My uncle nudged me. "You okay?"
I hadn't said anything since we'd ordered our food. I looked at him, truthful. "I don't know."
"Am I allowed to ask?" he said.
"You mean my mom didn't already fill you in?"
"A little."
"I wasn't running away," I said. For some reason I knew that's what he was thinking. That maybe it ran in the family.
“I’d understand if you were. A lot’s happened in the last few months. Your mom told me about Germany.”
“They said I could take some time before we have to leave.”
“And are you?”
I looked at my uncle, trying to look like a rational adult instead of a mess. As if then they’d grant me permission, as if I needed their permission at all. “I need to get back,” I said.
My uncle let out a long breath, hands clasped. “To the hospital in Albuquerque?”
“Tonight.”
“Whoa, hold on there, Bryn.”
I tried to sit still, to bite my tongue. Leaving like I had had scared them, I knew it. I knew lashing out, letting them see any part of what I was feeling, would scare them too.
“As soon as I can,” I said, keeping my eyes down. “I’ll be leaving for Germany soon and I just want to make the most of the time I have left.”
He nodded once, slow. “If you want to go back, I’ll get you a plane ticket. No more dragging Dani and Felix all over the country. They’re takin’ the flack because no one suspects Bryn of being some evil mastermind.” He lifted an eyebrow. “I know better.”
I smiled, bit it back.
“You sure you’ll be okay?” he asked.
I nodded. “I’m fine. I’ll be fine. I just need to do this.”
5
Roman
I opened my eyes and the first thing my dad said was Bryn's name.
“She went home.”
He leaned over me, making sure I’d understood as if he didn’t want to leave me in that painful wondering. Like he knew it would make me sad. He looked sad too but I couldn't tell if it was because he thought I was or because he already missed her. But it was like he knew that she was important and like he knew what I was going to do to her.
“She’ll be back as soon as she can.” His voice hastened over the word soon, afraid of turning it into a promise.
I'd tried to force out words, any word to let him know that I was okay but it was like my brain and my mouth were connected by some faulty circuit, one that turned language into sounds that only meant one of two things: no or yes, sometimes both. Even my name had come out in a stilted sob, desperate and indignant. But that was exactly how I felt, especially when I tried to move.
Dr. King came in, a small bald man with a grey beard. He looked over my chart, making small talk with my dad and stealing glances at me in the corner of his eye. I just stared at the television.
Doctors always made me nervous. Something about the way their hands were always cold and they always smelled like rubbing alcohol.
He said my name, shining a light into my eyes. I winced and he patted my arm. “There, real quick.”
He moved around the bed, checking on my IV and my bandages before gripping my arms and legs in handfuls.
“He’s putting on some weight,” he said.
“Yeah, my kid looks good.”
And then without missing a beat Dr. King said, “Let’s step into the hall.”
I couldn’t make out the words. Beneath the machines beeping next to me they were only sighs, thin and stilted, and I couldn’t always tell who they were coming from. Dr. King cleared his throat, mumbled something, cleared his throat again. It was quiet for a long time and then my dad stepped back into the room, all of the blood gone from his face.
And I knew exactly what Dr. King had said. I stared down at my legs, still limp and laying in the same position as when I’d first woken up. I could wriggle my fingers, I could lift my hands a few inches off the bed, I could turn my neck and shrug my shoulders and open my mouth but my legs…I couldn’t move my fucking legs. When I saw my dad’s face I knew I never would.
He sat by my bed, rubbing a hand over his eyes, kneading the skin until it wasn’t so grey anymore.
"Thirsty?" He grabbed a cup of water, leading the straw to my mouth.
I reached for it, taking a sip.
“Yeah, we can do this,” he said.
I didn’t know if he was talking about the water or something else. The back of my throat was still raw from all of those months with the breathing tube and I choked, water dribbling down my chin. My dad pulled the cup away, watching my face. But I was still reaching, still so thirsty. I narrowed my eyes, trying to make him see, to make him hear me. But he didn't. He moved to set the cup down and I bit down hard, humming that first letter. He looked at me and then I pushed.
"More.”
He led the straw to my lips, hands shaking. "More?"
I took long deep gulps, trying to hold onto the straw against his shuddering. I heard the dry warble of the cup and then he was crying. And even though I wasn't thirsty anymore, I didn't want him to stop holding that cup, to stop smiling, to stop making me feel like some kind of miracle.
"More."
My dad ran to the sink, filling the cup. I drank it down, pausing to take a breath.
"More."
I kept drinking, my dad still shaking. And laughing. He was laughing. I emptied the cup again and I could see him waiting but my stomach felt like it was going to explode. He took my hand like he understood and it made my throat ache. My eyes grew heavy, the morphine pump doling out its next scheduled dose but I didn't want to fall asleep to those shadows on his face.
I squeezed his fingers as hard as I could and then I said, "Dad."
6
Bryn
I used to think that my mom wasn’t good at keeping secrets but that was before I learned about the one she’d been keeping from me about her and my uncle’s relationship. It turned out lying to Dr. Sabine about the state of my physical and mental health came just as easily to her.
