The paramedics wheel my stretcher into the hospital, lights passing overhead. I hear shouts and a nurse running up. My chest is heaving, and I can ’t stop coughing.
“Hang in there, Kate. Just hang in.”
Inez paces her room. “This is crazy! Kate fighting for her life, me wanting to die, and those boys just getting off scot free.”
She throws a pill bottle across the room. “Screw it! Why should they get away with it? I ’m going to name them. Try to protect other girls from them. I can do this. I can.” Inez paces some more. “Kate tried to save me. I ’ll show her she was right to.”
She walks out to the kitchen to tell Nana.
You go, Inez!
A doctor is in my face, talking to me loudly. I am a fish out of water, gasping and unable to breathe.
Mason drives down the highway, looking over his shoulder. He turns off onto a dirt road and pulls up at a shack. He barricades the door from inside, then takes a shotgun down off the wall. Then he sits at a table, pointing the gun at the door, and turns the radio on to the news.
I’m dying. I can feel it. My lungs are shutting down. I focus on Mom and Dad, on their love for me, on Gil and Jenna, and Inez and Nana, too. “Help me, ” I tell them. For a breath, then another, I breathe easier. But it ’s too hard and I ’m too tired. I close my eyes.
When I open my eyes again, I ’m lying in a hospital bed in a small white room. There ’s a tube down my throat, a mask on my face, and a ventilator pumping oxygen regularly in and out of my lungs. A machine beeps annoyingly beside me. My chest aches fiercely, and I ’m so exhausted I want to cry. But I ’m still alive. I try to swallow and gag on the plastic tube.
They’ve intubated me. That isn ’t a good sign. I weakly turn my head and see Jenna sitting in a chair next to my bed. She leaps up and grabs my hand. Her nose and eyelids are red and swollen.
“I ’m so sorry, Kate, ” she whispers. “I didn ’t know he would do it. I swear I didn ’t.”
I make writing motions with my hand.
“Oh!” Jenna fumbles around in her purse, pulls out a small notepad and pen, then hands them to me. She pulls the tray table over for me so I can write.
“I know u didn ’t know. It ’s ok. Don ’t blame u. Where ’re Mom and Dad?”
“They ’re talking to the cops. You want me to get them?”
“No.”
Jenna looks down. “When Mason asked me about your asthma, at first I thought he was just being nice to me. Trying to understand why...” Her cheeks darken.
“Why u resented me? Because I got the attention.” I nudge the pad of paper toward her.
Jenna reads what I wrote, her shoulders slumping. “Yeah. It ’s stupid. I know you get really sick. That you could die. I know you needed Mom—”
“But u needed her 2, ” I scribble, fast. “I would have been jealous 2.”
“Why are you being so nice to me?” Jenna cries, throwing the pad of paper back down.
“You ’re my big sis. I love u.”
“I love you, too, ” Jenna says, tears in her eyes. “I don ’t know how I ’ll ever make this right, Mason trying to kill you—”
“Not your fault, ” I scribble. “Not yours to make right.”
Jenna shakes her head. “I knew he was the jealous type. Obsessive. Controlling...” Her voice trails off. “I ’m going to leave him, ” she says uncertainly.
“Wow! Good, ” I write. “U r strong and smart 2. He was hurting u.”
“Yeah. He was, ” Jenna says.
“U need 2 ditch yr phone. He was spying on u w/ it.”
Jenna gasps. “That ’s how he knew what we ’d talked about.”
“Yes. Just found out. Will u promise 2 get a new 1?”
“Yes! Right away.”
A nurse passes by outside in the hall, her shoes squeaking. My energy is starting to ebb. I grit my teeth, try to push through the exhaustion. I have to ask Jenna. But still, I hesitate, the pen in my hand. “R police looking 4 him?”
“Yes.”
I hesitate again. “Do u want to tell them where he is?”
Jenna wrinkles her nose. “I don ’t know where he is.”
I look at her, waiting for her to put it together. I don ’t want to push her away again.
“Oh. You know?”
I nod.
“Because of your...visions?”
I nod again.
