by Ellen Smith
“I thought I was going to see the Student Union,” Will said. “I thought I’d be back. I thought I’d see Mara . . .” The first Mara he’d ever seen. The Mara that was bleeding and dipping out of consciousness, collapsed on the floor. His heart raced.
“How would you describe your anxiety level right now?”
“Bad,” Will said. “I feel . . . I don’t want to see this.”
“Okay. Good. That’s honest. Now, let’s talk about what it is that you’re going to see. You’re going to the Student Union. You’re checking your mailbox. Maybe there’ll be a letter from home, right? Maybe some flyers or a postcard from a friend? Then a boy you don’t know walks up behind you, and he checks his mailbox. He’s upset, and maybe you reach out to him—or maybe you don’t,” Dr. Hendrix said quickly. “Then you go your separate ways, and you go on with your evening. How does that sound? Is that something you can do?”
“That sounds fine.” Will swallowed. He couldn’t stand to meet Dr. Hendrix’s eyes. Sweat gathered on his neck, threatening to drip down his shirt.
“That’s all you’re going to see. A normal day for a freshman in college.”
The sound of Dr. Hendrix’s voice was ringing in his ears, and Will felt warm all over. Too late. Will pulled off the goggles and sat forward, leaning his head against his knees until the dizziness passed.
“Sorry about that,” Will said when he was able to sit back up.
“Nothing to be sorry about,” Dr. Hendrix said. “You’re doing just fine.”
Will wiped more sweat off his forehead. “Really? I don’t feel fine.” He reached for a tissue, which Dr. Hendrix passed to him without comment. “What if I can’t do this?”
“Nonsense,” Dr. Hendrix said.
“No, but really.” Will swallowed. “What if it gets to the day of the time wreck and I just . . . can’t? What if I panic?”
“You won’t,” Dr. Hendrix said. “I won’t allow the timeline rectification to take place until I’m confident that each participant is ready. If you’re not ready, we’ll keep practicing.”
Will swallowed hard. The idea of practicing this scenario over and over again wasn’t terribly comforting.
“What I perceive as your primary issue,” Dr. Hendrix continued, “is a lack of trust. You don’t fully trust Jason to rectify his actions and you don’t fully trust yourself to control your reactions. At some point, you need to look at what happened in the past, with the shooting and recently with your reaction, and accept it for what it was. Then you need to ask yourself, do you trust that that won’t happen this time?”
Trust. There was a word Will was starting to hate. He had to trust Dr. Hendrix. Trust Nayana and Traci. Trust the justice system. Trust Jason.
Trust himself.
“Will?” Dr. Hendrix repeated the question. “Do you trust that that won’t happen this time?”
“Yes.” No.
Will put the virtual reality glasses back on anyway.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
MARA
Mara rubbed her temples at the end of the day. “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to that,” she said, putting her virtual reality glasses back in the tray. Nayana quickly picked them up and wiped them down with an alcohol wipe.
The others were already filing out. Was it her imagination, or was Jason walking a little faster now? More purposefully, as if he were going somewhere important instead of being transported back to his cell for the night. He finally saw hope for his future, Mara thought ironically.
“Every time we do that, I feel a little surprised when I take the glasses off and find myself back here. I mean, I know while I’m doing it that it’s a simulation, but it’s so realistic that I kind of get wrapped up in it,” Will said.
Something he’d said made Dr. Hendrix nod to himself, looking pleased. Well, why shouldn’t he be? Mara had her own doubts about whether Will could handle the simulations after the first disastrous attempt. She wasn’t sure what kind of psychiatrist voodoo Dr. Hendrix had been doing in his private sessions with Will, but it was working.
It wasn’t just in the simulations, either. Will had slept through the night every night since they’d started working with the virtual reality glasses. He’d stopped glancing behind him and freezing up whenever he heard footsteps coming. It was so nice to finally see Will so relaxed.
I never knew him like this before. She and Will held hands on the way out to the van. He’s had PTSD as long as I’ve known him. Sometimes it had been better, sometimes worse, but it had always been there.
Ken slid the van door closed and nodded to the driver to start. Mara looked out at the long stretches of countryside rolling past their windows. They were taking a different route back to the motel, she noticed. Not obviously different—every farm looked about the same, at least to Mara. But they were going the other direction on the highway, then down a gravel road.
“Does the government not pay for shock absorbers?” Will asked as the van bumped and jostled down the gravel road. Mara swore she could hear rocks spinning off the wheels.
“The usual route is blocked,” Ken said. “Sorry. Try to enjoy the scenery.”
“I’d enjoy it more if my teeth weren’t rattling,” Will said, but he was grinning. Everything about him seemed buoyant lately. This must be what he was like before college. Everyone in Will’s hometown had always called him easygoing. Relaxed. Chill.
No wonder his old friends—and even his brother and sister, to an extent—had always complained that Will had changed after college. It wasn’t college that had changed him. Not really.
“Penny for your thoughts?” Will said. “You’ve been so quiet.”
“I’m not thinking anything, really.” Mara forced a smile. And thinking how much better your life would have been if you’d never met me.
