The Heart of the Circle

by Keren Landsman

  “Oleander’s right,” Lee said, leaning closer to Daphne.

  She looked at him. “What?”

  “Oleander’s right,” he repeated quietly. “It’s not your fault. None of us is at fault.”

  Sherry bit her lip. Daphne bowed her head. Oleander and Lee exchanged glances.

  “You need to take your mind off it. Let’s look over there,” Oleander said, pointing at the horizon. “There’s a tyrannosaurus over there.”

  “No way,” Lee said, elbowing him. “It’s too deep, and there were never any tyrannosauruses here anyway.”

  “Enough,” Daphne whispered, and the two fell silent. She looked up at Oleander. “I can’t. You understand that, right? I can’t look at anything else. I can’t fast forward and rewind water reflections to soothe myself. I can’t do anything other than look at what happened at the ditch or what’s going to happen to Reed and look for a…” She paused, and turned all of her focus on me. “You don’t take the edge,” she whispered.

  “What?” I jolted.

  “Before Gaia… before the ditch. We found an edge and we’ve been working our asses off to sustain it, and you won’t choose it,” she panted. “What’s your problem?”

  “What?” I repeated, unable to make sense of her mumble.

  “You won’t take the edge,” she whispered, gaping at me. “I can see it so clearly now. Lee’s there, and Sherry’s there, and you move. You just leap into harm’s way. Just like… I’ll never forgive you for it. Just so you know. Even years from now. I’ll stand over your grave and I won’t forgive.” Daphne was clutching Lee, her fingernails digging into his skin. “You tell him. Tell him you won’t forgive him if he doesn’t choose to live.”

  “I don’t understand…” Lee said, staring at me, then turning his gaze to Daphne.

  Daphne closed her eyes. She took a deep breath, exhaled slowly and opened her eyes, looking at Lee. “You have another week and a half together.”

  I felt the pit in my stomach deepening. I blocked everyone out.

  Lee turned pale. “I don’t want to know.”

  “Too late. You know. A week and a half.” She pointed at me. “You’re going to spend every minute of it together. And now you need to convince Reed that you deserve more than a week and a half with him. That you’ll suffer if you don’t get more than a week and a half. If he changes his mind, it’ll only be because you managed to persuade him.” Her voice petered out. “He won’t listen to me.”

  “Daphne,” Oleander said, stroking her forehead, “what do you see? Show me.”

  Daphne looked him in the eye. “They’re trying to kill some girl who’s standing next to Reed, and once he realizes it he deflects the shooter. He picks up on his intention and tries to do what Aurora did, make him aim at the feet. But he’s not as skilled as she is. The bullet hits him in the stomach. It ruptures the liver and severs the aorta. It tears him up from the inside. Reed dies before any of us manages to reach him.”

  Lee’s hand was sweating inside mine. He wasn’t moving. “He can’t be there.”

  “No,” Daphne said.

  Lee looked at me, and shifted his gaze back to Daphne. “Why is he there?”

  She took a deep breath. “Because he’s part of the circle that’s protecting Sherry.”

  I felt the sadness flooding me. I didn’t know if it was Lee’s or mine. It might have even been Daphne’s. “Me in exchange for Sherry? That’s the edge?”

  “No,” Sherry whispered. “That’s not what happens.” She turned to Daphne. “That’s not what you said was going to happen.”

  Daphne looked like a character from a black and white film. Flat. Her edges were too sharp, too bright. “They changed something. I warned you that edge wasn’t stable.”

  “You’re both wrong,” I raised my voice. “That’s not what happens.”

  Daphne looked at me. “If you’re not there, Sherry will die.”

  “I won’t die,” Sherry said, her voice puncturing our bubble. “Even if the edge you saw won’t work, it doesn’t matter. We’ll find another edge. It can’t be that–”

  I felt the knot in my stomach turning into a rock. I knew for sure that Lee would die a year after me. I could imagine his corpse, pale and lifeless, tossed in some alley with a needle stuck in his arm.