During the entire meeting, my mom and I sat across from Dr. Sabine, both of us just nodding through her routine questions. Everything was fine. Perfectly fine. No recent episodes. No hallucinations that may or may not end up being fatal according to the medical history of Eve Banz. No boy in my head and certainly no running away to see said boy in the middle of the night while my mom lay sleeping in her bed with no knowledge to the contrary.
I thought after six years of these monthly check-ins, during which my mom’s neurosis was on full display and she always had a million questions about cleaning products and food allergies and whether or not the mild bit of eczema on my arms was some kind of omen, that Dr. Sabine might be a little unnerved by the silence or at least curious. But maybe she was just relieved that for once neither of us was sharing terrible news.
“Well, I know Dr. Banz looks forward to meeting you in Cologne,” she said.
When she mentioned Dr. Banz I thought of the other alternative, that Dr. Sabine wasn’t pressing us for more specific answers because soon she would no longer be my primary physician. Dr. Banz would be my KLS specialist and every strange symptom and every irrational fear would be his responsibility. He and his assistant, Vogle, had already returned to Germany and the office looked bigger without them all crowding behind Dr. Sabine’s desk.
The first time I’d met the two of them when I was lying in that hospital bed, the sedative just starting to take effect, something about them had made me the slightest bit anxious. But now that they’d gone it was the distance that made me anxious. There was too much space between me and the only other people on earth who might know how to make me better and as much as I wanted to stay with Roman there was also a part of me that was afraid of all of the things that could go wrong in the meantime.
“Are we ready to start making arrangements?” Dr. Sabine asked.
I looked to my mom and she leaned forward.
“We
ll, we’re hoping…soon. We have some things, family things, we’d like to take care of now that Bryn’s out of school.”
“Family things.” Dr. Sabine nodded. “I understand. But they will be expecting you, Bryn. You know, if you’re having second thoughts, either of you, just say the—”
“No,” I stopped her. “It’s not that. Really, I just need a little extra time, that’s all.”
Dr. Sabine nodded. “Okay, I’ll let them know.”
We followed Dr. Sabine down the hall to one of the open labs. Nurse Michelle was snapping on a pair of gloves and my stomach dropped. Thirty minutes and four attempts at finding my vein later, my mom and I were standing outside our front door, listening to my grandmother’s telenovela pulse against the glass.
Inside, my mom reached for the remote, dropping the volume from forty decibels to twelve. “No wonder you’re deaf.”
“And was I bothering anybody?” My grandmother tried to get to her feet. “I can’t even listen to my shows when I’m alone?”
“Apparently not,” I mumbled.
“I’m a grown woman,” she said. “Your sister Lizzy would let me watch her TV in peace.”
“Then why don’t you go live with her?” my mom said.
My grandmother shot her a look and then she walked outside, slamming the door behind her. I looked out the window and she was just standing in the yard, pretending to examine the flowers she’d planted.
They finally looked alive again, petals vibrant instead of wilting and turned to ash the way they’d been in the dream-state. But the sight still knotted me. I hadn’t seen the shadows since Roman woke up but that didn’t mean that I was just as healed as those roses. What if it didn’t mean anything at all?
The garage door opened and my uncle stepped inside. “What’s your grandma doing out there?”
I shrugged. “Running away apparently.”
My mom had her back to us as she unloaded some of the groceries we’d picked up on the way home. My uncle pulled the boarding pass for my trip back to New Mexico from his pocket and handed it to me. I didn’t even have a chance to tuck it somewhere before my mom noticed it in the window’s reflection.
She turned. “What’s that?”
My uncle gripped his chin, eyeing me. “You said you told her.”
“Did,” I said. “Was going to. I…”
“Bryn.” She reached for it. “Bryn…” She shook her head. “This is for tonight? What happened to not keeping me in the dark?”
“I’m sorry. I was going to tell you. I didn’t know he was bringing it this early.” I gave my uncle a look.
“Nah-uh kiddo. Don’t pit your mom and I against each other. I thought she’d agreed…” He turned to my mom. “I thought you’d agreed to this.”
“Funny considering I hadn’t even heard about it. Bryn, something is going on with you. I don’t feel right about you leaving like this again. All this lying, the secrets, it’s not you.”
My stomach twisted because she was wrong. My mom thought she knew me better than anyone but that was only because I was so good at keeping the truth from her. About the shadows, about Roman, about how we’d met. I wasn’t trying to hurt her but how would I ever explain that?
“What if you have an episode?” my mom said, her fingers pinching the bridge of her nose as if she couldn’t even bear the thought. “These past six months they’ve been more unpredictable than ever and then there’s the stress of traveling, of being in a strange place…” She paused. “I know you care about him, Bryn, but maybe too much. What if you can’t handle it?”
I pushed the anger back down, not even bothering to argue as I reached for the boarding pass, revealing the page underneath. “There’s two.”
My mom looked down, spotted her name.
“If you want,” I offered.
“Were you going to give me any time to ask off of work?” she asked, trying to hide her relief that I’d meant to include her this time.
“It’s the weekend,” I said. “I thought…”
“Quick trip?”
