by Jessica Park
From her spot on the floor, Amy’s voice shakes. “Costa?”
He opens his eyes.
“It’s me. Amy.” Slowly, she gets up and crosses the room until she is in front of him.
Because Costa has relaxed his body enough, Sam tentatively takes his arm away. Costa rises to a stand, his face fraught with emotion.
Amy and Costa step into each other and embrace, each silent and each reeling in the unspoken exchange flowing between them over the shared history of horror only they can understand.
AMY’S PRESENCE IS THE ONLY THING that stops Costa from tripping again. The bond between them is like nothing I’ve seen before, an instantaneous reconnection that has left little room for Sam or me. They are in the hammock that swings offside the patio right now, lying together side by side, their legs entwined and their eyes locked.
From the pieces of conversation that I overhear, a mutual hatred for my father is certainly part of their tie. I also hear bits of their whispered words about the accident and first trip. It’s something that neither will talk about much to anyone else. I suppose there’s a degree of privacy around that trauma that is theirs alone.
I want more than anything to have a complete family, one with parents and a sister whom I love and who love me. Instead, I have what I have. Resenting them all is a drain though. I do love Amy, but we are not without our troubles even though we’re together again. I can’t forget how awful she’s been to me since our father left. Understanding the reasons doesn’t erase the past. My parents though? My relationship with both of them is too fractured, and I don’t want to see either of them again. Ever. Even if my father had answers about death tripping, I don’t want those answers from him. We can survive on our own.
You don’t leave your children—no matter what.
“Stella, can you grab my phone for me?” Costa calls from the hammock. “I want to show Amy a picture of Toby. I can’t believe I haven’t done that already.”
“Sure.” I get up from the lounge chair and go inside to retrieve his phone.
Being with Amy has brought him some degree of peace. Costa has told Amy everything about Toby, but he’s done most of it out of earshot. I assume it’s out of respect for Sam. I can’t pinpoint how exactly, but for the past two days, Costa has been more stable than I would have imagined, considering his earlier blowup. I wouldn’t say that he’s happy exactly, but he’s…thoughtful, serene. I’m jealous, I suppose. I don’t love that I feel this way, but it’s tough to watch Amy be so drawn to Costa—and, if I’m honest, him to her. It’s petty, considering the much larger issues, so I’ve been trying to brush it off.
I take it as a good sign though that he’s talking about Toby. He’s said nothing to Sam or me about his son or our unsuccessful trip since he’s come back, but something about connecting with Amy is making him comfortable. It’s also the first time since we were young that I’ve seen the caretaking, nurturing side of her come out. The way she asks him for details about Toby as a baby, how she takes Costa’s hand when he struggles to share—she’s mothering him as she used to mother me.
When I hand him his phone, Costa is recounting stories about Toby’s first words and first steps. “He called me Dah-yee, which was pretty awesome.”
I see Sam smile from his chair next to me, but he doesn’t look up from his book.
“Hey, Sammy!” Costa says as he rolls out of the hammock. “Remember what Toby called you?”
Sam’s smile grows bigger. “Of course I do. Ish.”
I laugh. “For Bishop? I thought I was the only person who called you that.”
“He used to screech every time he saw Sam. Ish! Ish!” Costa holds out his hand to Amy and helps her from the hammock. “See how cute he was?”
Amy’s hair is finally less unkempt, and she has nice color in her face again. I haven’t seen her looking this good in years.
“So, let me see the pictures!” she demands teasingly, grabbing his phone.
It only takes a second for her to react. Her face freezes. Amy begins scrolling through photos until tears are rolling down her cheeks. None of us seem to know what to make of this. She is visibly shaking.
“Amy, what is it?” I walk to her.
She lowers the phone and looks at Costa. “This is Toby? This is your son?”
He nods, confused.
A mix of joy and disbelief blows over her face. “I know him.”
Costa freezes. “You what?”
“I…I know him.” Her voice breaks. “I’ve been watching him for months and months, over a year.”