“Mason said you knew I was coming. That you ’d seen exactly what I ’d say to him.” Jenna twirls the end of her hair, the way she used to do when she was anxious. “Okay. Tell me. I ’ll tell the police. It ’s the least I can do.”
“U sure?” I write.
Jenna squares her shoulders. “Yes. It will be a very small way I can help put this right.”
“U don ’t have anything 2 put right. But he ’s at shack in woods. His family?”
“Yes. I know where that is. I ’ll tell the police, ” Jenna says soberly.
“He has a gun. Tell them 2 b careful, ” I write.
“That sounds like Mason, ” Jenna says. She looks down at the polished linoleum floor. “When I found you, I thought you were dead. Your chest wasn ’t moving. You were limp. I—” Jenna bursts into tears.
I reach for her hand and squeeze it, the IV tugging at my skin. Jenna keeps crying.
“That was the worst moment of my life.” Jenna dries her cheek with her wrist. “I ’m sorry I was so mean to you. I was scared of Mason, at least when he hurt me—he can be a mean son-of-a-bitch—but afterwards he ’d always treat me like I was the most special person on earth. He ’d tell me it would never happen again. I wanted to believe him so badly.”
“Must have been so hard, ” I write.
“Yeah, ” Jenna says, tears filling her eyes again.
“Was Gil there?” I write. “When u came? I thought I heard u yell 2 him.”
Jenna half laughs, half cries. “Yes. He came pounding on the door, screaming your name. He said you called him.”
“Where is he?”
“In the waiting room, I think. He wanted to see you, but they only let family in when...when someone is as sick as you were.”
I can’t believe I triggered my asthma on purpose yesterday. I wanted Jenna to escape—her and her baby. But my life isn ’t something I should take a chance with. Gil ’s right; there are other ways to help.
“Still mad at me?” I write.
“For what, for god ’s sake?” Jenna asks, swatting my shoulder.
“For pushing u about Mason.”
“I needed to be pushed. You were right. Look what he did to you!” Jenna rubs her arms.
“And u, ” I write. “And he could have hurt the baby.”
Jenna looks at the pad for a long time, her finger pointing to the words. “Yes, ” she says finally. She keeps her gaze on me and slowly lifts up her shirt. Her ribs and stomach are covered in deep purple, brown, and yellow bruises. I shudder and she yanks her shirt back down.
“God! Jenna. U need 2 get a dr 2 check u, ” I write.
“I will. I promise. I feel like I can think again, without Mason around.” She rests her hand on her stomach. “I ’ll take care of the little one.” She looks at me and licks her lips. “You really can see things, can ’t you? The future, I mean? And the past?”
“Yes.”
“Wow, ” Jenna says. “And damn. That must be hard sometimes.” She shoulders her purse. “I ’ll let Dad and Mom know you ’re awake. And then I ’ll tell the police where Mason is.” She leans over and kisses my cheek. “It could have been me Mason tried to kill. It almost was.” Jenna chokes up.
She has no idea how close she came to actually being killed.
“Thank you for being such a great sister, ” she says.
Jenna hurries out of the room before I can tell her that I think she ’s a great sister, too.
FIFTEEN
I wake to the rumble of a trolley going by. Mom and Dad are both sitting beside my bed, their skin looking washed
out in the fluorescent light. The tube is still in my throat, the ventilator breathing for me with a loud, whooshing sound. I struggle to sit up more.
Mom jumps up and comes to my side. “You ’re going to be okay, honey, ” she says tearfully, stroking my head. “You ’re going to be just fine now.”
Dad comes over on my other side, and squeezes my shoulder. “You sure gave us a scare.”
I look for the pad of paper and pen. Mom pulls the table over, the pad and pen on top. “Mason tried to kill me, ” I write.
Mom reads the pad, then hands it to Dad. “I know, honey, ” she says in a choked voice. “But it ’s all over now. The police are out looking for him. And he ’s never going to hurt you again.”
“I ’ll kill him first, ” Dad says, gripping my hand so hard it hurts.
“I hate how weak I was, ” I write. “He didn ’t have to do much. Light a few cigarettes, spray some aerosol...”