  “They closed it all. There’s no other edge. Because the Sons of Simeon have to kill you.” Daphne clenched her jaw and looked at Sherry. “They see your impact. In four more years you’re elected to parliament. In fifteen years, you’re elected prime minister. There will be no more murders. No more movements calling for the segregation of sorcerers. No more Sons of Simeon. That’s why they’re trying to kill you at the rally.” Daphne paused and looked at me.

  My mind was racing. We’d cast a protective circle around Sherry. And then they’d kill me. And then her. No. Not her, otherwise the future Daphne and Dimitri talked about wouldn’t come into being. They’d aim at her, I’d move. They’d kill me, and then aim at her in the hope of eliminating her before she came to her senses, and then… and then she’d be Sherry, and lead the battle even though she wouldn’t be protected, and everyone would follow her. The certainty was frozen in my stomach. It was obvious to me that I had to die in order for her to live.

  I felt the despair overwhelming Lee.

  Daphne looked at him. “It’s funny. How our world is falling to pieces right in front of us.”

  “Hilarious,” Lee said, his voice cracked.

  “Enough,” Sherry interjected. She looked at me. “I won’t accept it. You don’t die. I don’t die. Enough of that.” She looked at Oleander. “Tell Daphne she’s wrong. You know that’s not what happens.”

  Oleander shook his head. “I’m not close enough to Reed to see it.”

  “But you can see the rally!” Sherry raised her voice. “I’m not the person that gets Reed killed!”

  “No. He dies because of who he is,” Daphne said quietly, and we all looked at her. She had her eyes fixed on me. “I see it so clearly. Reed tries to be a hero. You try to be a hero. In the end, I’m the only one standing there, over my best friend’s grave, and my flowers aren’t enough to cover it.”

  “I’ve heard enough.” Lee stood and tugged my hand. “Come.”

  I stopped. “I’m not done yet. We have to think about it. There must be a way.”

  “No,” Lee cut me off. His words rapidly gushed out of his mouth, “You or Sherry. Just like you said. And I know you well enough to know what’s going to happen.” He clutched both my hands and pulled me up. “We’re going to my place now. And we’ll do whatever you want. Anything.” His voice was trembling. “Now, Reed. Now. I have a week and a half with you. Come. Now. I need you. You can go save the world in a week and a half. Now, I need you.”

  His tears were pouring out uncontrollably. He wasn’t trying to hold them back. My eyes welled up on their own. I looked at Daphne. Sherry collapsed on the sand. For a moment, she looked like a damus in the middle of a flooding vision.

  “Go,” Daphne urged me.

  We left.

  37

  The sun was almost up by the time we fell asleep. Lee was burrowing under the blanket, hugging me. His body was limp, giving off the scent of soap and shampoo.

  “Don’t die,” he said, the pain pulling at the corners of his mouth. “I know that –” He paused. I reached out to caress him. He grabbed my hand and held it flat on his chest. “I know you well enough to know why you choose what you choose. But…” He took a deep breath, and I felt his overwhelming anguish. “Please, try not to die.”

  I kissed him, dragging out the kiss as much as I could. When I pulled away from him, tears were trickling out of the corners of his eyes. He sniffled. “I’ve cried more since we met than in the past ten years.”

  “I haven’t been as happy in the past ten years as I’ve been since we met,” I replied. It wasn’t accurate, just close enough to what he needed to hear.

  Lee bit his lip, sobbing in quiet whimper
s. I lay down beside him and pulled him closer to me. He rested his head in the crook of my neck, drowning out the world in my shoulder. I felt him shiver in my embrace.

  I slowly took his pain and absorbed it into my veins. As I extracted it, his crying abated. I took the tenderness I felt for him and planted it in the part of him that was filled with softness. Lee realized what I was doing. He pulled away from me, his cheeks shining with the tracks of his tears. He looked me in the eye. Slowly, together, we entwined our feelings. I was still able to tell us apart, but the boundaries blurred.

  He started moving above me, his body accentuating the veins I highlighted. I wasn’t searching for the boundary between us, didn’t even try to parse how much of what I was feeling was mine, and how much of it was his. I sank inside him, yearning for his touch.

