Lost (13 page)

It's just Heather,
Ed reminded himself.
She used to carry a Hello Kitty backpack. She used to read Nancy Drew during science class. She once sent you a note asking you if you liked her a lot, a little, or not at all. You used to hold her hand when you walked home from school. She's still that person.

“So, are you excited about tomorrow?” Ed asked, sitting on the edge of the couch with his back hunched, clasping and unclasping his hands. He felt conspicuous, like he was going to be graded on his performance, and it was making him sweat.

“Yeah. Excited and scared,” Heather said lightly. “At least the whole what-to-wear problem isn't an issue. I usually spend a few weeks on that before school starts, but this time no one's going to be able to
tell
what I'm wearing.”

She laughed at her joke, and Ed let out a somewhat strangled sound. He wasn't sure how PC it was to laugh at a blind joke made by a blind person. What was the rule there?

“Time to break out those leg warmers I know you've been just dying to wear,” Ed replied in an affected voice, trying to play along.

“I'm thinking pajamas,” Heather said with faux seriousness. “Maybe a nice muumuu.”

“But hey, you never know. There may be some hot sighted janitor or teacher who'll need impressing,” Ed added.

“Good point,” Heather said with a mock-thoughtful frown. “Better go for cleavage.”

Ed smiled and leaned back slightly into the couch.
See? Just relax,
he told himself.
It's just Heather.

Just Heather, who in the last few days had proven to be even stronger than Ed had originally thought. Who'd managed to surprise everyone by taking her new disability and facing it head-on, enrolling in school and learning to cope, instead of curling up in a ball and feeling sorry for herself.

“It's amazing, what you're doing,” Ed said, his heart pounding a bit at the risk of making an intimate statement. “I'm really . . . well, I'm proud of you.”

Heather smiled, looking at that point over his shoulder. “Thanks, but I'm taking my cues from you,” she said.

Ed flushed and looked down at his once useless legs, amazed at how far they had both come since the day he'd been injured. Back then Heather couldn't stand to look at him. Now here she was, telling him he was her role model.

“It's going to be so weird, learning everything all over again,” Heather said, taking a deep breath. “I have to learn to
read
again. Isn't that bizarre? It's like tomorrow I graduate to the first grade.”

“Hey, on the upside, first grade means nap time,” Ed replied, earning a laugh. “Ooh! And free snacks!”

Heather pressed her palms into her thighs and
turned her head. “Okay, I can't talk about this anymore or I'm gonna lose it,” she said. “I've been obsessing all day. Let's talk about something else.”

“Okay. Like what?” Ed asked.

“Like . . . how's Gaia?” Heather asked, raising her eyes again. “What happened to her? I thought she was coming with you.”

“She wanted to,” Ed put in quickly, almost as a reflex. “She just—”

“Don't tell me, another trauma?” Heather said with a good-natured smirk.

When Ed stayed silent for a moment, the smirk fell right away from her face.

“Oh, come on! I was kidding! What happened now?” Heather asked in disbelief, her brow crinkling just over her nose.

“Well, her dad's kind of . . . in a coma,” Ed said, still unable to believe the words himself. Last night—not twenty-four hours ago—everything had been fine. He had been talking and laughing with this man, who was now catatonic without explanation.

“Omigod,” Heather said, paling slightly. “Is he going to come out of it?”

“No one knows,” Ed replied.

Heather shook her head, her eyes trained in the direction of the coffee table. “Poor Gaia. It's nonstop with that girl.”

Tell me about it,
Ed thought.

“Is she okay?” Heather asked.

“I don't know. You know Gaia,” Ed said. “She's not exactly one for emoting. I thought that coming over here would be a good distraction, but she didn't even show up today after school.”

“Oh, well, it's okay. I mean, if her father's in the hospital, I wouldn't expect her to come here,” Heather said, lifting both shoulders.

“I know, but she wanted to come,” Ed said. “I was going to go over to the hospital with her before we came here. It didn't even occur to me that she wouldn't show.”

