People of the Lake

by Nick Scorza

  “I know,” I said. “Don’t ask me how, but I know. And I think we don’t have to worry anymore. For now, anyway.”

  He nodded, slightly relieved. Anything more would take time.

  We shared one final hug. When everyone was gone, my mother told me they wanted to keep me in the hospital one more night for observation..

  “I got a room at a motel near the hospital,” she said. “After tonight, you can stay there with me until your father gets out.”

  I knew it took an epic force of will for her not to ship me back to the city this instant, so I thanked her for it. We said goodbye for the night, and a little while later, they brought me dinner, which I only ate a bit of. The whole time I was worried about Hector. Then, just when I thought I would go crazy flipping channels on the stupid hospital TV, the nurse walked in.

  “I just wanted to let you know, your friend is stable. He’s out of the worst of it.”

  Joy flooded me, along with worry. I wanted to see for myself, to hold him tight and make sure.

  “Can I—”

  “He’s resting,” she said. “Maybe tomorrow he can see people.”

  She turned off the light in my room. I should have been exhausted after all I’d been through. I should have been able to sleep for a week, but I couldn’t even close my eyes. I was thinking of Hector, and Dad, and of the King on the other side of the lake. Would he find a way back? I wasn’t much of a prayer, but I prayed that wouldn’t happen anyway. I thought of Zoe, free now, I hoped, but far away from me. I’d lost her as soon as I’d found her again, but I wouldn’t take back anything I did.

  I knew I wouldn’t sleep a wink lying here, with the strip of bright antiseptic hospital light shining beneath the door. I slipped out of bed, feeling silly in my slippers and paper gown. This hospital wasn’t that big, serving a rural area like this. It wasn’t that hard to follow the signs and find the intensive care ward. I waited until the two nurses at the station were in the depths of conversation before I walked quickly by, like I knew exactly where I was going. I peered in room after room, until I finally saw a familiar mop of jet black hair and slipped into his room.

  Somehow he looked older and younger at the same time, asleep like that. I wanted to wrap my arms around him, but his midsection was swaddled in bandages, and his arm was in an elevated cast. I reached out and touched his cheek, gentle as I could. His eyes fluttered open.

  “Clara?”

  “Shh—they’ll catch us,” I said. “I was so worried about you. Never do that again.”

  “They said an inch lower or higher and I would have been done,” he said. His voice was weak, but his cocky smirk was still there. He glanced over at his arm in its heavy cast. “This is going to put a dent in my productivity.”

  “I’m serious. Do something like this again, and I’ll finish you off myself.”

  He smiled, then he seemed to realize something, and he gave me a hard look.

  “What do you care, you’re leaving soon.”

  “Not yet, I’ll be here while my dad gets better. Besides, I like it here.”

  His eyebrows shot up.

  “Are you crazy? You do remember what we’ve been though over the past few days, right?”

  “I like it here because of the people.”

  His smirk was back.

  “Which people?”

  I didn’t say anything. Instead, I leaned in and kissed him. Our lips met just right this time, and I kissed him deeply, his tongue gently circling mine. His skin was hot, and I could feel the downy stubble on his chin.

  “I’ll come visit you,” he said between kisses. “I don’t care what excuse I have to make up.”

  “We can do this,” I said. “I’ll use any stupid chat app if it lets me see or hear you.”

  “I’ll graduate early,” he said. “I’ll go to college in the city.”

  We went on kissing and making grandiose future plans until our mouths were sore. We only stopped when I realized it was only a matter of time before someone caught us. When we slowly pulled apart, he whispered “I love you” in my ear, and I felt my whole body tingle.

  “I love you, too,” I said.

  We promised to talk later, to not stop talking, and I snuck back to my room like I was floating on the breeze.

  Before I went back to bed, I stopped in the bathroom.

  I stared at my reflection in the mirror, hoping it would stop being me, hoping I would catch a glimpse of Zoe’s mischievous face, but all I saw was how bloodshot and haunted my eyes were. Wherever Zoe was, she wasn’t here.

  I was surprised at how that made me feel. I missed her—I would always miss her—but for the first time in my life, I felt whole. For so long, I had felt guilty for surviving when she was gone, like I couldn’t exist without that half of myself. Now I knew the truth, and though it was stranger than I could imagine, it brought me more peace than I’d ever dared to hope for. I treasured those years I had with Zoe, and all she had done for me, but now I could move forward like never before. I reached out and touched the face in the mirror, content for the first time to see only me.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  There are so many people who made this possible, and nothing I say could express the depth of gratitude I feel—this is a dream come true. Thanks to my amazing agent, Jason Anthony of Massie & McQuilkin Literary Agents, and editor Nicole Frail, and huge thanks also to Alison Weiss and Amanda Panitch. This would not have been possible without any of them. Thanks to Tiffany Morris for an insightful sensitivity read. Thanks to Kate Gartner for the incredible cover, and everyone else at Skyhorse for making this book a reality.

  Thanks to my teachers Justin Cronin, Erin McGraw, Lee K. Abbot, Michelle Herman, Lee Martin, and Kathy Fagan, and to the wonderful writers I was honored to work alongside at Ohio State. Thanks to Nicole Guijarro for believing in and encouraging my writing. Thanks to dear friends Mike Jeffries and Beverly Wang, Eric and Katka Leong, Doug Watson and Michelle Burke, Dave and Meg Levine, Maureen Traverse and Zack Leven, and Erin Ferencik, and to so many others.

  Thanks to Neila Douglas for her energetic support. Thanks to my parents, Ed Scorza and Patricia Barth, and my brother, Andrew, for years of putting up with my writing and all the help they offered along the way, and of course special thanks to Melanie Douglas for far more than I could ever put into words.