by Jen Nadol
He kept talking, but I noticed the people at the café, couple by couple, had paused to look our way. Not at us, exactly, but up. I turned to see what they were looking at.
“Lucas,” was all I said.
“What?”
But I didn’t answer, couldn’t, because I knew this was it. He followed my gaze to the top of the six-story brown building in front of us. I could just see her as she stood at the edge of the roof. Instinctively, I stepped back, pulling Lucas with me.
Her fall was a horrible, silent drop.
The first thing Lucas did was throw up. Around us, people were screaming. There was pandemonium just like Mr. McKenzie’s accident, people running out of the restaurant, to the scene or away, some just standing there stunned. I had turned my head just before she hit, knowing already how a sight like that can linger in your memory for … well, forever. The sound was bad enough, repeating in my brain over and over as I dragged Lucas, ashen and shaking, around the corner, out of sight.
Slowly I led him to a stoop about halfway down the block. He was still heaving as we sat. “The police are coming,” he said as the wail of sirens came closer.
“Probably. Or it might be an ambulance.”
“She couldn’t have survived, could she?”
I shook my head.
“The police will want to talk to us,” he said shakily. “We’re witnesses.”
“There were plenty of witnesses there, Lucas. We didn’t see anything more than they did. Nothing we can talk about, at least.” I felt eerily calm. Was I becoming numb to death? But then I remembered the sound, that awful crunching thud. I wasn’t shaken up the way Lucas was, but I’d known what was coming and maybe having him with me—someone else who’d seen, who’d understand—was making it easier or more bearable, though it really wasn’t either. I felt helpless and horribly, horribly sad. It was impossible to imagine things being bad enough to do what she had just done.
Lucas looked at me sideways, from the corners of his eyes, as if afraid to face me full-on. “How did you know?” he whispered.
“I told you. She had the mark.”
He nodded, looking away, down the busy street, where cars streamed by, passengers giggling, talking, unaware that someone had just taken her own life steps away.
“Let’s get out of here,” I suggested.
I hailed a cab. “Central Park,” I told the driver. I’d never been there, but I hoped it was as tranquil as the green spaces in Bering.
We were silent on the ride past more buildings, streets, stores, people. I closed my eyes, not wanting to see another. The driver dropped us at a corner with horse-drawn carriages. “Can’t go in,” he said shortly. “Roads are closed on the weekend.”
I paid him and we entered the park, walking a curved lane until we came to a field. We sat somewhere in the middle, the sun full on us for the first time that day. Neither of us spoke. I studied the buildings rising like giants above the trees beyond.
“You really can … see something …” Lucas finally said.
“Yes, I can.”
“I didn’t believe you.”
“I know.”
“I mean …” He shook his head. “I can’t believe what we just saw. I don’t think I’ll ever get that out of my mind. The way she fell …”
He wouldn’t, but I didn’t want to tell him that.
“You’ve seen that … that kind of thing before?” he asked.
“Not exactly, but something like it. I saw a man hit by a car.”
He winced. “That must have been awful.”
“It was.”
“How can you …”
“It’s not always like that, Lucas. Most of the time, I don’t actually see them die. I just see the mark.”
“What is it? What does it look like?”
I described it the best I could, none of my images exactly right.
“How long has this been happening?”
“Forever.” I told him about the schoolkids, random people I’d seen. “I didn’t really figure it out until my grandmother was in the hospital and I saw it on her roommate. When I went back to visit the next day, the roommate was gone. Passed away. I started thinking about it, putting the pieces together. The next time I saw it, I did what we just did. Followed a man until … it ended. That was the car accident.”
Lucas was calmer, the color back in his cheeks and, with each question, he sounded steadier. In front of us, a trio of guys threw a football. Their shirts were off and, unlike the girl we’d followed, they seemed the picture of health, toned and laughing. I watched them for a while, until Lucas said softly, “You really saw it on me?”
I glanced over and, for the first time today, saw him actually looking at me. Not annoyed, not dismissive, a penetrating stare. “I did.”
“And then it went away?”
“It did.”
“Do you think I was meant to die that day?”
“I think something would have happened if you had gone out. Something bad. That’s what the mark means.”
“You saved my life, didn’t you?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know, Lucas. That’s never happened before.”
We watched the football players a little longer. They reminded me of the picture in Lucas’s apartment of him with his high school friends. Maybe he thought so too.
“I don’t want to stay here anymore,” he said.
I nodded. “You want to go back to the hotel?”
“No. I don’t want to stay in this city. I want to go home.”
“Our flight back isn’t until tomorrow.”
He shook his head. “Let’s change it.” He stood. “Let’s pack and go to the airport.”
“Don’t you think we should call first? See if there’s anything available? Or what it’ll cost?”
“I don’t care. We can fly standby. Even if we have to sleep in the airport, it’ll be better than staying here.”
I didn’t argue with him, didn’t blame him for wanting to get away from what he’d seen.
chapter 22
We made it back to Bering late that night, well past midnight. Lucas dropped me at the apartment. I was disappointed. It felt like a replay of our last drive back from Wichita.
