Possibility Days

by Mary Ramsey

  “No matter what we do, this isn’t going to look self-inflicted. There’s going to be an investigation.”

  “Cross says that won’t be a problem if we’re successful.”

  There was a thump as a body dropped to the floor.

  “We just need to fuck him up until there’s nothing left to investigate. Ain’t that right, Quinto?”

  I moved closer and saw the taller of the two cons kicking Diego in the gut. He groaned, rolling from the blow. I could see from the damage to his face that he’d been brutally beaten into submission.

  “You got two choices,” the bigger con went on, “face me, or die like a little bitch.”

  Diego spat blood on the older man’s shoe. “Get it over with.”

  The younger man took out a blade, stroking it to Diego’s neck. “Let’s just leave him to bleed out.”

  “No!” My instinct took over. I grabbed the kid’s wrist, twisting it hard.

  “Ow,” the young man said with surprise, shaking his hand. “Must have been a muscle spasm.”

  “Or you just being a fucking idiot.”

  Two more men entered the chapel. “What’s the holdup?” asked a darker man with glasses. “The guards are going to find out we cut the power to the cameras.”

  I waved my hand, shutting all the doors. The men looked around, puzzled. While they were distracted, Diego managed to stand, using his elbow on the pews to pull himself upright.

  The older man pulled out a sharpened screwdriver, making to dive for Diego’s neck or even his head. That was not going to happen. I karate-chopped the man in the chest, but doubling him over only lowered the arc of his swing, lodging the weapon in Diego’s thigh. He fell to his knees as the other assailants kicked him in the gut and face. Diego dropped back to the floor and huddled into a fetal position.

  “Have faith,” I whispered, to him. I knew if I focused hard enough, I could protect him. I raised my hands to shield him, but the force that came off me sent the attackers flying backward. I chuckled slightly; to them, it must have looked like they seriously pissed off the great, almighty wooden Jesus.

  I turned to see Diego convulsing. Shit, and shit … time to finish this fight. I stood up and advanced on each man individually. It’s so much easier to be fearless when you’re already dead, and I fought like I’d never had the chance to while alive. I hit the tall asshole in the face, hard enough to send him through a chair, and another I slammed into the ceiling.

  I won’t lie—it was kind of fun.

  After the attackers were all dealt with, I moved in for a closer look at Diego. In addition to the damage to his leg, he’d suffered what looked like a stab wound to his side. I hoped to God he hadn’t punctured a lung. Of course, a ruptured spleen wouldn’t be much better. Where the hell was Cam?

  To my surprise, Diego blinked and opened his eyes. “Sean, is that you?”

  I reached for him and, as I did, I was shocked that my hands didn’t pass through his body. I thought I could only make contact if I actively concentrated on doing so, but now wasn’t the time to give the phenomenon too much thought. If I was meant to hold him, I would hold him. “I’m here,” I assured him. “I’m going to stay with you.”

  Diego gasped for air. “Is it time?”

  “No, it’s not time. You promised my daughter you’d see her again.”

  “I don’t know … if I can hold on.”

  “You can. You can hold on, because I won’t let you go.”

  Suddenly help arrived. An inmate wandered in. At the sight of the blood he was about to leave, but Cam appeared and took control of his body. I’d always assumed Cam had taken it upon himself to get help, but I wish he’d had told me that beforehand; perhaps any discussion of a plan would have been appropriate. And I was pissed about his hypocrisy; he’d told me that I couldn’t take over a host body.

  I used my powers to set off the fire alarm, and Cam forced the inmate to stay with Diego’s body by sitting down, legs crossed, holding the pew. Within moments, the chapel was swarming with guards. I looked over at Cam, who’d released the shocked inmate, and was looking quietly pleased with himself.

  “Let me guess,” I muttered, “is it time for another jump?”

  Cam shook his head. “This next journey you’ll be taking alone.”

  “What? Why?”

  “That’s for you to discover.” With that, Cam vanished.

  I followed as Diego was taken to the medical ward, and stayed by his side as he struggled to remain conscious. “Diego, listen to me. You’re going to be okay. You’ll see your family again, I promise.”

