The Heart of the Circle

by Keren Landsman

  I laughed and straightened out the blanket across my lap. “Go for it.”

  My future showed a critical choice between two paths, without explaining the nature of the choice, the paths, or what the decision might lead to. Daphne smirked when she saw the next card – a skeleton clad in black, clutching a scythe.

  “I’m going to die? Because I’ve already heard that from a more credible source.”

  Daphne shook her head. “It means you’re facing either a beginning or an end.”

  “Amazing.”

  “Or death. But it has to be death by completely natural causes. Let’s say homicide, because you forgot to take out the garbage when it was your turn and I had to fight with the creatures lurking inside the dumpster.”

  It got a laugh out of me, and after a few more meaningless rounds Daphne shuffled the deck and we started playing Spit, debating which card was higher, since none of the cards was numbered, and we couldn’t divide them by colors; and also, Daphne kept cheating.

  15

  Matthew spoke to the attending physician, and the two of them decided to change my medication regimen to a stronger combination of painkillers and sleeping pills, so I spent hours drifting mindlessly in and out of consciousness. Matthew promised it would speed up my recovery, but I could barely keep my eyes open.

  One day, as I was slowly waking, barely able to shake off the fog of sleep, a worried presence wafted into the room. I could feel it. It had to be Matthew. I fought off the last remnants of sleep.

  The door opened.

  “Hey,” Matthew said.

  “I came to check on our patient,” Sherry said.

  I wanted to say I was OK, but I was too sedated to open my eyes, to talk. Everything was heavy, impalpable.

  “Still asleep. He won’t talk about… what we discussed.”

  “Yeah, he’s the type that wants everyone to live in peace and harmony.”

  “And let him serve them cappuccinos and cookies,” Matthew said, a smirk in his voice. I heard a screeching sound, and then Matthew saying, “You want to sit?”

  “Thank you.”

  There was a long silence. I managed to float slightly out of the sticky fingers of sleep.

  “And how are you doing?” Sherry asked.

  I tried to remember if anyone had inquired into Matthew’s wellbeing since we’d arrived. No. Not that I could recall.

  “Not great.”

  Silence again. “I know how it feels. Being like this.”

  “Injured and hooked up to every IV on the ward?” Matthew sounded as if he was trying to make a joke.

  “Sitting next to my sister’s bed and praying to every god out there that she’ll live.” Sherry sounded… fragile. I didn’t think she had it in her.

  I made sure to keep my eyes closed. It wasn’t the right time to show them I was awake and listening.

  “You want something to drink? To eat? Our mom keeps bombarding Reed with–”

  “I think you need to talk to someone.”

  “I think my brother needs to stop making me spend every night at the hospital.”

  “I think being the older brother of an empath is almost as difficult as being the older sister of a seer,” Sherry said quietly. “I had no one to talk to either.”

  A chair screeched. “What’s it like to be the sister of a seer?”

  “Lonely,” Sherry replied.

  I heard sniffling.

  “When my sister was little she always warned me before I broke something, and she used to find everything I lost.” Sherry fell silent for a few moments, and when she started speaking again, her voice was quieter. “Soon after I started middle-school, I was invited to a school party on the weekend. She threw a tantrum, wouldn’t let me leave the house. I got really angry at her, wouldn’t speak to her, I yelled, I threatened to tear up her favorite book. The following Sunday, three kids didn’t show up to school. Two were in lock up. One was in the hospital. You don’t think it’s going to be your baby sister who has to protect you. Have you ever wanted to thank Daphne for something she changed, and couldn’t find the words?”

  Matthew let out an audible sigh. “Of course.” I tried guessing the instance he was thinking about.

  Sherry took a deep breath. “Does Daphne know when she’ll die?”

  “Reed says she does. Down to the exact moment.”

