‘I’ll miss you every day for the rest of my life,’ Michael whispers.
‘Don’t,’ I whisper. ‘Don’t miss me.’
‘Will you tell me one thing about the future?’ he asks me. ‘The time you come from, is it within my lifetime?’
I’m uncertain what to say; I hesitate, but he sees it in my face.
‘It is, isn’t it? It’s in my lifetime?’ He lowers his gaze for a moment. ‘Well, then, I’ll just wait until I catch up to you, Luna. I’ll just wait. And then it can be me who’s saying I’m too old for you, how about that? I’ll wait for you.’
‘Don’t wait for me.’ I shake my head, not wanting to tell him that I know he doesn’t anyway, that there will be no me to wait for. ‘Live your life. Know me now, today in this moment, but please, please, whatever you do, don’t wait for me. I might never come.’
‘But you don’t understand.’ Michael takes my hands. ‘I don’t have a choice but to wait for the woman I love. I’ll still love you in a thousand years. Whatever happens next, I will always wait for you, because I have to. Whether you come or not.’
The hours drain away through my fingers, too quickly and too slowly, all at once. The heat builds in the air, charging the afternoon with an intense atmosphere. I sit up, brushing my hair from my shoulders. Michael sits up behind me and kisses my neck.
‘What would happen if you never went back, if you just lived here forever,’ he says.
‘I don’t think I can,’ I say. ‘I think my time would pull me back eventually. I think if I tried to resist it might just rip me in two.’
‘Then just stay here a little longer,’ he says. ‘Stay with me. Another five minutes, what harm can it do?’
‘Maybe all the harm in the world,’ I tell him.
‘So this is it?’ He sits up, pulling on a T-shirt as I dress slowly. ‘This time you’re going for good? Shall I walk you there? We don’t have to say goodbye now, we can say it on the corner or … someplace else, but not now. I don’t want it to ever be now.’
Standing up, I turn around and smile at him.
‘I don’t want it to be now, either. Walk me to the corner.’
‘It’s going to storm tonight,’ he says, as we walk to the end of his street. ‘You can feel the electricity in the air. Maybe that’s a good thing, some rain will wash away all the heat and dirt for one night.’
‘Maybe,’ I say, as we reach the very end of the road. A rumble of thunder rolls across the skyline. ‘Well, this is where we say goodbye.’
‘Let me walk you all the way. Tell me what you’re going to do? Maybe I can do something to help. Let me come with you, please Luna.’
‘I can’t,’ I say. ‘And you can’t walk me any further. From this point on I have to go alone.’
‘Luna, I …’
‘You know what, let’s not say goodbye,’ I interrupt him. ‘Let’s not say anything else.’
I stand on my tiptoes and kiss him on the cheek. As I walk into the darkness, I don’t look back. Because if I did, all the courage, all the determination I have, would ebb away in an instant, consumed by the sharp longing to spend whatever time I have left in this world next to him.
CHAPTER FIFTY
★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★
I am a little early, but Riss’s building is almost entirely in darkness. There is no doorbell or buzzer on the shop door, so I go round the side. The green-painted door is locked away behind a rusty-looking, wrought-iron ornate grill, so I can’t get to the buzzer on the other side. Even knocking on the door is something of a struggle, but I do it, trying to make my knocks as loud as I can. Marissa must have known her family would be out, or perhaps she just plans to exit through her bedroom window again, but why would the building be locked up so tightly?
Everything seems unnaturally quiet as I cross the street and look up at her window, as if I am the last person left alive in this corner of the world, and everyone else who ever lived here, or ever will, has vanished into nothing.
The only light I can see in the building is coming from Riss’s room, a tug of a breeze pulls the end of her curtains out of the window – it’s open.
The only way I can find to get in is via the old and rusting fire escape. Stretching, reaching, I try to grab the metal ladder and pull it down, but it remains a good foot above my grasp.
‘Riss!’ I call up, the sound of my voice echoes in the charged air.
