The Girl In Between series: Books 1-4

by Laekan Zea Kemp

  Her fingers bounced off her keyboard as her eyes scanned the screen. “I’m sorry.” She shook her head. “Not on this floor.”

  “Are you sure?”

  She checked again, nodded.

  “That’s...” I looked back at Dani, my throat dry. “Do you know if he may have been moved recently?”

  “Not sure. I don’t see him in any of my records. Maybe he’s been released.”

  I shook my head. “No.” But then I remembered the article I’d read. The headline: Local teen spends eighteenth birthday in coma. “Wait. Is there any way to check if he’s in another part of the hospital? Maybe he was moved to the adult wing.”

  “You’ll have to go downstairs for that. Adult wing is two buildings down, just past the first parking garage. Depending on the injury he could be in another building.”

  As we made our way to the adult wing I tried not to think about the other possibility. That Roman had been here, only we were too late. When we got to the adult wing, a nurse with frizzy hair sent us in the opposite direction. We finally entered a quiet glass building through massive sliding doors and six floors later the smell of fresh paint swirled into the elevator. When the doors opened we were swallowed into the hum of EKG machines, defibrillators, and heart monitors. We walked down the hallway, steps muted on the pink carpet as we made our way to the front desk.

  “Hello,” I said. “I’m looking for a patient who may be on this floor.”

  The nurse smiled. “What’s the name?”

  “Davide Roman Santillo.”

  She didn’t even look at her computer screen. “Last room at the end of the hall.”

  Most of the doors were closed, clipboards hanging in a clear plastic tray on the outside. We reached the end of the hall and I saw a sliver of his bed from between the door. I leaned against the window. It was cold.

  “Bryn?” Dani reached for me.

  I watched the cars down on the street. They looked like little matchboxes, the people spilling out of them like ants. I watched them moving around on these invisible tracks and from that high up they looked planted there on purpose. I wanted to feel that too. Like I was doing the right thing.

  This is not a coincidence.

  I stepped to the door, eyes on the tile as I pushed it open. I reached back for Dani’s hand but I grabbed Felix’s instead. He squeezed, let go, and then I stepped inside.

  I tried to absorb him in pieces, starting with the blanket rising over his feet and sinking between his legs. It dimpled over his knees, cream-colored sheets folded at his waist. I examined the tiny blue squares on his gown, the sleeves lying limp against his arm, strings untied behind his neck, the faint impression of where they’d once been still pressed into his skin. I inhaled and it sounded like a sob. Felt like one too. I inhaled again, quiet this time, and then I looked.

  His eyes were trapped under bruised lids, his skin dry and translucent. His mouth was a thin line, crooked on one side, and sinking into hollow cheeks. The shadows of bruises were still fading from his pale skin. He looked like he’d been carved from himself by jagged tools, an unsteady hand giving him angles where there should have been curves; the silhouette of bone where there should have been flesh.

  “Roman.” I wanted to touch him but there was no soft place for my hands. “I’m here.”

  I pressed a hand down on the mattress, trying to be more than just a voice. I let it crawl closer. I let my finger trail down the side of his hospital gown.

  “Roman. I found you.”

  I heard the door slide open and then I was looking at the man from the film. Roman’s father. They had the same wide eyes and the same black hair but as he stood over Roman’s bed he looked like a giant. Roman was just a sliver of his dad then, like that child we’d watched flung into the air, large hands resting on his small head.

  “Hello…” His dad’s voice trailed off, questioning.

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “I didn’t know anyone was here. The nurse—”

  “Are you a friend of Roman’s?” he asked.

  “Yes.” I turned back to the bed, to Roman’s hands resting flat at his sides. “I would have come sooner. I had trouble finding him.”

  “It’s a big hospital.”

  We both grew quiet. I could hear Felix and Dani in the hallway, all sighs and whispers.

  I turned back to Roman. “How is he doing?”