  “All seers know. It’s funny. They have infinite possibilities, but only one TOD. And you tell yourself she can’t be right. She’s so beautiful and successful, and has so many friends. It can’t be that she’ll go just like that.” Sherry was speaking so quietly that I had to calm my breathing to hear her. “And then she calls you, in the middle of the night, crying. She made some stupid mistake and now she’s lost, and she feels completely blind. So you run out of the house barefoot, and race over on your delivery moped, and call the police to tell them that your baby sister is spaced-out at some party at the Yarkon Park, and they say they’ll send over a squad car, but you know that won’t happen because who cares about a few drugged up sorcerers in the park. And by the time you make it there, it’s already too late.”

  Sherry paused and took a deep breath. “I don’t know whether she did it on purpose. I think maybe she did. When I got back home from the hospital my aunt was waiting for me. She’s also a seer. She said my sister knew I’d come, that she knew how much I loved her, and that she was with god now.”

  I knew how I would react if someone told me something like that. But Matthew was better than me at masking his emotions. Sherry would never know.

  “My grandma always said that seers are here to fulfill a unique calling in this world. This was a woman who had two daughters and a granddaughter who are seers. Maybe she’s right. I don’t know. The fact is that when my sister’s calling came to an end, she…” Sherry’s voice died down. “The cops who questioned me at the hospital also came to the shiva. They asked if I wanted to volunteer on the force and help them get to those kinds of parties before it’s too late.” The chair screeched again. “That’s what being a seer’s sibling is like. They manipulate us so we won’t know when their end is near, and they keep changing our lives even after they’re gone.”

  When Matthew started speaking, his voice was more brittle than I’d ever heard it. “I was about six years old when I realized Reed was… different. Mom brought him back from kindergarten, he was a sobbing mess. I remember he could barely explain what happened. He still didn’t speak that well, he was only two, maybe two and a half. And I had just gotten home from school, and I was hungry, and I wanted my mom’s full attention. I remember thinking how much, how much I…” His voice was strained. “I didn’t want him. How good I had it before he was born. How much I wanted him to disappear.” He sighed. I couldn’t breathe. “And then he looked at me, and stopped crying, and said, ‘Mat no sad. Ree bye bye.’ And he let go of my mom’s hand, and walked to the door. Just like that.”

  “Sounds awful,” Sherry said quietly.

  “It was. I ran after him and said everything was OK, that he didn’t need to leave, and my mom never understood what I did to make him stop crying. Years later she was still telling everyone how I always knew how to soothe him.” Matthew fell silent. “How did I feel when I found out Reed was an empath? I felt like a six-year-old who made his baby brother want to disappear.”

  One of them sniffled. I assumed it was Sherry.

  “All in the past. Now I’m the successful older brother, and he’s the one getting his ass kicked in rallies because he has ideals.”

  “Yup, all those sorcerers with their silly fight for equality,” Sherry said sarcastically.

  Matthew let out a brief laugh. “Come on, you know what I mean.”

  “I do.”

  After some moments of silence, Matthew sighed. “That’s what being an empath’s sibling is like. We know by heart all the signs of clinical depression, remember exactly what medication they take, know how to spot if something in their room looks off, have the mental
hotline on speed dial, avoid contact when we’re too sad or too happy because it makes them go off the rails.”

  “Luck of the draw. I think you drew the sibling with the better powers.”

  “I drew the sibling who doesn’t eat cucumbers,” Matthew said, and Sherry chuckled. I couldn’t understand how he managed to pull it off.

  “So-” Matthew said.

  “I-” Sherry started.

  They laughed together, and Matthew said, “Do you want, maybe… I know you’re busy, and…”

  “No,” Sherry said. “Not now,” she quickly added, and I knew it was too late even without feeling Matthew.

  “It’s OK, I get it,” he said, his tone more reserved.

  Sherry sighed. “No. You don’t.”

  They both fell silent.

  “I can’t afford it, I’m not like you,” Sherry said, and something of her harshness seeped into her tone. “I might be the sister of a psychic, but I’m not a normal like you.”

  “Being a normie isn’t really a privilege–”

  “It certainly is,” Sherry interrupted him. “You just can’t see it because you didn’t have a sister who navigated your entire life and determined its course years ago.”

