pain flares through my limbs as my body tenses, straining against all the questions I can’t ask with my mom here. What the hell happened? Why was I covered with blood and half-conscious if Stephen is still invisible? What does it mean that he’s invisible and his grandfather is dead?
“Elizabeth?” Mom murmurs, but I hear the worry in her voice. “Should I call the nurse?”
I am shaking my head, grateful, when her attention turns to a knock at the door.
“May I come in?”
I’m sure I’ve imagined the sound of Millie’s voice, but a moment later I see her papery white skin and familiar face marked by wrinkles that seem to have worn deeper since I last saw her. Millie is wearing a black dress and black gloves. My stomach knots up when I remember why.
“How are you, dear?” Millie questions me before she’s introduced herself to my mother.
I’m fumbling for an explanation of her arrival, but Mom speaks first.
“I think the meds are making her a bit fuzzy,” she tells Millie. “But the doctors say no permanent harm was done.”
“Thank goodness.” Millie offers my mother a reassuring smile.
“Do you two know each other?” I am imagining some covert meeting that Millie arranged with my mother, all the better to regulate my activities.
Laurie pipes up. “I called Millie. I thought she’d want to be here.”
“And he was right.” Millie nods.
“I’m glad Laurie had the sense to introduce us.” Mom gives me a pointed look. “The next time you get a job, I expect to be consulted about it.”
“A job . . .” I glance at Laurie, who picks up where I left off.
“At the comic book shop,” Laurie says. “I know it’s only part time, but you’ve talked so much about Millie. I figured I should let her know what happened.” He forces a laugh. “Didn’t want you to get fired for missing work.”
“Laurie,” Mom chides.
“Too soon for jokes?” Laurie mock-slaps the back of his hand.
Mom sighs.
Stephen is still in the chair. Silent.
“Mom, could you get me some juice?” I ask.
“There’s water.” Mom picks up a glass. “I don’t know if you can have anything else yet.”