“Maybe she went straight over to see her dad,” Heather suggested.

“Maybe,” Ed replied. He left out the fact that he'd called the ICU on his way over here and talked to Natasha. The fact that Natasha had told him she hadn't seen or heard from Gaia all day. The fact that he really did have no clue where she was. Or who she was with. Or what she was doing. And that it was eating him from the inside out.

“I'm sure she's okay,” Heather said.

“Yeah, I'm sure she is, too,” Ed said. “It's just—”

Don't say it, don't say it, don't say it. Don't be that guy. Just don't.

“What?”

Don't don't don't don't don't—

“It's just that there's this new guy at school and—”

Damn!

“Ed!”

“What?” he blurted, his voice cracking. “You don't even know what I was going to say!”

“Yes, I do!” Heather protested, a blush lighting her cheeks and her mouth open in a teasing smile. “You think Gaia likes some new guy! You do! Omigod! You are not happy unless you are jealous!”

“That is not true!” Ed replied, incredulous. “How can you say that? Who wants to be jealous?”

“Ed Fargo,” Heather replied. “Let's see, when we were going out, I was
constantly
cheating on you with other guys. There was John Brooks . . . Bobby Cook . . . Enis Totaj . . . that foreign exchange student from Pakistan. . . . Oh! Mr. Christopher, that cute math teacher.”

“See! You
did
like him!” Ed exclaimed! Ha! He
knew
it!

“I don't believe you!” Heather said, her whole face lighting up in triumph. “I don't care who this guy is or what you
think
Gaia sees in him: She does
not
like him.”

“How do you know? He could be Brad Pitt,” Ed pointed out.

“Brad Pitt is so not Gaia's type,” Heather replied. She shook her head, smiling. “Ed, Gaia loves you. You know it. I know it. Everyone at school knows it. You guys were, like, made for each other. Two total freaks.”

“Oh, thanks,” Ed said with a smile. He liked this reassuring thing. This was good.

“Sorry. Had to throw that in there,” Heather replied.

She leaned forward a bit, and her eyes traveled up the wall behind him. Then she cast them down to her hands and toyed with the fingers she couldn't see. It seemed like she was wishing she could look into his eyes to reassure him and the fact that she couldn't was throwing her off.

Slowly she stood up, and Ed instinctively sprang forward. “Don't get up,” Heather said, hearing the motion. She put her hand out flat and paused. “I'm fine.” Then she inched her way around the coffee table, giving it a wide berth, and sat down next to Ed. “Is this okay?” she asked.

“Fine,” Ed replied. He cleared his throat and tried not to stare at her eyes. It was so hard to believe that she couldn't see him. That she was sitting right there and he could study every inch of her, but she couldn't even tell how close or how far he was from her.

Heather reached out her hand and laid it on top of Ed's. Perfectly, flatly on top of his hand in one shot. It was like she could hear his thoughts and wanted to prove him wrong.

“Everything's gonna be fine,” Heather said, facing the room. “Gaia's going through something really hard right now, and we all know that she isn't Little Miss Share girl even when things are semi-normal. You've just
got to let her deal with things in her own way. I know that if my parents hadn't given me some breathing room, I'd probably be psych-ward bound right now.”

Ed took a deep breath and let it out slowly, turning his hand over so that he could entwine his fingers with Heather's. It felt good to touch her. It felt like she could see him now, in a way. It helped him relax.

“You're right—I just have to be patient,” he said.

“And understanding,” Heather added pointedly.

“Damn, you girls ask a lot,” Ed deadpanned.

Heather laughed. “Give her some space,” she said. “She'll come around.”

Ed squeezed her hand and repeated her words in his head, trying to let them soak in. Unfortunately it wasn't the easiest thing to do, deciding to give Gaia space. He'd been doing that ever since he met her . . . and obsessing about her from afar. Now that he had her, he was
still
supposed to give her space? It hardly seemed fair.

Well, you can't spend every waking minute with her, Ed,
he told himself.
Especially when you have no idea where she is . . .