  38

  The hours turned into days that melted into one another. I didn’t bother to glance at the clock or check the calendar. We switched off any device that could remind us of the existence of time. The only connection we made with the outside world was a message Lee had sent to Blaze, saying he was sick as a dog and expecting to recover in a week and a half. I perused all his books, trying to fix those I found lacking in emotional design. We compiled a list of my favorite episodes of TV shows and saw them in alphabetical order. I went over his music collection and catalogued it by ‘songs Reed really hates’ and ‘songs Reed despises.’ Our musical taste couldn’t have been more different. We ate when we were hungry, showered when we wanted to feel each other under the current of water. Our conversations turned into emotional waves, combining words only when we wanted to be more accurate. Our feelings flowed in unison. I couldn’t tell us apart when we were awake. It was only when we slept that our emotions sprang back into place.

  One morning I woke up in my bed with an urgent need to pee. The surroundings made no sense. The sheet was purple instead of white, there was no wardrobe, just a clothes rack, and a pile of books rested against the wall.

  Lee. I was in Lee’s house. In Lee’s bedroom. In Lee’s empty bed. It only seemed like my bed because our feelings were so intertwined that it felt so snug and homey. I didn’t know what time it was. The days had blurred into each other. I couldn’t remember what had happened when, only the tears that turned into passion and fits of laughter. I poked around and felt Lee, slightly far from me. I managed to get myself out of bed and stagger down the hallway. I could barely remember last night. Lee had drowned me in his emotions, and I was only vaguely aware of what was happening inside my own body.

  Now I was paying the price. I felt the tension in tendons I hadn’t even known existed, and my neck was stiff. I wondered what position we had slept in last night that left my neck so unbearably rigid. I heard a trickle of water and opened the bathroom door. Lee was standing in front of the toilet. He turned to me and blushed. “I had no idea our relationship had already reached this stage.”

  He spoke, so I spoke too. “What are the chances you have another toilet hidden in this place?”

  “Wait a sec,” he said, turned around and sent me a very clear wave of embarrassment.

  I left the bathroom and leaned against the wall. Don’t think about peeing. Don’t think about peeing. Don’t think about…

  I heard Lee flush the toilet and then wash his hands. He stepped out and said, “All yours.”

  When I got out of the bathroom Lee was already in the kitchen, mixing pancake batter, wearing pants.

  “I don’t get it.” I walked up to him. “I throw all my fantasies at you and you don’t even blink. I go into the bathroom while you’re there and you turn into a tomato.” I slid my hand between his pants and the small of his back. I focused my passion on him. Lee froze mid-movement. “And I also don’t get why you even bothered getting dressed.”

  Lee turned to me. He looked different. He had a light shadow of a beard and his cheek was creased from the mattress. “I have work to do.” He held the whisk in one hand.

  “Really?” I asked, reaching out and snatching the whisk from his hand. “Or are you just looking for a reason to avoid me?”

  Lee took the whisk back and turned to the kitchen counter.

  “If you want food, don’t get in my way.” There was something different about him. He was distant, and wasn’t immersing himself inside me as I’d expected.

  “I’m not hungry.” He was avoiding me. Now it was clear. What had I done wrong? Why…

  I put my hand on his back, between his shoulder blades. “Lee.” I tried to imbue his name with softness. To utter it with tenderness. To calm him down. It didn’t work. I felt his wave swelling. Underneath the insecurity was the unequivocal knowledge of our imminent separation. The thing we wouldn’t discuss.

  “I’m still here,” I said, maintaining a calm, steady voice. “I’m happy here. I’m happy with you.”

  “You’re in pain,” he cut me off without turning to face me. “And before? That was me, not you. So…”

  “So I woke up because you needed to pee? Great. It was really stupid of us to intertwine ourselves like that.”

  Lee shrank into himself. Just a little. The guilt inside him was surfacing right in front of my eyes. Instead of talking, I caressed and dismantled it. Lee finished flipping the pancakes. I sliced two tomatoes. He took the maple syrup out of the cupboard. We moved around the kitchen in silence. When I wasn’t thinking about it, we acted as two bodies with one mind.