For you. I wasn’t going to leave until I knew Roman was going to be okay. Until I knew he remembered. But I couldn’t tell her that, not when I’d already made the commitment to go to Germany. I just nodded.
She pursed her lips, staring down at the boarding pass but still not giving me an answer. Just then the door flew open, my grandmother red-faced and huffing as she came back inside.
She didn’t look at any of us, just made her way back to the couch as she said, “I just remembered that sister of yours doesn’t have a DVR.”
That night after dinner I sat on the edge of my bed, watching the clock. My bag was already packed and laying at my feet but my mom and my uncle had been hidden behind the closed door of her bedroom for the last hour. Every once in a while I’d catch my name, other words rising beneath the tension. I waited for one of them to come out and tell me that I couldn’t go and then for them to fall asleep so that I could sneak out anyway. I didn’t want to have to lie again or to make them worry but despite the fact that my mom still saw me as a child, I wasn’t one.
When the door finally opened, socks shifting down the carpeted hallway, I was lying on my back, just an hour until my flight was supposed to leave. I sat up, both my mom and my uncle in the doorway. She looked defeated and he looked uncertain.
My uncle cleared his throat. “Bryn, your mom has something to say to you.”
She crossed her arms, indignant. “Bryn…”
He squeezed the back of her arm.
“The firm is setting up our biggest garden installation of the year for next week’s opening night at the Opera and they’ve named me project manager. It’s just bad timing. I could try to ask someone to cover for me but I’ve already spent the past month doing all of the prep work and…I’m sorry.”
I opened my mouth but nothing came out.
“Unfortunately…”
“Mom.”
She looked down. “You’ll have to go alone.”
I stood, not sure if I’d just heard her right. “You would let me do that?”
She faced me, checking for cracks. I knew she was afraid that I couldn’t handle it but what she didn’t realize was that I already had. The worst. Seeing him in that hospital bed the first time, it gutted me. But I didn’t break. I wouldn’t.
“According to your uncle, it’s only a matter of time before you’ll no longer need my legal permission to do anything.”
I grabbed her folded arms. “Thank you.”
“Quick trip,” she reminded me. “I will not be on a plane next week dragging you back here.”
I nodded, feeling the sting of the lie already.
“That wasn’t so hard now was it?” my uncle said, reaching past me for my bag. He winked. “Looks like we’ve got a plane to catch.”
When I reached Roman’s floor, the ding of the elevator sent all of the air rushing from my lungs. I passed the nurse’s station and Jia, still as buxom and dolled up as ever, came flying around the corner.
She hugged me, her smile so wide. “Mr. Santillo is going to be so glad you’re back.”
I smiled, not sure which Mr. Santillo she meant.
She lowered her voice, leading me to Roman’s room. “He’s talking some. Since you left he’s made some great progress.”
“He’s talking?”
She nodded as we turned the corner to Roman’s room and then there he was, the bed raised higher than it had been before. Roman was sitting up and staring at the television as his father flipped through the channels.
Nurse Jia knocked, ushering me inside. “Mr. Santillo, someone’s here to see you.”
He looked up but his father was already on his feet, blocking me from view.
“I told you I’d be back,” I said.
“I didn’t know you meant in six days.”
We hovered there, both of us not sure how to talk about the last week without making it sound like Roman wasn’t even in the room.
When Roman was distracted by nurse Jia, his father said, “He’s been doing so great since you left.” Then he ran through everything Roman had eaten, every word he’d managed to say, every exercise he’d done with the physical therapist.
I didn’t know what I’d expected, that time here would have been just as stalled as it was back home. The moment I’d returned I’d done nothing but sulk and try to find a way back while Roman had finally conquered the silence and gripped his father’s hand and smiled. And I hadn’t been here to see any of it.
But the pain pressing on my chest wasn’t just because I was gone, it was because despite waking him up that first night, despite feeling like it was the very thing I’d been put on this earth to do, what if it wasn’t? Maybe Roman was capable of his own miracles. Maybe we weren’t as connected as I thought.
Roman’s father asked Nurse Jia to tell me about how many cups of pudding Roman had managed to eat that morning and I was trying to listen, to smile and absorb what they were feeling but I couldn’t stop looking at Roman’s face in the corner of my eye. It looked strained and pale, his eyes roaming every inch of me with this strange vacancy. I looked away, trying to concentrate on his father’s enthusiasm. But I could still feel Roman’s eyes, pained and trained on my face until I realized that it wasn’t confusion I’d seen in them or even discomfort. It was anger.
7
Roman
When Bryn stepped into the room every break and every bruise was new again. She hovered by my bed, listening to my dad go on about the past week she’d been gone—all of the tiny almost imperceptible milestones he’d been collecting just so he could tell her. But she wasn’t looking at him. I wasn’t even sure if she’d heard a word he’d said. Instead she was staring at me while I just sat there, writhing in my own skin and trying not to stare back. But I knew she could still see it—the disgust. She’d shuddered, looked away, and I knew she thought it was because of her. But the truth was it was because of me. Because of what I was about to do to her.
The Girl In Between series: Books 1-4 Page 30