“Watching him? How?” I ask. “Oh my God, Amy. You mean, you’ve been watching him when you’re under?”
She nods as the enormity of this sinks in. “He was why I couldn’t leave Chicago.”
“And he was why you were tripping so much, wasn’t he?” I offer.
Amy grabs a stunned Costa by the arm. “Costa, Toby is not dead. He’s not! I haven’t seen him in a month though, and I thought he was gone. I tried to surface him, but I couldn’t. We just hit a barrier, and I couldn’t get him up with me. I’d stay under for as long as I could so that he wouldn’t be alone.” Amy’s words tumble out of her so quickly that I can hardly understand her. “I used to be able to find him so easily. He was always there, and I’d…I’d hold him and twirl him around. We’d play Patty Cake and Peek-a-Boo. I always wanted to hear his laugh because I could see him giggle so hard. He has huge dark eyes, blue, just like you do. I…I should have known it the minute I saw you. And his hair is jet-black, like yours. He’s wearing a brown outfit, a one-piece thing.”
Costa is visibly trembling. “On the feet are—”
“Are bear claws.” Amy is nodding and wiping her face. “It’s a bear outfit with a little tail on the back.”
“I have the matching hat with ears.” He looks to Sam and me. “Is this…possible? Is it?” He’s too scared to trust that this could be true.
After failing to find Toby the other day, I can only imagine how fragile Costa is right now. The possibility that Toby really is accessible feels like more than he can stand to hope for.
Sam puts his hands through his hair. He’s as daunted and surprised by this idea as anyone. “I don’t know…I mean…yes, yes, it’s possible. In our world, anything is. Amy’s been with him.”
“Of course I’ve been with him!” She flashes anger. She’s still edgy with Sam and me. “You believe me, don’t you? I wouldn’t make this up. Costa, I wouldn’t do that to you.”
Sam speaks evenly, “I didn’t suggest that you made anything up. You need to relax and give us a moment here.”
Costa is pacing back and forth, agitated and daring to believe this. “But where did he go? Why did he leave her? Why…why was he with her in the first place?” He turns to Amy. “Why was he with you?”
“I don’t know. I have no idea. He’s the only other person I’ve seen while tripping.”
Something is tugging at my brain, and I run through what I know. All of death tripping seems to have meaning. It’s based on emotions. That would be true for Toby also.
“Sam…”
Everyone is talking now, animated, and trying to piece together this story.
“Sam!”
“What? What is it?”
“You said it the other day…” The idea is pulling together for me.
He shakes his head. “Said what?”
“Home,” I say, smiling. “Home is a beacon. You can always find your way home when you’re under even if you’re otherwise lost.”
His face lights up. “Yes. Home.” He looks at Costa. “Toby drifted from here to Chicago because that’s where you were tripped. It’s a birthplace, a home of sorts, for you. And Amy is part of you because of your first trip, so she is a home also. After you died, Costa, you left the state. Toby wouldn’t have been able to seek you out because…” Sam struggles to figure this out. “Because his father wasn’t home. Eventually, he tried another home associated with his dad. That was w
here Amy was. It’s not just a location, but Amy must…smell of Costa in some way. They’ve got the same…trip residue.”
“So, where is he now?” Amy asks. “Why did he leave me?”
“Because Costa’s been tripping in Maine again and trying to find him. Toby must sense that. He was pulled between Chicago and Maine, between you and Costa. He’s trying to find you, Costa. He’s trying to find his dad.”
I’m nearly bursting now. “Do you see? With you and Amy here, you’ll be the brightest beacon for him. We can find him.”
Costa’s eyes go to Sam, his best friend and someone he depends on and trusts more than anyone in the world. “Sammy?”
“We can find him,” Sam says with conviction. “We can. I can get vision again. I’m sure.”
Amy nods. “Good. You’ll need it. Toby can be a little skittish, and he’s fast.”
My spirits are lifting quickly. “So, if the four of us trip together, we’ll have the best chance. I trip so that Sam has stronger vision, and you and Costa will be there to draw Toby out, right?”