  Roman’s father sunk down in the small chair at the foot of the bed, hips barely clearing the armrests. He looked uncomfortable but I couldn’t tell if it was because of the cramped space or my question. Or maybe me. He hiked one leg onto his knee, gripped his calf. I saw his jaw grow tense and I waited for words but then he just shook his head.

  I leaned against the window, waiting for him to tell me to leave. But he didn’t. He just sat there too, both of us staring at Roman, trying to will him awake. I wondered how long Roman’s father had been sitting in that same chair, waiting for Roman to wake up. Six months. That’s how long it had been since he’d first washed up on shore. Six months is a long time and it made me wonder how long I would wait.

  We didn’t have a lot of time. Graduation was next weekend. And Germany. Finding a cure was worth one summer of my life. But was it worth one summer of Roman’s?

  I watched his father’s face in the corner of my eye. He looked tired. Empty. I’d seen that look before, those familiar dark circles. My mom had been wearing them for years. And now, looking at this man who was a stranger, this man who loved Roman as much as I did, I felt just as helpless. Because it was true. No one ever wants a lifetime worth of waiting. You don’t choose that life. You tolerate it. You endure. When you know what it is you’re waiting for, you endure.

  When visiting hours were over we piled back into Dani’s car, just idling there at the top of the parking garage.

  “What now?” Dani asked.

  “I don’t know.”

  “It’s a long drive back,” Felix said. “I’m sure your moms are worried.”

  I had eighteen missed calls from my mom, ten voice messages—each one an octave higher than the last. I knew if I called her now she’d be pissed. But I knew if I didn’t she’d be even more pissed. I dialed her number and she picked up on the second ring.

  “What the hell, Bryn?”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “No you’re not, but you will be. You better be on your way home this second. I don’t care if you kids have to drive all night. Get your asses back here now.”

  “Not yet.”

  “What do you mean not yet?”

  “I mean I’ll call you in the morning. Look, I’m fine. We’re fine. I’ll be home soon.”

  “Soon. When exactly is soon?”

  “I’ll be home soon,” I said again. “There’s just something I have to do first.”

  “Bryn, if you—“

  “Bye mom.”

  I hung up on her mid-sentence. I just couldn’t think with her yelling in my ear, with Dani asking what now, with Roman lying in that hospital bed. Still. After everything we’d been through. After I finally found him.

  I don’t know what I’d expected. That he’d hear my voice, that he’d feel me somehow. That that would be enough to wake him up. That I would be enough. But I wasn’t. I’d sat there all day listening to him breathe and it was all either of us could do. All his father had been able to do for six months.

  I sunk against the seat trying not to think about his face. It was seared there over every crooked smile and almost laugh, over his eyes pouring into mine, teeth kneading his bottom lip. I tried to remember him the way he was. The way he would be. But all I could think about was him lying in the sand and how he’d looked more dead in that hospital bed than the corpse I’d found six months earlier. The corpse I’d brought back to life.

  I sat up. “We have to go back.”

  “We haven’t slept,” Dani said. “Maybe we should rest for a little while before we try to drive back.”

  “Yeah,” Felix said. “I ca
n get us a hotel room.”

  “No. Not home,” I said. “Back inside. I need to go back.”

  “Bryn—”

  “Just…for a minute. I just, I want to be alone with him for a minute before we go.”

  “But visiting hours are over,” Dani said.

  “Then we sneak in,” Felix said. “Use a service elevator or something. Dani and I will create a distraction while you slip inside his room.”

  Dani shot him a look. “And if a nurse comes? What if someone sees us?”

  “Then I’ll go alone,” I said. “But I’m going.”

  “No,” Felix said. “We’ll all go. We’ll help.”

  We found the service stairs and slipped through the heavy door when no one was looking. We scaled them as quietly as we could but even the lightest step echoed along the concrete space. We heard other footsteps and froze. A door slammed shut, taking the sound with it, and we kept going. After six flights I peered through the small window onto Roman’s floor. The lights were dimmed, the nurses’ station casting a putrid glow over the elevators.

