One Past Midnight (15 page)

After drinking half the mixture I waited awhile to make sure it would stay down, then finished off the rest and slipped the empty bottle under my pillow. Just as I settled myself in bed again, Ethan reappeared.

“Not tired?” he asked, walking toward me.

“Waiting,” I said without thinking.

“For what?”

I shrugged. “A better life.”

He threw me an odd look.

“So what's your deal anyway? I never see you in a uniform. Are you really a nurse, or are you a student?”

He must have seen it as an invitation because he repositioned himself in the chair. “I'm a licensed nurse and med—I was a med student. Now I work nights here.”

“To pay the bills,” I said, repeating what I'd heard him tell Mitch. He didn't miss it and smiled. I bit down on the return smile that threatened my lips.

I guessed he must have had some big bills to pay if he'd dropped out of med school.

“Something like that.” He shrugged. “Anyway, I like it. I'm a night person. How about you?”

I rolled my eyes. “Smooth.”

He laughed and the sound filled the room. An easy, liquid sound that moved its way right through me. When he finished, he looked at me closely, tilting his head.

“You said last night that you would tell me, if I truly wanted to know.” He leaned forward, elbows on his knees.

“That was then. Things have changed.”

“Ah.”

“What does that mean?” I replied sharply.

“It sounds like you've given up on the world.”

I sat up a little, noticing that the lighting in the room seemed different. I crossed my arms. “Not on the world—on people. And I
get
that that makes me sound insane, but you have no idea what my lives have been like.”

“So tell me,” he said, not missing a beat.

“Why?” I answered softly. “It doesn't matter anymore.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Do you prefer your other life?”

I looked at him, trying to figure out his angle.

“I guess things are pretty good there,” he went on.

“No. Actually things are hard there too.”

“Do you have a sister there as well? What's your sister's name here?”

I narrowed my eyes. “Maddie,” I said, unable to hold off the pang of guilt. She was hands down the best thing about this life. “And no, I have two brothers. Ryan and Lucas.”

He watched me, no doubt looking for telltale crazy signs.

I huffed. Something about this guy got under my skin. “Whatever,” I said, knowing I was on shaky ground. “All right, Ethan, get out your pen.”

He didn't, but I kept talking anyway. I don't know why, but once I opened my mouth I couldn't seem to stop. I told him how the Shift worked. What it was like to have to live every day twice, but have no two days ever the same. To go through every year of school twice, get my period for twice as long each month, know that in some ways I was almost as old as my parents. It all just came out. When the verbal onslaught finished, and he'd had a few moments to get over his shock, he leaned closer to me.

“So no one can ever know for sure? They can't see you ‘shift,' as you call it?”

I sighed. That was all that mattered—proof beyond all
reasonable doubt. “You were with me at midnight last night. What do you think?”

His eyes widened. “How do you know I was with you at midnight? You were sedated.”

I thought of the hand that had held on to mine, that had seemed to anchor me somehow. “I . . . I don't know. I just . . . I thought I felt someone holding my hand when I shifted back. My mind was awake for a few seconds before the drugs caught up with me. It's hard to explain. I still don't even . . .“

He bit his lower lip. Once again, I found myself mesmerized by the action, staring at the fullness of his mouth, the way his teeth let his lip slowly slide back into place.

“So what did you do yesterday in your other world?” he asked.

“I went to lunch and a movie. I chatted to the French waiter—he liked talking with someone who could speak French—then Dex drove me home. I had dinner with Mom and talked to my friends on the phone. That's pretty much it. Frankly it was just nice not being tied down and knocked out.”

He let the dig slide. “You can speak French?”

“Yeah. I learned in my other life. I speak it fluently there.”

He nodded slowly. “But not here.”

My eyebrows pulled together in frustration. “Of course I can speak it here, but I don't because I've never
learned
it in this life. It would be kind of weird if I just started rambling in French one day.”

“Right,” he said, disbelief painted on his face.

I'd had just about enough. “My memory comes with me, Ethan.” And for the first time in my Roxbury life, I began to speak in another language. “
Si vous voulez que je parle français pour vous le prouver à vous, je peux parler toute la journée. Et pendant que j'y suis, je n'ai aucune idée pourquoi je ne peux pas cesser de regarder vos lèvres!
” My comeback was delivered in perfect French. You can't fake that accent.

Ethan looked stunned. “What . . . What did you say?”

I shrugged. “Just that if you need me to speak in French to prove it to you, I can speak it all day long.” I didn't add I might have also said I found it odd that I couldn't stop staring at his lips.

He did the head-tilt thing again, as if trying to work me out. I was suddenly self-conscious, wondering if he knew I hadn't translated everything.

As he paced around the room, I realized the waiter in
Le Bon Goût
had been right. Once you learned a language, you really could take it anywhere.

“So,” he said, between paces, “if you can do that, can you get lottery numbers from one world and bring them back in time to win in the other? Or . . . change a disaster, prevent a car crash or something?” His tone was still dubious, as though he was only humoring me, but I was sure I'd heard a hint of something more, a new interest brewing.

I shook my head, noticing how much my vision was
now playing tricks on me. I held out my hand discreetly and saw the tremble. The digoxin was working its way into my system.

“Sabine?” Ethan prompted.

“Oh no. It's not like that. No get-rich-quick perks or superhero opportunities. There are crossovers, but each world is different. The only things you can fully rely on to remain consistent are language, math, materials, chemicals—stuff like that.”

“Weather?” he suggested.

“Seasons, but not the daily forecast.”