“Exactly.” Amy is breathless. “Costa, you can surface him, right?”
We all grow silent, but Costa finally answers her, “Sam has to surface him.”
“Oh. Okay.” At least she has enough tact not to say anything else.
Costa obviously hasn’t detailed Toby’s death as much as I thought, and I feel for Sam. He looks horribly uncomfortable in what is otherwise a moment charged with positivity. He starts to say something, but he stops himself.
Amy continues, “Anyway, like I said, Toby can be skittish, sensitive. He was always more likely to come to me easily if I’d tripped in a…I don’t know…in the right mood. Calmly. Like, right now? Right now, we’re all too fired up. It’d freak him out. We have to be slow and steady about this trip.”
Sam agrees, “She’s got a good point. That plays into the emotion of death tripping. We have to bring the right energy. And there’s another thing—the beacon. The idea of location is important.” His hesitation is obvious. “We need to go into the lake, to the exact spot.”
Immediately, Costa nods. “Smart. Kids are literal. Their thinking is primitive, especially for a kid as little as Toby. That’s the last place he was in Maine. He’ll be willing to come here. There’s trust.”
I can see how he is fighting to remain logical, but his hope and anticipation are bubbling barely below the surface.
“Is he…Amy, is he older now? Did he grow?”
“It doesn’t seem like it to me. He looks like he did in that last picture I saw. I don’t think he’s aged at all.”
“Did he look okay to you? Did he cry a lot? Was he scared?”
“Oh, Costa, no. He’s great. Smiled a lot. Slept in my arms. I’d let him nap. And sometimes, he would grab my hair and laugh. I wish I could have heard his laugh because it looked like it’d be so sweet. He’s just wonderful.”
Sam is fascinated. “So, somehow, he adapted to living under, huh? It’s pretty amazing how resilient kids are.”
“I need…to sit down,” Costa says. He suddenly looks faint, and Sam walks him to a chair. “The thought of him down there with no one…God, until you. Thank God for you, Amy. You took care of my son. I’ll never be able to thank you…this is a lot. This is all possible? This could be real? I can’t hope again, not after last time when I was so sure.”
Amy kneels in front of him. “Toby is under. I’ve spent many months with him, and he’s real.”
Costa holds back tears. “I’m scared.”
“Stay calm,” she says. “Toby needs that.”
“Okay.” He pushes a smile through his worry. “We’re gonna need a lot of watermelon.”
Sam ruffles Costa’s hair. “I’m gonna buy every watermelon I can find.”
SAM WAS INSISTENT that we wait until the next day to trip in search of Toby. All of us were too nervous and heightened in every way, and there was no way that would be conducive to a strategic search. He also felt that a night trip was smartest. Toby would be asleep and easier to find.
Sam tripped yesterday, and he got the vision power back like it was nothing. All that work to get it the first time…
He’s been overly attentive and protective with me today, and I’ve had to repeatedly reassure him that I’ll be okay tripping. I won’t pass out again.
It actually feels quite likely that I will, but I don’t want him to know that.
The four of us stand side by side, holding hands on the pebbly lakeshore. It’s a clear night, and the moon is throwing white light that ripples across in the water.
“Are we ready?” Sam asks.
“Yes,” Amy and I say immediately.
“Costa?” Sam shakes his friend’s hand. “You good?”
“Yeah. But there’s one thing.”
“What’s that?”
“Stella is going to need help tripping,” he says.
“Shit,” Sam mutters.
“What do you mean? Can’t you just, you know…” I mime a gun to my head and then a knife across my throat. I know that we’re swimming out to where Toby fell through the ice, but I didn’t think about the actual dying part, which seems rather inconsequential in the scheme of what we’re doing. “One of those. Why can’t we do that?”
“We should trip the way Toby died.” Sam takes a deep breath. “Drowning.”
I don’t like the sound of this, but I try to stay relaxed. “Okay.”
