Lucid

by Adrienne Stoltz; Ron Bass

  I feel very calm, not like how confused and panicked I was last night when I was Maggie. Thank God for Andrew. He’ll keep me safe once I stop dreaming. Everything will get better then.

  In the mirror I notice how red and puffy my eyes are. But that can’t be from last night. Maggie’s eyes are ice blue. And asleep. My eyes are puffy because Sloane was crying last night. And they’re green, like hers. And she digs her fingernails into her palms when she’s upset and my hands are cut. Maggie never does that. We made my dad so scared. And I’m sure he told Mom after he put me to bed. So Sloane will have to deal with their worry. No problem. I’ll just lie. I’ll think of something. I’m fine.

  I come downstairs, and Dad is making pancakes for Max. I’ve seen this a million times when Mom is at the church doing the altar flowers for Sunday. And now it hits me like a train running through my chest at full speed. I’ll never see this again. I’ll never see them again. Tears fill my eyes. I can’t let them see that. I turn away and wipe them quickly. I hear Dad say, “Morning, honey, I’ll be right back.”

  I’m alone with Max. He looks over and says something I don’t even hear. I remember the first time I saw him at the hospital. He was the most precious thing I’ve ever seen. I love him so much. I just walk over and grab his ears and give him this kiss on his syrupy mouth while he’s still talking. He squirms from the cooties and asks what do I think I’m doing.

  What I think I’m doing is kissing him goodbye, but what I say is, “Just messing around. Can I have a pancake?”

  “No.”

  I’m going to miss this kid. But then again, will Maggie really miss any of this? Any of them? Or will my missing disappear too?

  “You can have two,” Max offers. He flops them on the empty plate at my seat. The same chair where I’ve eaten seventeen years’ worth of breakfasts. Suddenly, I wish I could take it with me. As if there was a me and a somewhere.

  My dad appears with his too-bright smile. Here we go. He asks to “show me something” in the yard. I play along. As soon as we get outside, he asks me how I’m feeling and how I slept last night.

  “So much better, Daddy. Thank you. I’m sorry I scared you yesterday. I scared me too. I don’t know what the heck was going on. But I feel fine now.”

  “Your mom and I want you to talk to someone about this. Her name is Dr. Barrows, and she’s really nice, and she wants to see you Monday morning; is that okay?”

  I listen with my serious and good-daughter face.

  “I’m so glad that you found someone for me to talk to. Only, please can I see her after school? I have finals coming up, and I just can’t afford to miss the prep. Especially in calculus. Would that be okay?”

  He actually has to think for a moment before agreeing. He’s so scared but of course realizes that if he’s not going to commit me to Bellevue or something, I would have to live a normal life during therapy. Assuming there would have been a life to live.

  He seems relieved that I’m acting so responsibly and taking things so well. I just want to hug him. So I do. He squeezes me so tight. And rubs his head against mine like we are bears. I love that. It’s my last time to love that. Unless Maggie will let me remember. Unless Maggie will remember.

  I make sure that Mom is coming back for lunch so that I have my chance to see her one last time. Which makes me wonder if I’m safe all day until I fall asleep one last time. Or if Maggie can just wake up in the middle somehow. I can’t take the chance. I have to make every minute count.

  I tell my dad that I’m going to drop by Kelly’s and then go see Gordy and that I’ll have my cell with me if he needs me for something. Right. Like making sure I haven’t jumped off a bridge or something. He seems pretty okay with it.

  “Remember the first time we took a whole Saturday and went to Napatree so you could teach me to take pictures? And we spent so much time at the fort, when we came around the point, the tide had come in and you had to carry me through the freezing water?”

  “I sure do. Let’s do that again. Maybe next week?”

  “I’d love to.” I mean that.

  I text Kelly to meet me at the Green Marble. She wonders what’s up since I know she has to be at work by ten. As I wait for her, I feel jealous that Kelly will get to go to college and grow up, have babies and a career. Then I laugh out loud. Kelly is as unreal as I am. She won’t get to do anything. At least she’ll never have to take her physics final. She hates physics. She is looking forward to prom.

  Kelly shows up with one of her sly smiles.

  “So did you sleep with him?” she asks.