I
really don't like the person I became in the wake of being stood up this afternoon. I was like this jealous, paranoid, self-effacing little twit with no trust. The thing is, I
know
on some level that I'm being stupid, but that doesn't stop me from feeling this way. So I've come up with some ideas to keep it from happening again. I mean, to keep from being stood up by Gaia again, not to keep from feeling this way, because I know that's not going to happen.

Okay, here's the list of possibilities:

1. Buy Gaia a cell phone.

Pros:
She'll be able to get me anytime, anywhere. I'll be able to get her anytime, anywhere.

Cons:
She is rabidly anti-cell phone.
She'll probably break it, and if not, she'll never use it.

2. Buy us both beepers.

Pros:
She'll be able to get me anytime, anywhere. I'll be able to get her anytime, anywhere. It's less offensive and less expensive than a cell phone.

Cons:
She'll probably break it, and if not, she'll never use it. The whole drug-dealer stigma. They're so 1998.

3. Get my hands on one of those house arrest bracelet things.

Pros:
I'll always know where she is.

Cons:
People will think she's an ex-con.
She's not one for accessorizing.
If I suggest it, she'll definitely kick my ass.

He seemed like someone she could trust.

Hospital-Issue Soap

GAIA SAT IN THE CUSHIONED CHAIR
next to her father's bed, holding his cold hand. Her eyes were trained on the small television that was suspended by a metal arm over his bed.
Jeopardy
was on, and Gaia was already in the lead. It was unbelievable what the people on this show didn't know. If Gaia ever got the chance to take on Alex Trebek and two numb-nuts contestants, she'd clean up.

She wondered what kind of questions he'd ask her in the short get-to-know-you part of the show. “So,
Gaia, I understand you were born without the fear gene. . . . Tell us about that.”
At least it would make the questions about latch-hooking hobbies and law degrees pale in comparison.

“The only two men to win the Best Actor Oscar twice, in successive years,” Alex Trebek intoned, looking to the contestants. The chubby guy on the end attacked his buzzer.

“Come on, Dad, you know that one,” Gaia prodded her father, squeezing his hand and looking at his peaceful face. She swallowed hard. “Um, how 'bout I just give you the five hundred dollars.”

She stared at her father's now stubbly profile, scrutinizing every inch for a tick or a blink or even a
deeper breath than the rhythmic, shallow, in-out, in-out she'd been listening to for the last hour. There was, of course, no movement. But Gaia knew if she stared long enough, she'd find something. She'd imagine something. And then she'd be elated for no reason. She made herself look away.

Gaia turned her heavy eyes toward the open door across from her, wondering where Natasha and Tatiana were right now. Natasha hadn't been here when she'd arrived, which was a mixed blessing. It meant that she wasn't in Gaia's face, but it also meant that she might be home, finding Sam.

Sam.
Just thinking his name sent a half-eerie, half-pleasant thrill over her skin. She still couldn't believe that he was alive. That he'd shown up in her life again. She'd let him go so long ago, and now he was back. Part of her expected to go home and find the maid's quarters empty save for all the dusty boxes. That she had imagined the whole thing as some kind of shoddy defense mechanism in response to her father's coma.

Letting out a long sigh, Gaia leaned back in her chair, never letting go of her father's hand. She looked down at the pink hospital scrubs she was wearing and shook her head. She couldn't remember the last time she'd let anything pink touch her skin. Maybe never. But after all that fighting, with no bathing, she'd been so disgusting when she'd walked into the ICU that
when the idiot nurse suggested she use the shower, she actually took her up on it.

It had felt amazing, that shower—fresh hospital towels, hospital - issue soap and shampoo with no frills, all that hot water. Gaia had almost relaxed in there, enclosed by turquoise ceramic tile, listening to salsa on the transistor radio some janitor had left on in the hallway. And now that she was clean and unsmelly, now that she was wearing the softest clothes she'd ever felt against her skin and had her hair pulled back in a neat ponytail, she almost felt human again.