  “You can try to resist, try to change that course,” Matthew said softly.

  “Resist?” Sherry laughed bitterly. “Turning a blind eye to the daily injustices carried out against people like me? She gave me the tools to make a difference, and I can’t throw that gift away for a one-night stand.”

  Matthew was silent.

  “I’m sorry,” Sherry said. “But it’s not going to happen. Not now.”

  “I understand,” he mumbled so quietly I barely heard him.

  “Don’t look so discouraged. You’re a real catch. What about Daphne?” Sherry asked, her tone gently probing.

  This time Matthew’s laughter was more genuine. “When a seer tells you ‘it’s not going to happen between us,’ you don’t try again.”

  Sherry joined in on the laughter. “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s OK,” Matthew said with a dramatic sigh. “I’ll be here when you need to patch up your wounded.”

  “I know,” Sherry replied, something about her tone suggesting profound knowledge.

  They were silent, and after a while the nurse came in to get the IV dripping again and I fell asleep.

  16

  A couple of days later, I started feeling better. My range had expanded, and I could already feel the people beyond the walls of my room. The hospital was located smack in the middle of Tel Aviv, and I was constantly exposed to swarms of normies. I felt the gentle percolation of sorcery trickling from them to me, and wondered whether I could trace its source and enhance it to speed my recovery. But it was just a thought, I wasn’t aware of any good way to pull it off.

  Matthew wouldn’t let our parents come visit me. He told them I was in good hands, and that being around me when I was depleted wasn’t safe for them. I assumed he wanted to spare me the emotional strain. I was incapable of dealing with my mother when she was truly worried. To make up for her absence, she sent over massive amounts of food, which I promptly passed down to the nurses.

  Lee, Daphne and Matthew pulled shifts at my bedside. Matthew took over the mornings, between rounds on the ward and visits to the ER; Daphne spent the afternoons with me, between work meetings, and Lee would show up in the evening and open a sketchbook or a proof copy of a book, or just leaf through sales reports. He didn’t speak to me unless I initiated a conversation. He just sat by my side. I didn’t mention what he said to me in the pub, and he didn’t bring it up either.

  Daniel had been transferred from the ICU to the internal medicine ward in the adjacent building. His parents barely left his side. We texted back and forth, pretending we were still at the Sinkhole in a dragged-out nonsensical dialogue to alleviate the boredom of those long days.

  Blaze and River wanted to visit, but Lee vetoed the idea. I had the feeling that he consulted Matthew behind my back. I was secretly relieved. I knew I couldn’t cope with Blaze’s guilt-ridden face and the lovey-dovey gazes between him and River. They sent me a box of chocolates, which Matthew took to the nurses’ station after showing it to me.

  At the end of the week, Lee, Daphne and Matthew arrived together. Matthew had just finished his shift, Lee had a deadline to meet and couldn’t concentrate at the office, and Daphne got bored when I wasn’t around. Their excuses were so sweet that I didn’t mention the fact I could already sense the anxiety seeping out of each one of them. We played Privileged, a card game in which players are dealt cards representing different biological and cultural categories, and their ability to progress in the game is determined by the identity their cards form. Lee was in the lead by a landslide.

  “How’s Sherry?” I asked Matthew while he was dealing the second round. I was a young urban Christian-Arab. Could have been worse.

  Matthew fanned out his cards without looking up at me or anyone else.

  Daphne started giggling. “What, you’re having a hard time with her ‘Call me when you get off your shift’?”

  Matthew blushed and buried his face in his cards. “She’s not interested in anything serious. I’m not interested in anything serious. And you, stop trying to play matchmaker.”

  Lee snorted, and I shot him a look.

  “What?” He raised an eyebrow. “At least someone’s getting something out of this giant mess you’ve got going in this country.”

  “It’s your country too, you know,” I remarked.

  “Pass.” Lee tossed two cards on the table and drew two from the deck. “I have enough countries, and some of them even have snow and none of the insufferable humidity you’ve got here.”