  “Stop beating around the bush. If you want to know something, just come right out and ask.”

  “Okay. Did you sleep with him?”

  “Not yet.” And this is the moment I realize that I’m going to. It has to be today. I have to make it happen. And it is the most important thing of all to me.

  Kelly babbles on about things I need to know for my first time. Like, wear a condom. Duh. Don’t put pressure on it to be a dream come true (I love that phrase in this situation) because it will probably be awkward. Trust that it will get better. Just think about how much you care about him.

  As she talks and we giggle, I almost forget that this isn’t real. It’s all so normal. I guess that’s why Maggie invented it.

  When we say goodbye, I don’t feel as sad as I thought I would. Maybe I’m getting used to this. Maybe it’ll all be easy.

  I decide to cut through Haley Farm to get to Gordy’s. I take the long path, the one that winds past the foundation of the old farmhouse and up into the shade of the trees. It is so green and dense this way. I follow the Indian stone wall. But hit briars. Am I on a deer path? I haven’t been in this part of Central Park before. Which is odd. Because I’ve been everywhere in the park. I think Sheep Meadow is right through there.

  But it isn’t. I’m lost. Lost in the middle of Manhattan. I listen for traffic, but there’s nothing. How is that possible? I hear a stick break and leaves shuffle. Something is coming. I turn in every direction but don’t know which way to go. I can’t tell where the sound came from. Or who is following me. But he’s dangerous. Because when I stop walking, he stops walking.

  I pull out my cell phone. I’ll call Andrew and he’ll find me. But there’s no reception, which is crazy because I always have service in the park.

  I hear the man again. I think I can hear his breathing. And I start to run. But the faster I run, the closer he gets. My heart is pounding. I’m gulping for air. I see a main path up ahead, but I trip hard over a rock. My knee hurts so badly, and when I look up…

  He’s right there. I don’t know him at first.

  “Hi there, sweetie. I wasn’t sure I’d see you again.” He’s the guy from Union Square Café. The one with the hooker. The big guy. And he has the most awful smile. A smile that is thinking of terrible things. He reaches down with both meaty hands and I kick as hard as I can between his legs. He screams and falls to his knees.

  And I’m running. Even if my knee is broken, I’m running on it. He is swearing and screaming horrible things he’s going to do to me. I can’t even bear to hear them. But I’m dodging through trees, looking for Fifth Avenue somewhere. It has to be somewhere.

  Suddenly, I see the cow tunnel. It’s where the farmer used to bring his cows safely under the train tracks. I’ve taken this train. Dad and I took it yesterday to New York and back. We must have passed over this tunnel.

  Instead of going through the tunnel, I climb up onto the tracks. And I sit down. And wait. I have an idea. When the train comes, it will go right through me. Because neither of us is real. I don’t know why I want that. Maybe it will make me feel safe.

  I feel the buzzing in the tracks. And it makes my heart jump in a good way. Almost like being alive. I stand up for the last time. Then I think, why would that be? I see the train now, but I’m still wondering why I think this will be the end if it’s going to go through me.

  Then I realize. When that happe
ns, Maggie won’t be able to pretend anymore. She’ll know she’s real. Game over. And no more goodbyes. No more last times. And no first time. No first time with him.

  And now the train is blaring its horn and coming so impossibly fast. Here it comes.

  But I can’t let it hit me. I step off the tracks and remember to run so the rush of air doesn’t suck me under the wheels. I feel the blast of air and I slip and roll on the grass. I guess I don’t want Maggie to wake up yet. Miles to go before I sleep. Maggie thinks that poem, all of Frost really, is obvious and dumb. I think it’s obvious and smart.

  I’m something of a mess when I get to Gordy’s. He seems really glad to see me, which makes me happy and sad. It’s nice that our last time together won’t be awkward, like when Sloane took that picture at lunch. When I took that picture at lunch.

  He isn’t expecting me. I never knock at his house, just let myself in. He’s out back, reading The Three Musketeers. I sit in the chair next to him and he reaches over and pulls a twig from my hair. I close my eyes and let the sun warm my lids.

  “Are you okay?” he asks. I can feel him looking at me. I smile convincingly.

  “Just really tired,” I tell him. Which is true.