Costa lets go of Amy’s and Sam’s hands and stands in front of me. “The rest of us have tripped enough that we’ll be able to drown ourselves. Your instinct will be to fight it, to live.”
“So, you’ll do it, CJ. You’ll drown me then.” We can repeat what we had before. This should be simple.
He stares at me for a minute. “I can’t do it.”
“Why?”
He raises an eyebrow, and a bit of a smile peeks through his lips.
“Oh.” I can’t look at Sam right now. What happens when Costa trips me doesn’t exactly set the right mood to go into this trip. Now that we have a better handle on what we’re doing, tripping while overloaded with sexual energy doesn’t seem appropriate. “Sure. Amy then?”
“You’ll fight hard. Amy isn’t strong enough,” Costa explains.
Shit. It’s no wonder Sam has been sticking particularly close to me today.
I squeeze his hand. “It’s okay, Sam.”
He doesn’t say anything, but I know how much he doesn’t want to do this.
“You’re not really killing me,” I say. “It’s all right.”
“It’s not going to be like the other times,” Sam says quietly. “You’ll feel it at first. Drowning…it takes longer for the sensation of death to kick in.”
I squeeze his hand. “I understand. This is still my choice.”
“Sam…” Costa’s eyes are full of apology. “You know I can’t do it, or I would.”
“Why? Why can’t Costa do it?” Amy is at a loss.
“I’ll explain later,” he says, taking his place next to her again. “Just trust me.”
I pull Sam to face me, and reluctantly, he looks at me.
“You can do this. I’m telling you to. I know that it goes against everything you are, but this is the only way. Unless you know someone else who wants to step in and kill me, you’re up, Bishop.”
“I’m going to have to hurt you. How can I do that?”
“Because you’re going to. That’s the deal.” I lift up on my toes so that I’m closer to his height, and I rub my nose against his. “And then you’ll make up for it later,” I whisper.
He gives in and lets a smile come through. “You’re something else, Stella.”
I turn back to the water and confidently take his hand. “Let’s go.”
Together, we walk into the water, only letting go of each other’s hands when our feet leave the sand.
Costa swims to a spot a good forty-five feet from the shore and stops. “About here.”
Th
e way he’s looking at Sam pains me. This is where it happened—where his son died. Of course he’d remember the place where his world crashed. How could he not?
Sam swims in behind me, and I flinch sharply.
“Hey, hey, easy,” he says. I have no idea how he can remain so solid in this place of hell. “I’ll tell you when.”
“Sorry.” I hate that I just reacted that way to Sam’s touch. “I’m just a little jumpy.”
“You can’t be,” Amy says with too much of a critical tone.
“It doesn’t help that you’ve been such a bitch to me,” I say angrily.
We all tread water, the only sound the small splashes we make.
“You’re right,” she says. “I apologize. I have a few bad habits to break.”
“Like your hideous snoring?” I’m apparently still able to grin in the face of tragedy.
“That’s not a habit.”
I splash her full-on, and she laughs.
She wipes lake water from her eyelids. “Okay, okay. Like…treating you as if you’re the worst sister in the world when you’re really the best?”
I just look at her. I don’t want to answer this.
“Just say yes. I know it’s true. And you are the best,” she says.
“You used to be the best,” I say. “I want you to be that again.”
“I’m going to try. I swear, I will.” For once, her sincerity is undeniable.
“Then, say it,” I demand.
“Say what?”
“You know. Say it.”
She sighs. “Oh, fine.” Amy paddles for a few moments, and finally, she relents. “I love you so mush.”
“Good.” I wink. “I love you so mush, too.”
“You ready to die with me, sister?”
I smile at her. “I’m ready to die with all of you. Sam?”
His nerves are hidden well, but I know this is difficult for him. “I’m going to move an arm in front of you, okay?”
“Okay.” I watch his hand caress the water as he swoops it across the surface.
“Costa and Amy? Go under together. We’ll be there in a few minutes.”
Costa takes Amy’s hand. “Stella? Thank you. And, Sam…” He falters.