“You are not weak, ” Mom says firmly. “You have asthma. We can ’t change that. Yes, your triggers make you vulnerable. But you survived. You knew to try to get away. You knew to use your inhaler. You did all the right things.”
“And you ’re the only one who saw Mason for who he really was, ” Dad says. “You had the courage to speak up when no one else believed you. You could have kept it all to yourself but you didn ’t. I ’m proud of you, Katie. We both are.”
“I ‘saw ’ what he did in my visions, ” I write.
Dad reads the pad, then hands it to Mom.
Mom nods. “Jenna told us—everything you said was true. She just didn ’t want to admit it. She said you even knew Mason was going to try to kill you.” Mom takes a deep breath. “I ’m sorry we didn ’t believe you. It ’s a lot to wrap our heads around—that you really can see the future. It just sounds so crazy.”
“But you believe me now?” I write.
“Yes, ” Mom says. She hands the pad to Dad. “This whole thing with Jenna convinced me. And ...” She breaks off, tears in her eyes. “I remember that girl with asthma that you said would die that day if they didn ’t intervene. You were right. And Kathy, my co-worker, who you said was going to get hit by a drunk driver. I thought you just had a good intuition and an active imagination. But there have been too many times that you were right.”
“We can only say we ’re sorry, and that we ’ll believe you from here on out, ” Dad says. “And anyone who doesn ’t can go to hell. But...it ’s probably not a good thing to mention to the doctors, Kate-girl. We don ’t want them trying to figure out what ’s wrong with you just because they don ’t believe it.”
“I know, ” I write. “I only tell people when I have to.”
“You ’re a smart one, ” Dad says, squeezing my hand. “You always were.”
After all these years of wanting Mom and Dad to believe me, needing them to, it feels surreal that they suddenly do. Maybe it ’s their reaction to the crisis—to me almost dying, to Jenna being beaten, to Mason on the run. I guess I ’ll find out whether they still believe me next time I have a vision. Although maybe there ’s something I can do to help that along.
“Gil ’s nana has psychic gifts, too. She ’s a medium. Maybe you can talk to her sometime?” I write.
Dad reads it first, then passes it silently to Mom. Mom strokes my cheek. “Sure, honey. We ’ll talk to her.”
Dad clears his throat. “Why don ’t we invite them all over for dinner when you ’re doing better?”
They’re trying. They really are. “Ok, ” I write.
I shift restlessly. I hate this tube in my mouth. Hate a machine breathing for me. I want to go home. Want to feel normal again.
“Jenna said Gil was here, ” I write. “Did someone tell him I ’m okay? Can he visit yet?”
“When your tube is out and you ’re breathing on your own, ” Mom says. “He can visit then.”
“R u ok with all the police?” I write.
“Why wouldn ’t we be?” Mom asks, then stops herself. “Oh, honey—are you talking about that time—?” Her voice breaks off. “That wasn ’t your fault. And you were right after all.”
But I remember the hours and hours the officers spent interrogating me, and each of my parents. The suspicion and anger that resonated off the officers, and the haunted look my parents wore for months. The articles in the newspaper about the girl from my school who was abducted—the abduction I predicted. The way the cops treated us as if we were the ones who ’d snatched her—all because I ’d seen pieces of it before it happened. The way even our neighbors shunned us, their eyes slitted and cold.
“U really don ’t blame me?” I write.
“Honey, no! And if we ’d understood sooner, and believed you, maybe it would have been different.”
I look at Dad. He nods. “Everything your mother said, sweetheart.” He smoothes back my hair. “You look tired. Why don ’t you rest?”
I nod and close my eyes, and let sleep take me.
My throat feels raw, but at least I can swallow and talk now that the tube is out. It ’s a relief to breathe on my own. Though now I can smell that mixture of disinfectant and canned air that seems to pervade every hospital. I sigh. My chest hurts deep inside, but at least I ’m not coughing any more. And I have my own pajamas, instead of that awful hospital gown that opens at the back.
Mom looks up at me from her seat beside me. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah, ” I say hoarsely. I pick up a piece of yellow origami paper and fold yet another butterfly. Dad ’s back at work, Jenna ’s talking to a counselor, and I ’m just waiting to go home. Out the window, the sky looks clear and blue and perfect.