  “Want to take Tiller for a walk?” Gordy asks. I feel Tiller’s wet nose lift my hand up, encouraging me to scratch behind his ears. I open my eyes.

  Tiller is old. He’s a black Lab. His chin is gray now. I worry about his arthritis.

  “Sure,” I say. And Gordy smiles that same smile he’s had since he was three years old. I love that smile.

  As we walk along Mumford’s Cove, he asks what’s up. I tell him I’ve really missed him. I tell him it’s really important that we’re okay. He reaches one long arm and sort of hugs me as we walk. Which is the best answer.

  “I had a dream about Bill last night.” He says that, not me. Even though Sloane did too.

  “What happened?” I ask.

  “You guys were hanging out and you wouldn’t tell me where you were going.”

  “That doesn’t sound very friendly,” I say.

  “Well,” he says, “you guys always had your own thing. I think the dream means I was missing both of you. As if you were gone too, the way he is.”

  I am gone, of course. Just not the way Bill is.

  Actually, I’m not gone at all. It’s Sloane that’s gone. And as he talks and smiles and looks so relieved that the awkwardness is gone and they can go back to being best friends, I start to wonder. I understand why I created Sloane. And James. And girlfriends and, of course, a family. But why Gordy? This guy who she mistreats and lies to. I’ve just made him her dog to kick.

  Maybe I should have her tell him about Bill. No. It would kill him.

  We come to the flood wall, and after lifting Tiller over the wall, Gordy takes my hand to help me climb up. Just like he’s done since we were five years old. His hand feels warm and innocent. I start to cry. He sees. And bless his heart, he doesn’t ask what’s wrong. He circles his arms around me and kisses the top of my head. And we just rock back and forth a little.

  Who does Maggie think she is? To talk like that about him. What does she know about anything? He is so decent and she is so screwed up. Just because she’s real and I’m the dream doesn’t give her the right to do that. I hate her. I really hate her.

  We get back to Gordy’s and he heads for the house, but I hold back on the walkway.

  “I’ve got to go,” I tell him. He’s halfway through the door, almost gone.

  “Let me drive you,” he says, standing there in the doorway.

  “I feel like walking.” I shrug. He skips down the stairs and holds his hand up. I interlace my fingers in his and pull him into a hug, nuzzle my face into his chest, and pull away.

  “Bye, Gordy,” I say, looking right at him, hoping to sear this image into my brain, to tuck it into some pocket so it can stow away to wherever I’m going. His handsome face, his kind smile, his sparkling eyes, the years and the memories between us. I want to take them with me.

  “Thanks for coming by,” he says. I start down the road. “See you on the other side,” he calls coincidentally as he heads back into the house.

  I walk home on Groton Long Point Road. As I pass Esker Point, I see my mom’s friend Hillary rowing her dingy out by Mouse Island. It looks like she’s collecting mussels. At Marsh Road, I turn right.

  Somehow, I’m lost. It’s as if I’ve never seen this part of Tribeca. If I turn left, it should bring me back to the West Village, I think. It seems dangerous here. Dark alleys, tough-looking kids sitting on a stoop. One calls out as I walk by. Don’t look at him. Nicole says never make eye contact. I walk faster.

  Oh. Up there, I see Macauley enter some local bar. That’s probably why I’m here, meeting him about the show. I start to run, but it takes strangely long to cover the distance. But I guess dreams are like that. I could probably fly if I put my mind to it. Concentrate. You don’t want Macauley to think you’re on something. This may be your last chance.

  I enter the dark bar. Macauley’s at the bar. I sit down on the stool next to him. I smile my prettiest smile. It’s not flirting, exactly, but it’s the way actresses establish rapport with directors.

  “What are you drinking?” I ask. He looks at me with great surprise.

  “You can’t be in here. You’re underage.”

  “Oh, no one’s carded me in the city in two years.”

  He stares for an odd beat. “Sloane, are you okay?”

  I want to say neither. I am not Sloane and I am not okay. But what I say is, “Sure.”

  “Um, does Michael know that you’re in a bar on Saturday afternoon? Because I feel I really ought to call him. I don’t want to get you in trouble with your folks. Maybe you should just go home, huh? You sure you’re okay?”