  We watched a few nurses disappearing into rooms, quietly making their way out, still making their rounds. We spent half an hour tensing at every footstep and slamming door, waiting for a lull.

  “What now?” Dani asked.

  The nurses were starting to congregate behind the desk, slipping out of view behind a wall.

  “Think there’s a break room or something back there?” Felix asked.

  “Maybe.” I eyed the desk. It was tall and wide. If I crouched down low I thought maybe I could slip by without them seeing me.

  “Okay,” Felix whispered. “Dani and I will walk to the front desk. You crouch down and follow close behind us. Hopefully they won’t see you. We’ll distract them while you make it down the hall to his room.”

  “Okay,” I said. “Let’s do it.”

  I examined the distance from the front desk to the window at the far end of the floor. The space seemed to narrow, overhead lights stretching on forever.

  Felix pushed open the door and I followed them out on bent knees. They hooked arms, Dani holding out her jacket a bit to help hide me from view. They made it to the nurses’ desk and I crouched there, trying to find an open doorway.

  “I’m sorry,” a voice said, “visiting hours were over at eight.”

  Felix sighed. “Dani, I told you it would be too late to come by.”

  “Well, I could have sworn he told me visiting hours lasted until nine.”

  “Just like you could have sworn it was the first building on the third floor. You know we’ve been walking around this hospital for almost an hour. We got lost twice…”

  I made a break for it, cutting into an open room. There was a nurse scribbling on one of those plastic clipboards and I slipped back out. I saw someone coming down the hall and I ducked into another room, pushing the door open with a loud click. It was empty except for the person lying unconscious in the bed next to the window.

  I peered through the crack in the door. It was quiet. When I didn’t see anyone I leaned out, looking back toward the nurses’ station. Felix and Dani were still arguing, backs at an angle. I took off down the hall, taking long strides. I heard another door click open, a nurse stepping out into the hall. But I was so close.

  I ran for it, slamming into Roman’s door with a thud. I waited for the sound to travel, for someone to find me there. I hid in the bathroom behind the shower curtain. There were footsteps. The door pushed open. I heard sneakers squeaking on the linoleum floor and then a pen scratching on a piece of paper. The door closed again, the clipboard clanking, and then it was quiet.

  I eased back out into the room. It was dark, curtains pulled closed, one thin strand of light carving across the floor. But I was relieved. The night eased things. I moved to the bed and suddenly Roman’s face looked softer and behind moist eyes he almost looked whole again. I let the tears hang there, growing heavy. I wanted to touch him, to feel him in this world, even if they were only pieces. I wanted to feel him. So I did.

  I leaned over him, still watching the door, and then I reached for his hand. It was cold and stiff, the skin between his fingers dry. I tried not to concentrate on the bones poking out from beneath his knuckles, on the harsh slant of his palm as it rested in mine. I let myself sink against the mattress, careful, quiet. I sat there, looking at him, holding his hand until my insides couldn’t take it anymore.

  “Wake up,” I whispered. I squeezed his hand. “Please. Roman.” I rested my head on his chest. It was hard and hollow and it made me feel cold. I tried to remember what it had felt like that night in the clearing, what it had felt like kissing him under that Dogwood tree. “Please wake up.” I looked up at him but he was still. So painfully still. “Wake up. Roman. This is not a coincidence.” My fingers curled around his small shoulders and I leaned in closer, every thin exhale brushing my lips. “This is not a coincidence. Please, Roman. Please.”

  I sunk there against his lips, my tears spilling onto his face. I opened my eyes, watching them peel down his cheeks. I didn’t want to move. I didn’t want to let go of him. But I did. I let go of him and then I felt the air pour from my lungs. I felt him inhale. His lips brushed mine again and then he blinked.

  Part II

  The Boy In Her Dreams

  1

  Roman

  First there was her voice, a stray thin thing I couldn't hold on to. I could feel it, the air passing between our lips, her breath on my face. Then I felt those lips. Soft. Shaking. They pleaded but when I opened my eyes, in those first flashes, lashes ripping free, irises burning, all I could see were the flames.