  I returned to Johnny, feeling weirdly out of breath—for a dead guy, that is. He was on the phone with Jen, and I could hear her crying.

  “Jen, calm down. Follow my breath.”

  “My father was almost killed!”

  Johnny looked straight at me. “Did you know?” he whispered.

  I nodded impatiently, pointing back at the phone. “Talk to her!”

  Jen continued to cry. “Johnny, are you there? I need you, I need someone.”

  “I’ll be there in a few days.”

  “Will you bring the RV?” Shauna asked in the background, her voice much calmer than her mother’s.

  “Sure sweetheart,” Johnny said, raising his voice for her. “You can count on me.”

  “Thank you, Uncle Johnny,” she said sweetly. “Grandpa got hurt, but the people at the jail won’t let Mommy see him. Mommy, give me the phone …”

  “Did they give a reason?” he asked Shauna once Jen’s crying had subsided at the other end of the line.

  “Grandma Claire’s trying to find out. But Mommy is so sad.”

  “Shauna, I’m going to hang up the phone so I can start packing right now. I’ll see you really soon.” He stretched and scratched the back of his head, looking like he had no idea where to start, having made this grand gesture.

  “I’ll pack your bags, and you call your supervisor,” I offered.

  “You can pack my bags?”

  “I just stopped a prison fight, so yeah, I can pack your bags.”

  Working together, we were on the road back to my childhood home in no time. It was a hellishly long drive, but Johnny just kept going with the help of a kidney-ripping supply of caffeine. Once he’d passed Sioux Falls, he called the house to make sure it was legal to park on my mother’s lawn.

  He’d only just pulled in and switched off the engine when we heard a frantic knock at the door. He opened up to the sight of Shauna with Sunflower, and spread his arms.

  Their combined weight nearly knocked him over.

  As Johnny stood up, his eyes met my wife’s. “Hey, Jen.”

  “Hey Johnny, you look good.”

  “You too,” Johnny said as Shauna grabbed him by the hand.

  “Mommy taught Grandma Claire how to cook!”

  I watched, smiling, as she dragged Johnny through the door. Shauna hadn’t seen me yet. I wasn’t sure why, but I was happy to hang back for now and just watch.

  My mother was taking a roast chicken out of the oven as Johnny walked in. Her eyes lit up. “Hey! It’s been so long, how are you?”

  “I’m good, Mrs. Foster.”

  “Call me Mom.”

  Johnny looked like he was about to cry.

  “Johnny, you’re family and you always will be.”

  “I appreciate that more than you know. Have you spoken to Sara?”

  “Only in regards to Diego’s case.” She sighed. “I don’t even know how far along she is.”

  Johnny counted on his fingers. “Five months, give or take.”

  “Let’s focus on the positive,” my mother said briskly, getting out the glasses to make everyone some cold drinks. “How have you been, Johnny?”

  “I’m good. I was making plans to move in with Leann, my nursing mentor, and her family.”

  “That’s just wonderful,” my mother replied. “You’ll be a part of a whole new family.”

  Johnny’s eyes
locked with Jen’s. “But not my family.”

  I smiled as my mind flashed back to memories of my best friends. Johnny and Jen: they were always so similar. Both were creative, passionate, people who saw the world as a place of wonder.

  I knew Shauna loved her “uncle” Johnny. And Jen, well, I had no say over whether or not she ever truly moved on. But the idea of her and Johnny, well, it made me genuinely happy.

  Later that evening, Johnny stayed up with Shauna while Jen went to bed. “Can I sleep in the RV?” Shauna asked with the most adorable yawn.

  “I should probably check in with your mother.”

  I followed Johnny to my childhood room, where my beautiful wife lay sleeping.

  Johnny woke her gently, and when she’d opened her eyes, he held her hand. “I just came here to tell you Shauna is going to be sleeping in the RV tonight. If you want, you’re welcome to join us.”

  Jen sighed, a smile escaping her lips. “That does sound fun.”

  The pair made their way to the RV to find Shauna already in her pajamas. She beamed. “Mommy’s going to sleep here too?”