‘Riss!’ No answer comes, not from Riss’s window, or anywhere.
She said for me to be here at 9.30. I look at my watch; in the next five minutes the blackout strikes, and this is going to get a whole lot more difficult. And then a terrible thought strikes me.
What if he’s up there with her already, what if she’s trapped with him now?
I drag a garbage can overflowing with trash beneath the ladder, forcing the stinking rubbish as far into the can as I’m able, so that the dome lid sits almost level. Bracing my weight against the wall, I scramble onto the lid; it slips and shifts under my feet and I will myself not to fall, locking my knees, tensing my thighs. I don’t have time to fall, to fail.
Stretching up as tall as I can, I just about reach the ladder, the lid of the unstable trash can tilting and falling over, leaving me hanging off of it. I waggle my legs until it extends enough for me to be able to put my feet on the ground. Finally, I am able to climb up, the muscles in my arms burning, my lungs bursting as I hit the first balcony level. I’m gasping, unable to take in enough oxygen, but I can’t pause, not even for a second.
I scramble up the remaining two flights to Riss’s room, ignoring the steadily increasing failure of my body; metal scrapes and bruises me, but I will not stop.
The lights go out across New York City just as I reach her open window, just as I knew they would.
It is 9.34 p.m., 13 July, and the great blackout of 1977 begins. There’s no time to stop to look, but behind me a whole city is plunged into pitch darkness. I fall into the room, my shoulder hitting the corner of something hard, and sharp. The wardrobe.
‘Riss,’ I whisper, gripping the place where a bruise is forming. ‘Riss?’
There is nothing, not a breath in the darkness, only the ticking of a clock on the hallway. My hands outstretched, I stumble against her bed, and feel its surface smooth and unruffled under my palms. Riss is not here, the attack happens here, just after the lights go out, but she isn’t here so … That should be a good thing, that should mean that she changed her mind, decided against meeting Delaney at all, that she is safe somewhere. Except I’m still here, and I still have this feeling of cold, hard fear in my heart.
She changed her plans because of me.
Riss doesn’t think she needs a chaperone; she never has and why would she, with him? She’s known him all her life. She trusts him completely. She’s rearranged where she was going to meet him, because of me.
It’s happening all over again – just some other location – because of me.
Where would she meet him, where?
Lightning flares, illuminating the room for a moment, followed by a deep roll of thunder, and I take my opportunity to find my way back to the window. There is nothing but darkness above and below.
It’s strange to know that out there this vast city still exists, hidden in the darkness. Sirens wail in the distance, people start to wander out onto the street, standing in small shadowy groups, lit by the occasional torch or cigarette lighter, shouting to each other, perhaps to try and find comfort in the dense dark. Riss said her whole family, much of the neighbourhood, were going to the church for a fundraising social. If that where Delaney is, then that has to be where she is, she has to be meeting him there, or somewhere nearby. In any case, it’s the only idea I have, and however this is all about to play out, one way or another I am running out of time.
Climbing back out of the window I make my descent as quickly as I can, down the almost-invisible fire escape. The sky r
umbles and groans above me, the first few drops of rain sounding against the black metal, and I start to slip and slide as the rain becomes slick. As I near the bottom, my feet shoot out from under me, catching the sharp edge of the stair, a sharp rip of pain travels up my calf. I feel what is probably a trickle of blood running into my shoes as I slam onto the ground.
‘Hey, who are you?’ Some guy, probably a neighbour, sees me jumping out of his friend’s home. ‘What are you doing?’
‘I’m sorry, I’ve got to go,’ I call out, ducking out of his grasp and running as fast as I can down the middle of the street.
‘Hey, you won’t get away with this, you know!’ he calls after me. ‘We don’t do things like that in Bay Ridge.’
Keeping my head down I run, surprised by how weightless I feel, how light and fast. The pain and weakness I felt climbing into Riss’s room has evaporated, and now I’m fuelled by anger, fury so powerful it pumps blood to every corner of me.