“You understand, Cassandra,” he said. “It’s been a very long day. I just need … I don’t know … some time.”
I nodded, but I didn’t understand. I had proved I wasn’t crazy, hadn’t I? “I know this is hard to absorb, Lucas,” I said. “Maybe I can help. I’ve had some experience with this—”
He cut me off with a curt shake of his head. “Thanks, but I think I need to just … work through this myself, you know?”
“Sure.”
“I’ll call you.”
“You’re back early,” Drea said. “What happened?”
“Becca got sick,” I told her.
I waited. A day passed. Then two, then three. I slept, I worked, I read three books. I watched the phone. I’d been sure I’d catch him in class Monday, but he came late and left early, avoiding my eyes the whole time.
“You and your boyfriend break up?” Doug asked.
“No, why?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t seen him around much.”
I shrugged. “He’s busy with classes, papers, you know.”
“Uh-huh.”
Finally, on Wednesday, he called. “Let’s have lunch,” he said. “I want to talk to you.”
He was already at Café Lennox when I arrived. He waved me over but didn’t stand, didn’t offer a hug or kiss. We’re on campus, I told myself. He has to be careful here.
He didn’t waste time on preliminaries. “I’ve been thinking,” he said after I returned to the table with my food, “about your gift.”
I hadn’t thought of it like that, couldn’t quite agree, but I didn’t argue.
“Tell me more about it.”
“What do you want to know?”
“You said you’ve seen it forever.”
�
�Right.”
“And you figured out what it meant when? Six months ago?”
“About that. A little less.”
“But you kind of already knew, right? When you followed the man who got hit by a car.”
“Kind of. Not really.”
Lucas nodded. His questions had a rhythm, like they did in class when he was leading more than exploring, taking me to a destination he had already chosen. “How often have you seen it since?”
“I don’t know. A few times. More here than I did in Ashville.”
“Have you ever told anyone? Tried to warn them?”
“Only you.”
He nodded again, leaning back and watching me closely. “Didn’t it ever occur to you to try to stop it, Cassandra? To help them?”
We had arrived and it wasn’t where I wanted to be. Not at all. I had proved I wasn’t crazy. Things were supposed to go back to normal, the way they’d been—us reading together on his couch, taking walks, sharing dinner. “No, not really,” I answered. “I … I mean, how could I think I could stop it?”
“You thought you could with me.”
“I didn’t really, Lucas. I just … I couldn’t not say something. I didn’t really think I could change anything.”
“You must have. Or you wouldn’t have told me to stay home. What did you think you were doing if you weren’t trying to change things?”
“Why are you attacking me?”
“I’m not attacking, Cassie. I’m just trying to understand how you could see this mark on all those people—mothers, fathers, kids, for crissake—and not try to do something about it. Why wouldn’t you?”
“Would you?”
“Of course. I’d feel it was my duty.”
“Your duty?!”
“Yes. Just like we talked about in class, at dinner. Your ‘hypothetical,’ except that it isn’t about letting someone decide how to use their remaining time; it’s about giving them more time. Saving lives. Jesus, Cassie, how could you not try to help?”
“Look,” I said, feeling my face start to burn, “the truth is I had already tried and it didn’t work. The day Nan died. I saw it on her, the doctors ran all kinds of tests. But how could they know? It could have been anything. If I couldn’t stop it for her, with so many people trying, how could I stop it for anyone else?”
Lucas stared at me, frowning. “That’s it, Cassandra? One time? You tried once and gave up?”
“I didn’t give up,” I said defensively. “Besides, even if I’d thought I could change things, who says I’m supposed to? What if it’s not the right thing to do?”
“Right for them or for you?”
“Are you calling me selfish?” My tone told him I was outraged, but really I was as angry and frustrated with myself as I was with Lucas. His interrogation was bringing up all the things I’d been struggling with these many months. Things I’d wondered about, but did nothing, not nearly enough, I thought now, to explore.
“I’m just wondering, Cassandra. I don’t understand your objection. You have the power to save lives.” He asked again, “Why wouldn’t you?”
The way Lucas said it, it seemed so simple. Why wouldn’t I?
It was then that it struck me—I had let that girl die. I’d known I might change things, had done so for Lucas, but had chosen to stay silent, following her down those dirty New York sidewalks to her fated destination. Watching as she jumped. I felt monstrous. Is this who I am?
Still, something held me back from wanting to dive headlong into rescuing everyone marked by the light. What about what was meant to be? Fate? In my gut, I knew there was more. Had to be, or I was just a coward. Or worse. “What if I’m not supposed to tell?”
“What do you mean?”
“What if … this mark … is really meant just for me to see?”
“Why would it be? Meant for you by whom?”
“I don’t know. God?”
“Ridiculous,” Lucas said. “Do you think God would give you an ability you weren’t meant to use? Is a gifted pianist meant not to play? An artist not to paint? It doesn’t make sense, Cassandra.”