  “Yes, sweetheart. We’re going to make a Shauna sandwich.”

  I couldn’t help but laugh. But there was an ever-present pain in my heart. Diego had endured a brutal attack. But we had not yet seen the full extent of the aftermath.

  “This inmate is only allowed one visitor at a time,” said the young security guard, but with no aggression, like he was just following orders. He glanced doubtfully at Shauna, probably wondering if he’d have to say no to her.

  “Who’s with him right now?” my mother asked. “Is it my daughter?”

  “That …” Jen stepped away, fists clenched. “Fucking cunt,” she muttered under her breath.

  While Mom negotiated with the guard, Johnny went put his arms around Jen. “Calm down, we have plenty of time to see him.”

  “Please relay my daughter a message—I wish to speak to her.”

  The guard did as she asked, and Sara appeared moments later. “Hey, Mom, what’s up?”

  “This is not your visitation hour,” Mother said firmly.

  “But this is an emergency,” Sara replied, matching her stiff tone. “Diego suffered a grand-mal seizure. He’s going to need surgery to relieve the pressure on his brain.”

  “That’s not your call to make,” Jen shouted.

  “Actually, it is,” Sara turned to her. “You may be his daughter, but your father signed paperwork giving me power of attorney over all matters involving his health.”

  Jen shook her head. “I’m so done with this.”

  Johnny stepped forward, looking strangely calm. “Hey, Sara.”

  “Hey …”

  “You’re looking good.”

  Sara self-consciously put her hand to her rounded belly, blushing. “Um, yeah, you too. I should probably go.” She started to move past, but Johnny took her arm.

  “Hey, wait a minute.”

  “What?”

  “Can you at least tell me why you’re doing this?”

  “Doing what?” she scoffed. “Keeping my baby?”

  “Keeping Remy’s baby.” Johnny pursed his lips. “I know you’re keeping his ashes.”

  “I kept his ashes for the same reason I’m keeping his baby.”

  “For Diego?”

  “I want to give him the second chance and the happiness he deserves.” Sara shrugged. “I’m going home. If he asks about me, tell him I’ll call later.”

  Johnny held Shauna’s hand as he headed towards the door.

  “One visitor at a time,” the guard repeated. “And no unaccompanied minors.”

  Shauna somehow knew exactly what that meant, and started to bawl.

  Johnny picked up Shauna. “Jen, you should go in.”

  Jen reached for her. “No, he wanted to see you specifically. When we told him you were back in North Dakota, he was determined to speak to you.”

  “You’re his daughter.”

  “Hey, I need to calm down anyway. You first. I’ll watch Shauna. We’re all good.”

  Johnny nodded uncertainly, but passed through the metal detectors. I followed close behind as the steel doors slammed shut.

  “Hi, Diego,” Johnny said as we approached.

  Though wearing a full-face oxygen mask, Diego was clearly having trouble breathing. He slowly opened his eyes. “Johnny,” he said with a weak gasp, “I can’t believe you agreed to come in here.”

  “I just came to support Jen and Shauna.”

  “I … I need to explain why Sara’s having … Remy’s baby.”

  “She’s keeping the baby for you. Sara loves you, she always did.”

  “And that’s doesn’t hurt you?” Diego asked.

  Johnny chuckled bitterly. “Sara’s done a lot of things to hurt me, but I get this one decision. She’s carrying this child out of love for you, and she decided that after I’d demanded a divorce.” He shrugged. “I don’t really have a right to complain.”

  “That’s where the problem lies.” Tears welled in Diego’s eyes. “Sara has no one outside of here. No one who truly understands.” His dark eyes flickered. “I’m not asking you to love her, or even forgive her. But I beg of you—please, please be by her side when the baby is born.”

  “There’s really no one else?” Johnny asked.

  “After Sean’s death … Sara was left so broken she poured herself into her work.”

  “Fine, I’ll stay,” Johnny sighed.

  Diego motioned to a table to the left side of the room. On the table was an urn which I assumed, correctly, contained Remy’s ashes. “That was the main reason Sara came here today. I want Claire to have those to plant a tree in Remy’s memory. And I have one request of you as well, Johnny.”

