Lucid

by Adrienne Stoltz; Ron Bass

  If I don’t turn a corner, I can stay out of Mystic, and I can stay Maggie. This is lucky because Riverside Park runs down the whole island. I can just go from one end to the other, and when it gets dark, I can sleep under a bench; it’s not that cold. Of course I shouldn’t sleep at all. So Sloane can’t take me away. As long as I’m awake, she’s screwed. Which is exactly what she deserves.

  I stare out at the water. Across the sound, Fishers Island, where Gordy and I will build our dream house. Of course, that’s crazy. Gordy is only my friend. I’ll build my dream house with James. Maybe in Spain; he loves Spain. It goes with his guitar. There are pheasants on Fishers. I like their feathers. I wish my ears were pierced.

  Oh, that’s right, they are. If I’m Maggie. So I touch my lobe. And I smile. I am Maggie. The Circle Line boat goes by full of German tourists, taking pictures of Manhattan’s skyline and all the German tourists on the shore, who are taking pictures back at them. Germans are the new Japanese. They’re everywhere, but of course, since they’re not real, they’re nowhere.

  I sit down on a bench and comfort myself with this reality. Nothing can hurt me. Nothing I say or do matters. I realize that I’m safe.

  He puts his hand on my thigh. I like that. I turn to see who he is. It’s the love of my life. James kisses my neck, right in the perfect spot. I melt into him and he engulfs me. I’m warm and tingly. I look at him. He’s so beautiful. He’s actually perfect. In every way. I lean in to taste his mouth. He teases me, nibbling my lower lip. And then he kisses me full. Pulls my thigh up to rest on top of his lap so he’s between my legs.

  He rests my head back on the bench seat. And I open my eyes, wanting to see just his face and sky above him.

  He’s Tyler.

  I kick and hit him, and he tries to block my fists. He stands up, bewildered.

  “What are you doing?!” I scream. And everyone in the park looks at me.

  “Whoa, I’m sorry. I thought you were into it.”

  “I’m your sister!”

  “No, you’re not. Why are you saying that?”

  But before I can ask him what he meant, he isn’t there anymore. No one is there with me, and no one was there at all. Only the people staring. Of course, they aren’t real either. So it hardly matters. I pluck a piece of my hair. It’s black. So I’m Maggie, who is not his sister. So there.

  I start walking home. I’ll risk turning corners. I just need to be alone. If an imaginary person can be alone. I want Bill to walk with me. To take me home. Bill has such long legs, it takes two of my steps to meet one of his. I’m running through all of my favorite jokes because I want to make Bill laugh when he gets here. My most favorite joke, at least of the ones Sloane hasn’t told him, is the parrot joke. Parrots live forever. They’re mean. They bite, even if you own them for a hundred years. Even Sloane doesn’t like parrots all that much.

  I turn onto my street. Someone’s waiting on the steps. Maybe it’s Bill. Wasn’t he supposed to walk me home? Hold my hand?

  It isn’t Bill. It’s my dad. He’s got that stern face that used to scare me so much. How can he be angry at me? Maybe he’s embarrassed that I’m crazy. Blaming himself that this all started in the first place. When, of course, it was Mom’s rule. She started it all. I don’t hate her. She thought it was best.

  I sit on the stoop beside him. He’s tying his running shoes to go for his jog before work. Oh, wait, it’s Saturday.

  “Sloane, your mother and I had a talk about, you know, your confusion in New York.”

  We are in New York, but I feel it would be rude to point that out.

  “We’re going to take you to a very good doctor. Gordy’s parents recommended him…”

  “You told them?! Don’t you know they’ll tell Gordy, and everyone will know!”

  “Of course they won’t. They understand and they’re worried for you. And if Gordy did ever hear something, he would never ever spread anything like that. He loves you.”

  I know he does. It just gets sadder and sadder.

  “We’re all going to talk to the doctor together. Then they’ll give you some medication and you’ll feel better, and they’ll shave your head and lie you down on the table and strap your arms and legs tight so you won’t hurt yourself when the electricity starts.”

  He smiles and I know he loves me.