  “They also don’t have suicide bombings,” Daphne muttered under her breath, and we all fell silent.

  “You know why,” Lee said, staring at her, his faint smile gone. “Because where I’m from when someone tries to hurt the community, he won’t make it through the night with his sanity intact. And if he’s one of us, he simply won’t make it through the night. Fire is a very effective punishment.”

  “Yeah, judge and jury be damned. Brilliant idea.” Matthew was holding his cards so tightly they started to crinkle. “An excuse to blow people up is just what this country needs.”

  “You know what they say, you can’t make a revolution without breaking a few kneecaps,” Lee said.

  “Enough,” I said loudly, attracting stares. And then again, in a softer voice, “Enough.”

  Lee clenched his jaw. “All I’m saying–”

  “I don’t want to hear it,” I said, my hands almost shaking. “I don’t want to hear how we should be hanging anyone who steps slightly out of line, I don’t want to hear how we should kill all the fanatics, and I certainly don’t want you to suggest breaking the kneecaps of anyone who doesn’t follow our rules.” I glared at Lee. “Or maybe you meant we should be breaking the kneecaps of moodies who maneuver an entire pub so no one will die?”

  “No, that’s not at all what I meant,” Lee said, looking at me. Then he flashed a tiny smile. “I’m actually a pacifist. I think we should only kill people who don’t play when it’s their turn.” He placed an even card on the pile. “White man from the city center. Who wants to bet against me?”

  “Would someone be willing to build me a train to advance my employment prospects?” Daphne asked, and tossed down all her cards. “This game doesn’t exactly work your imagination.”

  I put down my character cards. As an Ethiopian child from the south, I didn’t stand a chance.

  17

  They changed my meds again; the pain had lessened, and my mind was sharper. When Matthew was busy on the ward, I took advantage of his workload and snuck in to visit Daniel. He was lying in bed on the general ward, surrounded by balloons and chocolates. He smiled when I walked in, and I was flooded with his joy. There were two more beds in the room, both with disheveled sheets. Toiletries were strewn on one bed, a
nd a partially packed bag on the other.

  “I don’t have roommates,” I said, approaching his bed.

  “Let’s switch,” Daniel said. He pressed the button on the side of his bed, which heaved him into a seated position, and sighed. He was still hooked up to the IV that was trickling something into his vein, but at least it was just one IV.

  “Do you really want to lie in a ward packed with sick sorcerers?” I put my hand on the side of his bed. “Fireballs everywhere, icicles suddenly materializing in the middle of your room…”

  Daniel smiled. “Not really.” His pallor brought out his freckles. I asked him about his family, and he showed me photos and a video his daughters had sent him. He had decided not to tell his girlfriend about what happened until she returned from her trip. I didn’t question his decision.

  “He was yelling ‘Death to sorcerers,’ you know?” His gaze was full of worry. “I thought… I thought those kinds of things only happened in the suburbs, or other cities. Maybe Jerusalem. It’s supposed to be safe here for… well, you know.”

  Of course I knew. I envied Daniel’s innocence. “Here, there and everywhere,” I sang. I thought about how Lee had suggested breaking the kneecaps of anyone who strayed from protocol, and yet he still called himself a pacifist. I needed to ask Daphne whether they were targeting me, or just wanted to wreak some havoc.

  “You know why… I mean…” he fumbled, clearly worried about me.

  “I’m fine, don’t worry.” I managed to wrest a smile. “Just a few nutjobs looking to stir things up. Like always. Once it starts raining, they’ll calm down and crawl back to their holes.”

  “Matthew was here. He said you have a problem with your…” Daniel paused, biting his bottom lip, “your thing.”

  I didn’t know Matthew had visited Daniel, but it made sense. We were in the same hospital, and Matthew’s heart was bigger than his whole body. “There was one day when I couldn’t feel anyone. It passes.”

  “It must have been difficult for you,” he said, a smile creeping onto his face, “without your hot chocolate.”