Lucky Will.
* * * * *
Watching Déjà Deirdre had become a regular ritual for Mara and Will. Since they’d been moved to the motel, it had been hard to keep track of what day it was. Mara had to stop and count to realize it had been twelve days since the trial, including weekends. Without their phones or computers, they were blissfully distant from every part of their old lives. No Facebook updates. No text blasts. Just her and her husband, alone for as much time as they had left together.
The cable on the motel TV was consistent, though. At eight o’clock, the reality TV channel played either Engaged or Enraged or Déjà Deirdre depending on the day. Today was a long string of Deirdre Collins episodes back-to-back, starting from the beginning of the season and going straight through to the newest.
“I think the finale is tomorrow,” Mara said.
“Think she’ll come to terms with her identity by then?” Will asked.
“Depends on if she got signed for another season.”
“Ouch,” Will said. The theme song started and he hummed along.
Mara vaguely remembered the episode from last night, when Deirdre went to a speed-dating dinner. “I didn’t realize people still did those,” Mara said.
“That’s what you said last night too.”
“Ah. Painkillers.”
“I’m impressed you remember last night’s show at all. I wasn’t sure you were awake while it was playing.”
“Off and on. I remember Deirdre kissing some guy with a full tattoo sleeve. Didn’t seem like her type.”
“That’s what she was trying to find out.” Will raised his eyebrows and spoke in a falsetto. It was a frighteningly good imitation of Deirdre Collins. “‘If I’ve been through this life before, I might have already met my soul mate. Tonight I’m gonna find him!’”
I don’t want that to be me.
“Mara? You got all quiet again.”
With her good arm, she pulled Will to her and kissed him, hard. He seemed surprised for a minute before enthusiastically kissing back.
If they could change their next life map by rehearsing their should’ve-bee
n moments, then surely their love would carry over too. Even if she and Will didn’t see each other that night, they would have to lay eyes on each other at some point. Four years. Same university. They would cross paths eventually.
Mara pulled him down on the bed, ignoring the stinging pain that shot through her arm. Some things were worth the pain. And some people were worth everything.
Will ran his hands over her body, slowly, as if he were trying to memorize everything about her.
He did know everything about her. Everything.
How could she stand to let this man go?
She didn’t have to let him go. Not yet. And she was going to love him right up until the end.
* * * * *
The knocking on the door was sharp, commanding. Mara jolted awake at the same moment that Will flew out of the bed. She could hear him pulling on his jeans and a shirt, stopping to fasten his belt buckle before he tiptoed, almost silently, to the door.
It was late. Mara squinted at the radio clock on the nightstand. Almost midnight.
Who could be knocking on the door at this hour?
Maybe this was how the time wreck happened. Nayana had made it sound so orderly. “It will be just like the virtual reality simulations, actually. You’ll take the van here in the morning and we’ll proceed as usual. True, you’ll have an injection before putting the virtual reality glasses on, but otherwise you may not even realize it’s happening.” As if they could just pretend so hard that their rehearsed life became reality.
“Who is it?” Mara asked, sitting up in bed. Her shoulder was throbbing and she shivered as the air conditioning hit her bare skin. Will was at the door, hunched over so he could squint through the peephole.
He straightened up and came back to the bed before he answered. “Get dressed,” he said. “It’s your dad.”
“My dad?” Mara pulled on her T-shirt and shorts, cringing as she eased her right arm through the sleeve. She tripped in the dark and barely caught herself on the end of the bed. Her shoulder seized again.
“You okay?”
“Can you get the light?” she asked. “Wait. Don’t. We should call Ken and have him talk to Dad.” Mara found the duffel bag that sat open on the room’s other bed and found her bathrobe. She wrapped it around her and cinched the belt tight.
“Are you sure?” Will asked.
Mara stumbled over to the nightstand and picked the phone up out of the cradle. There was the dial tone. Good. Now what number were we supposed to call for Ken?
There was another knock on the door. “Mara,” came her father’s voice. “I know you’re there. Open the door, please.”
It was the please that made Mara hang up the phone. Did he sound . . . worried? And he was here, in the middle of nowhere, looking for her. When was the last time her father had been concerned enough to do that?
She looked at Will, trying to read the contours of his face in the dark. He shrugged.
“Maybe something’s happened,” Will whispered. “Maybe we should talk to him.”
“Please, Mara,” her father said through the door. “Open the door.”
Why hadn’t Ken heard him out in the hall? Unless Ken wasn’t there after all. Mara nodded once at Will, and he turned on the light.
She checked the peephole too, just to be sure. The concave lens made her father look shorter than usual. His bald spot looked shiny in the reflected light of the hallway.
Mara slid open the chain, then the latch, then the lock on the doorknob. “Dad?” she asked, suddenly conscious of how childish she sounded.
“Mara. Thank goodness you’re safe.” He stepped into the room and closed the door behind him. Hugging him felt awkward. His cologne was still overpowering, the arc of his arms more formidable than comforting. The congressman stepped back and nodded at Will, as if he was acknowledging a constituent.