The pavement offers no resistance to my footsteps; I am fast and I am true, flying to her, little more than a ghost now, and I wonder, just briefly, if I could run through the walls and buildings that stand in my way.
Every now and then the sky is bright with fierce flashes of electricity, slashing into the black, showing the empty streets in stark black and white. It’s a ghost town, a city that seems to have suddenly arrived on the other side of the moon.
CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE
★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★
The church comes at me, out of nowhere, rising up towards the next lightning strike, fierce and angry, defiant. I can almost see its fury and anger, like sparks striking against the sky. This place that was meant for faith has been misused, and I know that Riss is in there. I know I’m in the right place. I know that this is it.
Struggling, I force open the heavy oak door, slipping in through the narrowest of gaps.
It’s silent inside and dark, with just the votive candles flickering near the altar, and for a moment I am lost, I am thrown. Where is she?
Of course, she’s not here. There must be a room somewhere, a place where the community meets up for events. Walking as fast as I can, I find the connecting door that will take me into the adjoining building, but it’s locked. I rattle the handle, pounding on the door, but there is nothing, not a single sound on the other side, not a whisper.
Frantically, I run outside and around the side of the building. I can see a long window with flashes of light inside, maybe torches, more candles. Remembering the door the young girl stumbled out of that first day I came here, I search blindly along the wall, until I find it, my finger closing around the handle.
It opens when I try it.
The hall is full of people. A woman is sitting at a piano in the corner, and someone is passing around candles.
I scan the faces, looking for Riss, but I can’t see her. I can’t see Delaney either.
‘Hi, is Marissa Lupo here?’ I ask one person, moving on to the next before they can answer, knowing they will not have seen her. And then I see Stephanie, her face lit up as she holds her candle against the flame of another, in the process of passing light around the room.
‘Stephanie,’ I hiss. ‘Where’s Riss?’
‘Here somewhere, I guess,’ she says. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘I need to find her, it’s important.’
‘Who?’ Michelle appears at our side.
‘Riss. Have you seen her?’
‘Oh yeah, she went to talk to Father Delaney, in the church.’
The door was locked.
Pushing my way through the crowds, I run back into the street, back into the dark silent church and shout his name.
‘Delaney!’
‘You again?’ He appears like a shadow in the dark and I run into him, into his chest, so that he staggers backwards.
‘Where is she? Where is she?’ I shove him hard enough to make him stumble to the floor, and I fall onto him, driving my knees into his chest. The sky sets on fire and I see fear and surprise in his eyes.
‘Where is she, what have you done?’ I take the knife from my pocket, and there is no hesitation not a moment of regret as I hold it to his throat. This man means nothing to me. ‘Tell me!’
‘Please, I know it’s wrong, I’m a priest, but I love her …’ he stutters, and I press hard.
‘Love her, what do you know about love? Where’s Riss?’
‘Riss?’ His eyes widen, white glowing in the candlelight. ‘You’re talking about Riss?’
‘Don’t lie to me.’ I jab the blade harder against his throat. ‘Where’s Riss, where is she? She went to talk to you.’
‘Y … yes, but I didn’t find her. I was going to meet her in the vestry, but she isn’t there. P … please … let me go.’
‘Where is she?’ I ask him again.
‘Last time I saw her, she was with that lawyer. Watkins Gillespie. He told her he could help out with something, that’s all I know, I swear it. I’m not a bad man, just a weak one, please.’
And then I know; the reason I feel nothing for Delaney is because he is nothing.
Darkness pulls me down, down into the ground, and I see it all. A protected man, a trusted man, a man who has power and position. A lawyer who works for the mob.
And I was the one who pointed her out to him. I walked right into his office and asked him to look after her.
Watkins Gillespie is my father.
‘Where did they go?’ I get up, still wired with adrenalin.
‘I don’t know.’
There are so many places in the dark where they could go. Where would they be?