  It’s a test. An audition of some sort. He wants me to play Sloane, which of course is my favorite role. “Totally,” I say, “I just came in here to use the bathroom and saw you. And just wanted to say hi.”

  I head toward the restrooms. That wasn’t Macauley at all. It may have been the guy with the hooker. Sometimes they can make themselves look different. Actresses know that. I find an exit to the alley and slip out the door.

  I jog down to what should be West Broadway, I think. I head uptown. A car pulls over. A woman leans to open the passenger door.

  “There you are,” she says. “I’ve been trying to track you down.”

  I know her. She’s the one who came into my bedroom that night to talk about my curfew. I don’t have a curfew. She’s the one who plays Sloane’s mom. Is Sloane’s mom. She’s actually very nice, even though Sloane has hated her for a year. Not hated her, blamed her.

  But I like her. So I get in the car.

  “Gordy said you were walking home, so I thought I’d give you a lift. It looks like it’s going to rain soon. I picked up a meatball grinder for you at the Mystic Market. Are you hungry?”

  If I try to eat anything, I’ll throw up. But it’s so sweet of my mom to do that, I nod eagerly and gratefully. She smiles and holds my hand. She’s much better at hiding her terror than my dad is. Maggie could take acting tips from my mom.

  We get home and she’s unpacking our lunch. I go to the bookshelf and pull down the white album—as in wedding, not the Beatles. It’s very old and yellowing a bit. It’s very precious. I open the cover carefully and she comes to look over my shoulder. Together, we turn the pages of her wedding pictures. We’ve been doing this together since I was three. But it’s been over a year since the last time, which is why she seems so happy we’re doing it again.

  “Tell me,” I say, “what it’s going to be like when we have my wedding.”

  I probably haven’t said it just that way since I was little, and now there are big tears in her eyes.

  She runs her fingers gently across my scalp and starts to play with my hair. “We’ll put your hair up to show off your face and your sweet earlobes. You can wear Grandma’s diamond cl
ip-ons.”

  “You’re going too fast. Start at the beginning.”

  “Okay. It will take us, oh, at least a couple months to pick out everything together. The places for the rehearsal dinner and the reception. The menus, the music, the flowers, the cake. All that good stuff.”

  “The invitations. Don’t forget the invitations.”

  “And most of all, your dress. That’s where the real work is. We’ll probably go to New York.”

  “Just for ideas. It’s pretty expensive there.”

  “Well, the idea is you’re only doing this once, so we won’t worry quite so much about that.”

  She hugs me and kisses me. I’m so glad I thought to do this before Maggie takes me away.

  We have lunch together, and I make myself laugh and eat the whole sandwich. And everything is perfect. Like it used to be.

  “You know,” I say, “someday I may be far away. But I’ll always remember everything about you. Because you’re just the best mom.”

  She gets a little teary again. “You won’t ever be that far away. There are airplanes, you know. And that Skype thing.”

  “Sure,” I lie. And even though I know she can’t be real, I know she’s real to me. And I know in this moment that I don’t want Maggie to take her away from me. I don’t know how, but I’ll fight for her. I’m not ready to give her up. Not ever.

  And then. I suddenly know. I know why all this is happening. And I know how to stop it. I know how to stop Maggie. How to stop her from taking me away.

  I stand in the shower. I need to be with him. Sleep with him. I want to be with him more than anything I’ve ever wanted. I wonder about it all the time. What it will feel like. I won’t be confused or sad about it being the only time. I’ll make it perfect; I know I will. It will make up for a lifetime of times.

  But more important, it will make it okay when I tell him goodbye. It will make him understand that I don’t blame him or hate him, even though it’s all his fault. Even though he’s made everything happen. He didn’t know. It isn’t anyone’s fault.

  Biking to his house at dusk, I see no cars and I can ride down the hill with my arms stretched out like wings. No hands. Maggie can’t do this down Park Avenue. I’ve spent my whole life loving this town. The coolness of the shady woods, the sound of the crickets, the painted sky reflected in the stillness of the cove. It all whizzes by. And I am so grateful in this moment to Maggie for choosing it. After a year of sadness, I’m starting to remember why I love my life.