“Don’t worry,” Congressman Gaines said. “I’ve come to take you somewhere safe.”
“Back home?” Mara asked, trying to force her foggy brain to focus on what he was saying. Why wasn’t the motel safe? And where was Ken?
“No, not home,” her father said. “Not for a long time. We found a place for you with some of my mother’s family. You might have met them back when you were a teenager. Do you remember Ida and Eileen?”
Mara searched her memory for their names and came up blank. “Who are they?”
“Your second cousins. They’ll be able to house you away from the public eye until things die down a bit.” He patted Mara’s good shoulder. “I know how easy it is to get swept up in these things. You’re just lucky I could track you down. Don’t worry. Your mother and I have everything under control. We’ve made the arrangements and handled the press already.”
“What’s going on? Why do we need to leave here?” Will asked.
Congressman Gaines answered his questions as if Mara had asked them. “Obviously with the media attention surrounding your time wreck, there’s been a big outcry from the public. I trust the people in charge of this . . . rectification”—he said the word as if it faintly disgusted him—“have sheltered you from most of it?”
“We’ve seen the news,” Will said.
“What’s on TV doesn’t cover half of it. Do you have your phones or computers? No, of course you don’t.” The congressman answered his own question. “Will, when your brother came forward and said he hadn’t been able to locate you, it put a lot of things into motion. The combination of the general distaste for rectifications and your family’s religious objections in addition to my position in the government—well, a lot of people have been trying to find you two. These things are much safer when the participants are anonymous. Once people can attach a face or a name to an issue, it makes things personal to them. This storm has been brewing for a long time and once you went public about your involvement . . .” Congressman Gaines waved an arm, apparently to indicate that riots were inevitable.
“What do you mean, they’ve been trying to find us?” Mara asked.
“You’re just lucky I was able to find you in time,” Congressman Gaines repeated.
Mara searched her father’s face for some shred of comfort. Some hint that he had come here to protect her, to rescue her, to save her and Will from handling all this alone.
She couldn’t read his face. She never could.
“What exactly are people saying?” Mara heard herself ask. “What’s really going on?”
“I have it handled. You just need to come with me.”
“No,” Mara said. “I need to know what’s happening.”
Her father huffed out a low sigh and reached for his phone. Mara reached for it, but he tugged it away, pinching and scrolling at the screen until he came to the page he was looking for.
“Here’s one example,” Congressman Gaines said. “I can help you. You’re in a mess right now, sure, but you’re not so far over your head that I can’t bail you out.”
Finally, he offered Mara the phone. She held it closer to Will so they could both read at the same time.
Online Event: Join the Search for Will and Mara Sterling
Date: May 12, 2011
Time: 10:00 a.m.
Location: Meet at Eastern Market metro station. After 10:00, we will begin dividing into teams and canvassing DC.
Message from the organizers: Earlier, Congressman Gaines (Mara’s father) made a statement that Will and Mara are safe with relatives. Congressman Gaines claims that Will and Mara are not missing, nor are they considering a timeline rectification. We know from the Sterling family (Will’s parents) that THIS IS NOT TRUE. Will and Mara ARE pursuing a time wreck, and if they aren’t in their home, then it is VERY LIKELY that they are already training to “rectify” the 2002 shooting.
Will and Mara were seen leaving their apartment on April 14, 2011 and some sources say they were seen entering a courthouse, although reports from eyewitnesses are conflicting. We do know that Will and Mara have NOT bee
n seen since then!
Chris Sterling reported his brother and sister-in-law missing on April 15, 2011. Despite this, NO ONE IS LOOKING FOR THEM! Since Congressman Gaines’s statement, Will and Mara are no longer reported on any Lost and Missing websites!
HELP US FIND WILL AND MARA STERLING!
125,067 people are planning to attend this event. Click here to register—free!
Chapter Thirty
WILL
“That’s tomorrow,” Will said. “I mean today.” It was after midnight, wasn’t it? In fewer than ten hours, over a hundred thousand people were planning to search for them.
“They probably won’t find us,” Mara said. Her voice rose as if she were asking a question. “They’re searching in DC. We’re way out in the boonies somewhere.”
“I was able to find you with a little effort,” Congressman Gaines said. “How much effort do you think thousands of people are willing to put forth to locate you? This is dangerous. You need to get out now. Gather your things and come with me.”
Mara wanted to go. Will could see it in her face as she looked up at her father. She didn’t believe that Congressman Gaines was telling the truth, not quite. Her father had obviously lied to the press when he said they were already with relatives. Was the congressman really trying to protect them? Did he really believe that timeline rectifications were wrong, or that they were in danger? Or was he still just trying to manage his family’s public image?
Either way, escaping from DC and the timeline rectification was tempting. Will put one arm around his wife. Hadn’t he daydreamed about this exact thing? They could run away from the time wreck, their old lives, everything. They could start all over again. He and Mara could face everything together, exactly the way it was meant to be.
Congressman Gaines cleared his throat. “I’ll give you two a moment,” he said. “But just a moment. We need to get moving. Gather your things, and I’ll take you. The car is on standby.”