  Johnny flinched, and I couldn’t blame him. I figured he’d done enough to tolerate the weirdness between his ex-wife and this ill man.

  “Perhaps it’s just the pain in my heart,” Diego said, taking soft breaths, “but I feel somewhat shameful that Sara wants to give the baby my last name. I wanted to tell you myself so it didn’t come as a shock if Sara chose not to communicate this to you.”

  “Oh.” Johnny stepped back a pace, clearly having no idea what to do with this information.

  I shot Johnny a knowing glance. The fact that Sara’s baby would have Diego’s name—did that mean Sara wanted to be with him? Like … romantically?

  “Sara says she loves me,” Diego said quietly. “My legal team is fighting their hardest to get me early parole, but part of me is so afraid I’ll never have the chance to hold her child.”

  I looked at Diego’s trembling hands: the hands of a father. Jen’s father. For her, I would help him fight.

  “I’m going to head out. I’ve taken up enough of your visitation time.” Johnny signaled the guard to let him out.

  Jen was allowed to take his place and, clearly, she’d talked him into allowing her to take Shauna through.

  “I’m going to use the restroom,” Johnny said to my mother. He entered the single stall, locked the door, and took a few ragged breaths. Then he punched the wall. “Sean, if you’re still there, we need to talk.”

  “Here,” I said gently. He’d done so well to keep his cool so far.

  “What the hell am I supposed to do?”

  “Is this you saying you’re not staying in North Dakota?”

  “I want to stay for Jen and Shauna, even for your mom. But what Sara and Diego are doing …”

  “It’s twisted.”

  “Exactly. I don’t know how to feel about all this.”

  “Hey,” I said lightly, “I won’t force you to stay. When you promised to watch over my family, it was as my brother-in-law.”

  “No, I made this promise as your friend. I’m staying.”

  Twenty-Eight

  I watched over Sara for the duration of her pregnancy. For someone in her third trimester, Sara was very small. She worked in the lab as a blood-draw technician; her pregnancy limited he
r job options right down to being a glorified, over-qualified nurse. She ran bloodwork, screening babies for cystic fibrosis and other autoimmune diseases. There was a spot for her in the medical research department, but she would only be allowed to transfer once she returned from maternity leave.

  On Valentine’s Day, two months before her due date, her water broke. She’d frozen, eyes wide, so I tossed a petri dish off the edge of the shelf to bring her colleague over.

  “Oh! Wow …” said Lena, a young Asian nurse.

  Sara remained still, already in shock. “I-I think my water broke.”

  “Yeah, I can see that. I’ll get a wheelchair, and take you down to Maternity. Is there anyone you need me to call?”

  It was too soon. Sara’s aura wasn’t right. I touched her side. She had a horrible pain in her abdomen, but no contractions. Was she about to miscarry again?

  “Dr. Foster?”

  “No, there’s no one to call.”

  I teleported to Johnny, who was back at home in the RV, developing new recipes using the local foods of North Dakota. It took me all of thirty seconds to scare the ever-loving crap out of him and have him run into the house to let Jen he was on his way to the hospital. That done, I returned to my sister’s side.

  It took a while to find her as Lena had shifted routes from Maternity to the ER. I got to Sara’s room in time to find her lying flat, having an ultrasound. She was in a lot of pain, but still not experiencing contractions. It was bad: Sara’s uterus had ruptured. The baby was dying inside her. She would need to be rushed into surgery.

  I grabbed her hand just as the anesthetist put her under, and saw the portal opening. I was shit-scared she’d be sent somewhere permanent but was relieved to see the playpark emerge at the bottom of the vortex. The playpark was okay. A middle-ground. The waiting room, as Izzy described it. I headed in there first.

  The sun was high in the sky and there were happy children everywhere. But not just little kids. There were several groups of teenagers talking or playing cards. Some were even drinking and smoking, but since this was the afterlife, that wouldn’t really matter. I sat in the sandbox with a special friend while Sara wandered around, looking confused.