Delaney scrambles away from me against the wall.
The church; I feel her, I feel him. They are somewhere in the church.
The inside of the building yawns as I enter, gaping with secrets and shadows.
There is no sound, nothing. Delaney had said he was going to be in the vestry; perhaps they might be there. As soon as I begin to move down the aisle, I hear it. The slightest whimper, the scrape of wood against stone.
Standing perfectly still in the darkness, I wait for one more sound that will tell me where she is. I bleed into the darkness, become part of it, occupying every space it does, pressing into every corner and narrow hiding place.
A breath, fast and outward. A stifled cry. Turning round, I look up.
The choir’s gallery.
Guesswork is all I have as I make it to a door to the left of the foyer and tug on it. It’s locked. There is an identical door opposite and I race to that one. This one is open.
It’s when I’m at the bottom of the stairs that I freeze, and what’s left of the woman I used to be clamours and screams at me. What am I going to do at the top of these stairs? Every tiny particle I am screams at me to leave, to run away, but I can’t.
I cannot.
This is the moment, the one moment in my life where I must be brave, where I must have courage. This is the moment, soon to be lost and forgotten forever, that will define me. This is the moment when my life will mean something. Only now, and then never again.
The void at the top of the stairs is nothing but darkness, and yet I know they are in here. Even though breaths are held tight, I can sense them, two heartbeats in the darkness. Looking around, every dark shape merges into another. Shroud-like sheets have been thrown over stacks of chairs or something. I walk a little further into what I sense is space.
‘Riss?’ My voice sounds unnaturally loud in the darkness. ‘Are you OK?’
‘Luna!’ Her shriek pierces the dark. ‘Run!’
I sense her breaking away, hurtling towards me in the dark, but something brings her down hard and she hits the floor, the sound of her breath being forced out of her.
Lightning strikes just as a hand, his hand, reaches out of the dark, reaching around her ankle and pulling her back into the shadows.
‘You bitch,’ Gillespie says, throwi
ng Riss somewhere behind him. ‘You came here to ruin my life, didn’t you? You don’t know who you’re dealing with. You don’t know what hell I will bring down on you and everyone you love.’
And I remember how I trusted him, how he was kind to me, how I wept on his shoulder. But I love Henry, my true father, and this man is nothing to me, nothing good, or kind.
‘Let her go!’ Screaming, I run at him, at where I think he is, with no idea what I am going to do in the seconds that follow, only that this is all I can do.
My trajectory stops when he grabs my hair and drags me to him. Pain burns through my scalp and down my neck, but there is a burning agony greater than that, of just being near him, knowing what he is. Knowing that half of the blood that is burning away to nothing in my veins right now comes from him. I kick him as hard as I can, and Riss arrives from behind leaping onto his back, pulling him away from me.
He releases his grip on me and I stumble back against the low balcony, feeling the weight of my body almost pendulum over the rail onto the stone floor below. I redress the balance just in time as I see him, the shadow of him, rise up again. Riss, wherever she is in the darkness, does not move or make a sound.
Gripping the rail, I force myself onto my feet with an almighty roar, so loud I can’t believe it comes from me.
Launching myself at him, I clasp my hands around his face, refusing to relinquish my grip, even when his fingers encircle my wrists. Pain burns as he crushes my bones. But still, I fight, determined. He will look at me, my father; he will look into my blue eyes, so like his own.
‘Is there no part of you left that cares?’ I ask him. ‘Is there no part of you left that wishes you weren’t this man? You want to live the rest of life hating, and hurting and tearing people apart?’
All at once he is still, his eyes riveted to mine.
‘You don’t understand,’ he says. ‘When you’ve done the things I’ve done, seen the things I’ve seen, the time comes when you don’t care anymore.’
He lets go of my wrists and I stumble backwards. It’s now I think; now that I will grab him and pull him over the balcony. Father and daughter, we go together. I pray that it won’t hurt.
The Summer of Impossible Things Page 29