  Pain.

  That's what I remembered. It pinned me to the bed, a dull ache that started in my fingertips and then it raged, filling me up, burning me from the inside out. There were other hands holding me down, gripping me hard. Faces blinking in and out. Strangers, all of them, except for Bryn.

  She was standing in the corner, small and breathless and afraid. She looked at me, reached for me, but they pushed her out of the way. I watched her lips move, my name hanging on them. But above the whirr of the machines, the scuff of shoes on the linoleum floor—the chaos the two of us had somehow set in motion—it wasn't her voice I heard. It was mine.

  I couldn’t remember when I stopped screaming but the second I opened my eyes again, I remembered why I’d started. I gritted my teeth but the tears came anyway. There were needles in my arm, tubes in my nose. I tried to tear free but someone grabbed me, holding me down again.

  "You're okay," she said.

  No. No.

  "Hold still."

  A new burning started in my chest but as it spread, it dulled. It settled warm against my insides, tugging my eyes closed again.

  I rolled, groggy, and when I examined the room it was night. The moon shone through the flesh of the curtain and streetlights pooled against my window, spilling across my dad's shoes. My dad. The room was empty now except for him. When he saw me he stepped out of the shadows, hands fumbling as he tried to switch on the lamp. The light flickered and I winced.

  "Sorry," he said, turning it back off. "Better?"

  Yes. I tried to open my mouth, to say something. Dad? Dad.

  He reached for me. "It's okay."

  No.

  "You're okay."

  Why does everyone keep saying that?

  "You're in the hospital. You were...in an accident. Do you understand?"

  I tried to nod but every inch of me was heavy like I was trapped in a slab of concrete.

  "Do you...do you remember?" he asked.

  He was so close to me then. So close that I could see the shadows under his eyes, irises red and strained. He looked so tired. He looked afraid, and because I was too, I shook my head. He exhaled, relieved.

  "Get some rest," he said. "I'll be right here if you need me."

  He reached for my hand, squeezed it, and in that second I didn't feel so numb.

  2

&n
bsp; Bryn

  I lingered outside the door, trying not to think about the moment he’d opened his eyes. I tried to tell myself it was the pain, that sleep had made them darker, that he was weak. He was afraid. He was hurting. But there was something else. In that silent pause right after I'd let go of him, right after our lips touched and he'd looked at me, churning there with the fear and the pain there was…regret.

  I tried to shake it off, to force myself to step inside. We are not a coincidence.

  "He's sleeping." Roman's father rose from his chair by the bed, nodded to the empty seat.

  "Long?" I asked, not ready to sit.

  "Off and on."

  "Has he said—?"

  Roman's father shook his head. "Not yet."

  It had been twelve hours since Roman had first opened his eyes and since then he'd done nothing but close them again. Sleeping. Not saying a word.

  I wasn’t sure what I'd expected. That he'd see me and things would be...different? All this time I’d imagined the Roman I knew waiting for me in this hospital room. His broad shoulders, his calloused hands, his wide brown eyes. He used to tower over me, his chin tucked against my crown, his dark skin like shifting sand depending on the light. But this boy, he was just that. He looked small and frail and broken. I knew that I needed to be strong, that he would need me to be, but looking at him, at the scars, the bruises, the bones, I felt just as small.

  "You're a friend of his," Roman’s father suddenly said.

  This was the first time he and I had been alone together since Roman had woken up and the lilt in his voice anticipated some kind of explanation. So I gave him one, well, the explanation Felix came up with anyway.

  "We met at a concert."

  I thought he'd ask me where I'd been; why I decided to show up out of the blue just in time for his son to miraculously wake from a six-month-long coma. I thought he'd ask why me? Why had he woken up for me and not his father who'd been waiting at his bedside for months? I thought he'd be angry.