  But he was still half-dressed and scared of the moment I’d leave, and I was still naked and aching, and all I wanted was to crawl back in bed with him and feel whole.

  Lee dished up the food. I followed him into the living room and sat down beside him on his frayed couch, leaning half my body against the armrest.

  “I’ll dismantle it,” he said, talking into his plate without looking at me. “My feelings will stop getting in your way.”

  I cleared my throat. He wouldn’t look up from his plate. I cleared my throat again, loudly this time.

  He finally looked at me. The green of his eyes struck me. A thought had crossed my mind. There was something I was going to say before he looked at me. “Your eyes are so beautiful.” I moved in closer to him.

  Lee lowered his gaze. “You’re just saying that because we’re entwined. Soon you’ll–”

  “You’re an idiot.” I remembered. That’s what I wanted to say. “You really think I’m mad at you because our feelings our intertwined?”

  “Noooo,” he intoned. “I think you’re hurting because of me, and I’m mad I didn’t realize it in time.”

  “Yes. I’m hurting. And yes, your feelings affect me.” I put my plate down on the floor and held his hand. “Now let’s see how much my feelings affect you.” There was a moment when I decided I wanted to be with Lee. I remembered the moment vividly. I focused on it, bundling up all the warmth and need I had felt, and sent them to Lee. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, his expression softening.

  That’s what I wanted. That was the Lee I needed. I took his plate from him and placed it next to mine, sending him another wave. It was easy when we were so immersed in each other. I scooted closer and tilted him back. His lips parted.

  “What I need,” I said, making sure my voice came out clear and confident, “is you.” I straddled him. He needed me just as much. “And I need you not to get dressed when I want you so bad I can barely think.”

  I fumbled with his zipper. Of course he had to put on proper pants, couldn’t have worn pj’s or sweatpants. “And I need you to stop being afraid of what’s going to happen to you after I’m gone, and I need you to be m–” I was going to say ‘my Lee,’ but that would have made him break down in tears. I couldn’t finish the sentence. He opened his eyes and touched me. He was gentle, familiar. His touch had become so familiar.

  “Who do you need me to be?” His voice was low.

  I bent over and kissed him. He helped me undress him. “The Lee who reminds me where he keeps his condoms.”

  One of us to
ssed Lee’s pants onto the floor, and the other propped himself up on his forearms and flooded us both in an endless wave. I was utterly lost. We were one consciousness trapped between two bodies, swaying to a rhythm that made us groan at the same time, completing each other.

  I hadn’t noticed when one of us suddenly recalled that we had forgotten something, and I couldn’t tell which one of us burst into laughter when the other accidently tickled him.

  When our waves ebbed, Lee took advantage of the opportunity and started to retreat, to disentangle the ties between us. I took in his scent. “I don’t want us to part.”

  Lee held me in his arms. He didn’t reply, only kept breathing slowly. I felt how my scent affected him. He was filling with longing and a deep need to stay together.

  “Then don’t unravel us,” I answered what he didn’t say. “This feels so good right now.”

  Lee tightened his embrace. I buried my eyes in his neck. I was starting to get angry. At him. At the world. It wasn’t fair. Nothing that had happened to me was fair. Until I found him. Until we found our rhythm.

  Lee sniffled, and I was flooded with his loss. “It’s going to hurt like hell, it’s going to hurt so bad when you’re gone.” His voice cracked. He blurted it all out, all at once, as if these words had been piling up inside him, pent up for months, and now he had to let them all out. “And after you die, if we’re this close, I won’t… I won’t…”

  He was crying. I felt his body trembling. I didn’t dare look up from my hiding place. I wrapped my arms and legs around him, hugging him tightly.

  “We’re too close. I need to be less close. I need to be myself a little before…” He barely managed to finish the sentence without pausing for air. “Tell me what to do. I’ll do it. OK?”

  He was overcome with helplessness. I tried to imagine him. To separate myself from him and imagine what would happen to him. After I was gone. What would happen to me if the tables were turned. If he suddenly disappeared. Despite all the preparations. Despite Daphne’s warning.