  “Thanks, Daddy. I’m so happy we get to go together. But let’s not bring Max; he might not understand.”

  “Who’s Max?” Benjamin asks. It’s Benjamin now. He looks fine, not dead at all.

  “He’s no one, just someone real I made up.”

  Benjamin understands. Dads always do. At least my dad.

  “I can’t stay long,” he says.

  “Because you’re dead.” I want him to know I understand.

  “I miss you,” he says. And there are tears in his eyes. It’s good to know that you can cry when you’re dead.

  “When Sloane makes me go away, will I be dead?”

  “No, it’s different.”

  “Will I get to be with you?”

  “Of course,” and he kisses my head.

  Maybe that’s the soft landing.

  He isn’t there anymore, and I go up to the apartment.

  I have to pee. It’s good that the toilet is in the darkroom because I realize that my deadline for yearbook is Monday. This is Saturday, I think. I take the next print and begin to swish it in the stop bath so that it won’t overdevelop. It’s taking longer than it should. It’s my favorite picture of Bill. But I can always reshoot it when I’m dead.

  I go to hang the print on the line, but there are no pins. I start opening all the drawers, rummaging. Where are they? This is crazy. Who would do this? Take all the pins and not replace them? It must’ve been Thomas. It’s just like him.

  I rip the drawers free and turn them upside down. Stuff clatters everywhere, but no pins yet. I throw open the medicine cabinet…

  “What are you doing?”

  I see Jade’s face in the mirror. I whirl around. “Shut the door! You’ll ruin all the film!”

  She’s shocked somehow. Confused. Poor kid.

  “What film?”

  I hold up the print. “It’s my best picture of Bill. For the tribute page. I can’t let you spoil it.”

  “Maggie, it’s just a washcloth. You’re scaring me.” Her little voice is so soft. I have to calm her down.

  “Don’t worry. Maggie will be here soon. And you and she can walk Bella. No, it’s Boris. It’s a boy. Bella is the one with the broken leg that Dr. French rescued. She doesn’t look anything like Boris. I’m sorry.”

  “Maggie?”

  “She’s coming, honey. I’m her friend Sloane. Just let me finish this, and we’ll call her.” I kneel down to find those damn pins. I’ll have to make do with this little girl’s barrette. I hang the picture of Bill on the line. I’ve never noticed before, but James is in the crowd in the background. He’s staring straight at me.

  The little girl is gone. I walk through her apartment, which I’ve always liked. Even though I wouldn’t give up my yard and my tree for anything. I open the front door.

  “Maggie?”

  I turn back. My sister, Jade, is standing there. She looks desperately upset about something. I go to her, but the closer I get, the more I can see how terrified she is. So I drop to my knees and hold out my arms. She hesitates only a heartbeat and comes into my hug, clutching me tighter than I can ever remember. Her hair smells like strawberries.

  “Are you okay, sweetie?”

  “Are you?” she asks with those wide eyes.

  The question catches me off guard. Why wouldn’t I be?

  “Totally. But I could use one more hug.”

  I get the hug. But it comes with a question. “Who’s Sloane?”

  I blink. What a strange, strange thing to ask. “I don’t know,” I say. “Is it a friend of yours?”

  I can feel her tense in my arms. She’s getting scared again.

  “You sai
d your name was Sloane. In the bathroom.”

  I laugh. “You know, for an actress, you’d think I’d learn better diction. That is my real first name, you know. But I can’t imagine why I used it.”

  “Maybe you were, like, rehearsing something.”

  I can’t remember anything like that, but it seems to calm her down. So I nod as if suddenly remembering. I laugh again. “You know, I think I’d forget my head if it wasn’t screwed on sometimes.”

  “That was the scariest thing I ever saw you rehearse. Is it for a scary movie?”

  “The scariest. I have to go find Andrew; will you be okay alone until Nicole gets home?”

  “Boris is here. He’s our watchdog, you know. Will you tell Andrew that he owes me a spaghetti and butter sauce?”

  The street is very dirty. They haven’t picked up the garbage and it’s hot out. That never happens in our little town; we’ve had the same garbageman since I was in kindergarten. Arthur. There was something about the way he would wave at me that made me uncomfortable.