“So I’m to save these people? God put me here, with this ability, to hold off death for the people of Bering, Kansas? Does that make sense, Lucas?”
He shrugged.
“And what, might I ask, would you say? Hi, I’m Lucas and today’s your day to die?”
“I’m not in your shoes, Cassie, so I’m sure it’s easy for me to say,” Lucas said quietly, “but I’d like to think I’d figure something out.”
I stared at my food angrily. How dare he.
“Listen.” Lucas leaned in, speaking softly. “I know it’s hard, but don’t you think you should at least consider it?”
“What could I have done for that girl, Lucas? She already knew it was her day to die.”
He nodded. “I thought about that. But maybe if you had talked to her, you’d have realized the problem, could have told someone else.”
I snorted. “Right. In a five-minute conversation I could have deduced that she was suicidal.”
“Well, don’t forget, you had a head start. You knew she was going to die. Surely you considered that possibility?”
I remembered the train rushing into the station, thinking she might jump. I said nothing.
“Maybe nothing would have come of it,” Lucas acknowledged. “Maybe you wouldn’t have figured it out. But maybe you would.”
“And if I had, then what? If I knew her, maybe I could have helped, reminded her that people cared or that things’ll get better, but honestly, Lucas, why would she believe a total stranger? Why would she even stop to listen?”
He shrugged. “Maybe she wouldn’t have, but you don’t know. Maybe just talking to her about death would have scared her enough to make her reconsider, Cassie.” He continued, “What you do know is that it couldn’t be any worse, right? I mean, she was already going to die. Anything would be worth trying, wouldn’t it?”
It was hard to disagree, but I wasn’t ready to agree either.
“Think about what you’re saying, Lucas,” I countered. “What would that mean for me? Following people around, trying to convince them they’re about to die? They’d never believe me. Think about how you reacted. You thought I was nuts, and you know me.”
“But I listened,” he said, “and I’m still here.”
I was silent.
“It won’t be easy, Cassandra. You’re right about that. But you’re strong. It’s one of the things I admired about you, what drew me to you. I would never have pegged you as one to take the easy way out. Especially about something as important as this. Don’t you see?” he said earnestly. “This is it. Your purpose. Maybe mine too. Helping you use this extraordinary gift.”
I knew then that this was more than a conversation. It was an ultimatum. And maybe he was right. Maybe it was as simple as helping people and I was taking the coward’s way out. “All right, Lucas,” I mumbled, struggling to say the words. “I’ll try.”
He beamed. “You’re making the right decision, Cassandra. And I will support you a hundred percent. I want you to tell me all about it: who you see, what you say to them, how they react …” He rambled on, about how incredible this was, about destiny and meaning. I stopped listening, already dreading the days ahead, actually doing what I’d just agreed to.
Finally Lucas stood, collecting our trays, smiling at me. “We’ll do it together, Cassandra. Together we’ll find a way to turn this into the best possible good.”
I stayed with him that night. I should have been thrilled, but there was something different in the way he looked at me. I used to catch him watching as I read or dressed or cooked, but his expression now was as if he were watching a rare but dangerous animal: intrigued, drawn, repelled, and above all, cautious. He smiled when I caught him looking, but it was without warmth. Calculating.
“Remember,” he said the next day as we were leaving the apartment, “if you see one, you can call me. I’ll co
me help you or if I’m too far, we can talk through what you should say. I’ll keep my cell on vibrate during meetings. I’ll see you in class.”
I hadn’t studied for that day’s lesson, only skimmed the reading. It was the first time I’d slacked, but with all that had happened, I just couldn’t do it.
After class, I barely had time to collect my books before he was at my side. “Did you see anything?” he whispered urgently.
I shook my head.
“I’ve got the afternoon free,” he said. “Let’s go look. We can go to the mall or in town to the square …”
“I can’t, Lucas,” I lied. “I promised Doug I’d help him with some stuff at the shop.”
“I thought you were off today.”
I shrugged. “We got some extra orders; he asked if I could help with restocking, inventory, you know.”
“What time will you be finished?”
I had to squeeze past him to get through the door. “Not sure,” I said. “I’ll call you.”
chapter 23
He wanted to be with me all the time. I was less a girlfriend than a project. Every conversation started with: “Did you see one yet?” He was disappointed when I said no, but he would have been equally disappointed if I’d said yes and failed to call him before the confrontation.
At Lucas’s behest, I’d been spending my free time haunting the most populated places of Bering: the town square, the shopping centers, even the strip of bars near campus at night. Lucas came with me for those excursions. In all our times out, I’d seen nothing, but I developed a persistent stomachache, my gut churning unpleasantly every morning at the thought of another day searching.
Finally I decided to give myself a day off. It was a Tuesday, Lucas’s busiest day on campus, so I knew he’d be less likely to hound me and I had the early shift at Cuppa, with the rest of the day free. It was mid-August, still hot, but breezy, and I was determined to spend it away from the places I’d been visiting in search of the mark. I planned to read by my pond in the park, not for class, but purely for pleasure, something that felt in very short supply lately.