There’s a rap on the doorframe, and then Gil and Inez walk in, Inez hanging on tightly to Gil ’s arm.
“Inez, Gil!” I say hoarsely. “I ’m so glad you came!” I smile at Inez broadly, trying to reassure her. I ’ll bet it ’s the first time she ’s left the house since her rape. And she ’s showered and dressed, her hair twisted back behind her head.
“Hi Kate, hi Mrs. Robbins, ” Gil says.
“Hi, ” Inez says uncertainly.
Mom smoothes her dress and stands. “I ’ll give you three some alone time. All right, sweetie?”
I nod. Mom pats my knee and leaves.
Inez walks to the edge of my bed and tentatively touches my shoulder. “How are you feeling?”
“Better. I can go home soon, ” I say hoarsely.
“Are you really going to be okay now?” Inez says. “Gil says you almost died.”
“Yeah. I ’m hanging in. Glad to see you are, too.” I study her. Her eyes look brighter, more alive, her face less troubled than when I last saw her—in person and in my visions. There ’s still pain behind her eyes, but it doesn ’t look as strong. “I hope you ’re not thinking about a way out anymore, ” I say.
Inez shakes her head. “No. You were right. It would hurt Gil and my nana too much. And I think I want to live now, too. The way you do. I want to change things around here. I can ’t do that if I ’m dead.”
“Exactly, ” I say and cough.
Gil leaps forward. “You need your inhaler? Oxygen?”
I laugh, even though it hurts to. “I ’m okay, Gil. My throat ’s just a little raw. I ’ll survive.”
Gil laughs shakily. “Okay. You scared the heck out of me, you know.”
“I know. I ’m sorry.”
Inez cracks her knuckles.
I turn to look at her.
“I want you to know I ’m okay now. Well, I will be okay. I ’m getting better.” Inez swallows hard. “Gil told me what you did. You don ’t have to risk your life any more to see my future. I ’ll be okay.”
“You promise?” I say, looking at her steadily, knowing that if she promises, she ’ll keep moving toward life. Toward healing.
“Yes. I promise, ” Inez says, nodding curtly.
“I ’m glad, ” I say. “Did you already flush the rest of your pills down the toilet?”
Inez laughs. “I
shouldn ’t be surprised; you seem to see everything! Yes. I did it as soon as I heard you were in trouble.”
“Good, ” I say, and grin. I bite back more questions. Maybe she decided not to identify the boys who raped her. I don ’t want her to feel worse.
“And yes—I ’m going to tell the police who raped me, ” Inez says. “I ’ll bet you saw that, too.”
“Some of it, ” I say, smiling awkwardly.
“I ’m glad. Thank you.” Inez squeezes my hand. “I ’ll just go get something from the vending machine. Come find me when you ’re done, Gil.”
Gil watches her leave, then turns to me. “Thank you for saving her.”
“You helped save her, too. It wasn ’t all me. And Inez had to want to be here. In the end, she ’s the one who saved herself.”
“But she needed our help.” Gil shakes his head. “I didn ’t even know she was planning to kill herself when you first told me. If it hadn ’t been for you—” He sucks in his breath sharply. “I don ’t even want to think about it.” Gil unslings his backpack and pulls out a package. “This is for you.”
I rip open the wrapping paper. An origami book and a pack of paper slide out. Beautiful patterned paper, with flowers and vines and butterflies.
“I thought, while you ’re in the hospital, you might want—but I didn ’t realize you ’d have some already.”
“It ’s perfect, ” I say hoarsely and grin at him. “I love it; thank you. It ’s so much prettier than the paper I have.”
Gil presses his fist to his lips. “I ’m sorry I didn ’t get there in time. The principal caught me as I was leaving. I had to sneak out of the office while she called Nana.”
“It ’s okay!” I say. “You couldn ’t have gotten in, anyway.”
“No. I should have been there sooner.” Gil hangs his head. “I should have protected you.”
“Gil, I mean it. You couldn ’t have gotten in. The doors were all locked.”
Parallel Visions Page 8