  This is obviously a part of town I don’t know. Which confuses me because I thought I lived here. Unless of course I’m Maggie, in which case I know this street quite well. It’s taking me to that place with the salad I like. And all the weird people who eat there and try to hide their lives from me.

  The restaurant is packed because it’s raining now. Umbrellas are such odd ways of staying dry. You’d think with all the technology and everything, I mean spaceships and iPhones, somebody would have invented something a little more elegant and effective. Though I wish I had one because I’m very wet.

  I have a friend in this restaurant who brings me my salad; I’m hoping he will get me dry. He sees me. I wave cheerfully since I’ve forgotten his name. He has a life partner who’s an architect and quite successful. When Andrew and I build our dream house, we’ll hire him. Bill used to paint houses in the summer. White houses are the worst. They burn your eyes. I wonder what happens to your eyeballs when you die. Sloane carries a little card with her that gives her eyeballs away to someone who needs them. She’s a good person. Better than me.

  It’s a license, that card. From Connecticut. I can’t drive. I take the subway. Or the GEM. Now that Andrew is my life partner. It’s sad to have a life partner and no life. I wonder if this is how Sloane feels about Bill.

  My friend the architect’s friend finds me a table. I kiss his cheek as a tip. It’s cheaper than money. I stare around at all the people pretending not to hate me. They don’t fool me. Nobody fools me. That one over there is really a criminal. If I watch her long enough, I will be able to discern her felony. I doubt that it’s violent, but contemptible nonetheless. My salad comes. It’s cold. I wish it was soup.

  That woman in the blue top is a kind of hooker. A special kind. Like in Russia, where all the pretty girls make their living by being pretty. Sort of like actresses. She’s from Iowa. Where I’ve never been, although I could certainly play a girl from Iowa. Play it in my sleep. No. I laugh out loud. I play a girl from Connecticut in my sleep.

  The man she’s with. The man who is paying her to be pretty. I can’t even believe this. I’m sorry, he cannot be allowed to get away with this. Someone has to do something. I stand and go to their table. They look up quizzically. As if they don’t know exactly why I’m there.

  “I saw, you know. I saw you slip the gun into your pocket. That’s illegal and wrong; this isn’t that kind of a restaurant.”

  They stare at me with predictably dumb expressions. Unfortunately for them, they are not professional actors, and I can see right through them.

  “You have to leave,” I say, “you have to leave right now.”

  The man squeezes the woman’s hand across the table. She won’t look at me. “Listen, I don’t know what you’re on, but if you don’t leave us alone, I’ll have them throw you out of here.”

  “I know who you are. I know why you’ve been following me. You work with Thomas. And I know what you did to Bill.”

  “Waiter?!” the hooker says nervously. But the killer holds up his hand. He wants to see how much I know.

  “Bill, huh? What did I do to old Bill?”

  “You killed him. You left that puppy in the road. Her name was Bella. And he had to swerve, and his car swung into that tree. And he was killed. In less than a second. His neck snapped and his head smashed on the steering wheel and there was blood all over the windshield and the leather and his blue-striped sweater. Bones popped out of his skin. And his eyes were just staring open like a fish on ice. Don’t look at me like that. You know that’s how you planned it.”

  He smiles.

  “Just take your gun and your skanky hooker and get out of here. These are nice people.”

  He stands. He’s very big. And he smells like bad cologne, which is customarily used by his type.

  “Fun time is over, sweetie. Now get the hell out of this place before I call the cops.”

  I stand my ground.

  “Go on. Go.”

  And he shoves me. It doesn’t hurt, but hard enough to make me step back into another table. Glasses and a bottle of wine crash on the floor. I look around and the world is watching. They don’t have to pretend anymore. They can hate me and I can hate them.

  The architect’s life partner comes and grabs my arm. He’s against me too. I’m surprised and hurt. He starts to pull me toward the door.

  “Get your hands off of me!”

  But he doesn’t. Now he’s pulling me across the floor. I swing my arms and kick, but he drags me anyway. Everyone shouts.

  “I need my umbrella!” I scream. But no one cares. It’s raining outside.