“Places, buildings?”

“Are often similar, but slightly altered. Which makes sense to me, since I guess the people who live or work in them would be different.”

Ethan looked at me strangely. “You're slurring, Sabine.”

I tensed, but he was right. I was starting to lose my grip on things and I was feeling increasingly nauseated. I closed my eyes and swallowed, willing my stomach to keep the medication down. When I opened them, the light in the room had a yellowish tinge. I glanced up; there was a halo surrounding the small ceiling light.

“Sabine?” Ethan persisted.

“Must be tired,” I said, carefully enunciating each word.

“Should I go?”

“Ah . . . maybe not.”

He nodded, looking both concerned and relieved.

I noticed each and every time his teeth bit down on his lower lip and internally chastised myself for wondering what those lips would feel like on my own.

“Have you always hated it?” he asked.

“It's never been easy. At first, when I was a kid, I didn't realize it didn't happen to everyone. Then, when I started to understand, I just got . . . scared. I thought I'd done something wrong and didn't want to tell anyone. Eventually I learned there was no way to control it, so I accepted I had to live with it. I learned to be the person I was expected to be in each world and forget who I was in the other.”

“Sounds hard.”

I nodded. “I got used to it. Didn't think there was any other way. Until now.”

“Because now the physical connection isn't traveling between the worlds?” he asked, disbelief shining through again.

My vision was getting worse and I had to close my eyes a few times to regain my focus. “What time is it?”

“About 11:40. You're sweating, Sabine,” he said, inching closer.

“Hot,” I replied, but my heart was racing and I was starting to feel breathless.

Ethan was watching me, but I couldn't hold his gaze.

“Just let it go, Ethan. Nothing I say is going to convince
you. I can't bring things back magically or foresee the future. All I have is my memories, and me. So unless I can help you there, we're at a stalemate.”

He smiled. “How about you come back at midnight in,” he looked at his watch, “seventeen minutes and tell me how to say ‘My name is Sabine and I live in two worlds and I want Ethan to believe me' in . . .” He thought about it, his smile widening. “Can you only speak French?”

I nodded slowly, not really following. My whole body was going into overdrive.

“Okay, come back and say that in German.”

I didn't respond.

“Sabine?”

I could feel my eyes rolling back, my head falling to the pillow. Then a hand on my forehead.

“Sabine?” Ethan's tone had changed. “Why are you so pale?” His hand moved to the back of my neck. “You're wet all over.”

Before I could say anything my body took over, rolling to the side and convulsing as I threw up on the floor. Something fell to the ground as I did.

Ethan gasped, holding me up. He righted me on the bed, then bent quickly to grab the object from the floor. “Jesus Christ, Sabine! What was in this bottle?” he yelled.

“Water,” I stammered before leaning over the edge to vomit again.

“Tell me what was in it,” he said urgently.

But I couldn't answer. My whole body was shaking and the retching wouldn't stop.

Ethan reached over me and pressed a button on the wall. An alarm sounded. He grabbed my right hand and felt for a pulse. The meds were kicking in harder than I'd planned.

Knowing I might not get another chance, I opened my fist, revealing the inside of my cast, and held it out to him.

“Digibind?” he said.

Silence.

Then . . .

“
Digibind!
Jesus, that's an antidote, isn't it? Sabine, what have you done?
What
have you done?
”

I couldn't talk. I just stared into his deep-blue eyes and let them be my anchor.

My door crashed open, people rushed in. Hands moved over me, things were wrapped around my arm. Something cold was on my chest.

Ethan shouted even as his eyes stayed locked on mine. “She's OD'd. I think she's taken digoxin. She needs Digibind!”

Someone was pushing him away. I could feel his grip on my hand loosening. With every ounce of will I had, I held on to him.

He stayed. Squeezed back.

Whoever was pushing things over my chest yelled out,
“Her heart's going into failure. Somebody get the Digibind, now!”

Hands were all over me. An oxygen mask was strapped to my face.

But it was too late.

Blinking into Ethan's desperate eyes, I shifted.

My body heaved convulsively as I scrambled off my bed and fell to the floor on all fours. Tears dripped from my eyes as the pressure built and I lurched forward, vomiting nothing but bile.

Oh God. It hadn't worked.

I was in Wellesley.

The test failed.

I was dying here too.

What had I done?

I retched again and slumped onto the ground, panting weakly when there was nothing left.

Is this what it had all come to?

The moment, the choices, over?

Had I fooled myself into this?

I gasped and hiccuped through silent, fear-filled sobs. I would die alone. After all this, I would have no one with me.

My heart was pounding in my chest. But despite my panicked thoughts, I noticed that my breathing had started to slow down. I opened my eyes. My bedroom was mostly dark, but my bedside lamp, still on, appeared normal. I stared into the light—just a normal globe-white glow. No halos surrounding it. No yellow tinge.

I dragged myself into a sitting position with my back resting against the side of my bed. With each breath I was feeling calmer, more . . . myself. I put my hand over my chest and felt my pounding heartbeat, but as time went on, the rhythm seemed to stabilize.

Hands shaking, I stayed where I was and waited.

I don't know how long I sat there, but eventually I had enough confidence to attempt to stand. My knees wobbled and I held on to the side of the bed until I managed to straighten up. But with each passing moment, I felt stronger and my footing was surer.

There was only one explanation.

I'd been suffering from some kind of mental overlap. The effects of the last hour on my mind—its expectations of what
should
have been happening to my body given what had just happened in my other life—had taken over and were causing a physical reaction.