  One of them pushes through everyone, running toward me. I’m frightened. I cover my face so he can’t hit me.

  “I’m sorry,” he says. “I’ll take care of her.”

  It’s him. It’s someone I know. It isn’t James, though. James is beautiful and perfect. And James would be angry. This is the other one. The one who loves me.

  Andrew wraps his jacket around me. And hugs me tight as he takes me to the door. I’m grounded in my body by his touch. It’s raining harder now. He holds his jacket over my head and we go to his tiny, ridiculous car. He settles me in the passenger seat and buckles my seat belt for me as if I am Jade. He ignores the rain pounding down on him and leans close and tells me everything is going to be all right.

  If he only knew.

  Come to think, he probably does.

  As we drive to his place, I’m not listening to his soft words. I’m wondering if he can read my mind. Since all of us are Sloane’s creation, then all of our minds are hers, and even if they can’t read my mind, they’re all following her orders, trying to make me stay. So that she can kiss Andrew instead of James. That’s not as crazy as it sounds. She dreams of Andrew because he’s the one she really wants to kiss, which she can only do through me.

  We climb the steps to his apartment. I realize how cold I’ve been because now I’m shaking so hard I can’t control it. He turns on his shower, steamy hot. He takes off all of my clothes. They are sticking to me from the rainwater. He puts me in the shower and I sit down on the tile. He sticks his hand through the curtain to hold mine. He’s never seen me naked before. I’m very naked. I think I’m crying because there’s salty water on my face.

  When I’m warm and dry, I climb into his big bed, under his down comforter. I’m not naked now. He gave me a sweatshirt and sweatpants from his high school track team. They’re blue. He was a quarter miler.

  He leaves the room to make me hot chocolate. I’m fine. I’m Maggie, no doubt about it. Andrew is really here and I love him. When he comes back in, I’ll tell him. I just have to be careful not to fall asleep and lose myself, because I know I won’t be coming back.

  “Here, drink this,” he says. He sits next to me in the bed, on top of the covers. I don’t want the hot chocolate. But I feel bad because he made it.

  “The dream came to town, huh?”

  I nod.
His comforter feels like a warm cloud around me.

  “You have to let go of it. You know that, don’t you?”

  “Don’t leave me.” Now I’m crying for sure.

  “You’re the one leaving me,” he says. “And I can’t stand that. So just for my sake. Please.” His hand is so gentle and big as it holds mine.

  I look in his eyes. I tell him the truth.

  “It’s too late.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  sloane

  My eyes open. I’m completely disoriented. My head whirls to my right to see the clock. But it’s not there. Who took it? I turn back, and it’s on the left. But I don’t keep my clock there. Suddenly, I realize why. I’m in Andrew’s bed, of course. Where is he? And more importantly, what happened last night?

  Did we have sex? We were talking. He gave me hot chocolate. He was being really sweet to me. Maybe I just fell asleep. I look around. This isn’t his room, I don’t think. Was there a tree outside his window? Maybe.

  But that’s not his tree. That’s Sloane’s tree.

  “Andrew?” I call out. There’s no answer.

  So I sit on the edge of the bed and try to collect my thoughts. That’s Sloane’s tree, so maybe I’m dreaming now. I’m dreaming I’m Sloane. Shit, she’s late for school. No, it’s Saturday. Thank God. I’m not sure I could go through some surreal day pretending that all those kids are real and everything in their world is real and trying to pay attention in some classroom.

  But Monday will come. That’s okay. I won’t have until Monday. I’ll be gone. Emma knows. She knows that only Maggie could invent something like this, only Maggie is brilliant enough and weird enough and lonely enough. Especially lonely.

  So it’s okay. I still wonder why I’m here today. And then I realize. Maggie wants me to say goodbye to everyone in her dream. I can’t really do that, can I? It would freak everybody out. But they’re not real. But it would freak Maggie out and she’d wake up and then I’d never get to say goodbye.

  Not saying goodbye wouldn’t be all right with me. Whoever I am, there’s enough of me to love everyone in my life and to feel sad about losing them. I’m not sad to be losing me. I’m sad to be losing them.