One Past Midnight (31 page)

Mom was sitting in the armchair. It must have been late in the day.

Tears were streaming down my face before I'd even opened my eyes. I wondered if I'd cried all through the sedation.

“Sabine? Denise called me. She . . . she told me about the young man who worked here and passed away. She said he'd helped you and that you'd become close. We used to see Ethan at the store; he was always very nice. I'm sorry, Sabine.”

I was an empty shell. On some level I wanted to be angry with Mom, to blame her and Dad for doing this to me. I wanted to lash out and tell everyone that he didn't just help me. That he loved me, and I loved him. But it was useless. The thing I wanted most, I would never have.

Finally Mom left me, patting my hand like I was some lame animal, telling me she'd be back soon. Once I was sure I was alone, I pushed the armchair up against my door and dug underneath my mattress, pulling out the bag of supplies I'd taken from the drugstore. I emptied the contents onto my bed.

I was determined to get back at him. Just when I thought he hadn't been playing tricks on me, he'd proved me wrong. There I'd been in his arms, committing to a life I'd thought would be with him, and all the while he'd been saying good-bye to his own life.

Shit.

“Damn you, Ethan. How could you leave me? How could you make me want to stay and then . . . just leave me behind!”

My hands shook as I picked up the first box of pills and popped the contents onto the bed. It would be so easy to take them and then start screaming again. The doctors would come back in and put me under. With any luck I'd never wake up again. I wouldn't have to go through any more pain, wouldn't have to live in this world another moment without him, remember how much I wanted him.

I cupped the pills in my hand, letting them fall through my fingers before doing it again. Wherever he'd gone, maybe I could go with him?

But the minutes passed and still I couldn't take the pills. I kept thinking of Maddie. If I did this, I'd be leaving her just like he'd left me.

“What have you done to me?” I cried.

Because as much as I didn't want to, I could hear all the things Ethan had tried to tell me so clearly. The way he'd said that he only existed because I'd been there to see it.

He'd been telling me then. I just wasn't listening. Telling me that my memories of him would make him go on. Was I his only witness?

Ethan had wanted to live. He'd done everything he could to try to stay here, and when that failed, he'd given all of his hope, all of his life, to me.

I hated him so much.

I loved him more.

I understood now, why he'd liked the idea of my two lives, the idea that we went on. I got it. He'd wanted more, and to him . . . I had it. I shook my head at myself, more tears beginning to stream. No wonder I'd frustrated him so much. I didn't know how he'd put up with me—and even more, fallen in love with me. I could almost picture him standing there, looking at the pills in my hand and telling me I was being a damn fool—and worse, making him an accessory.

Ethan had believed I could never know what future one life might offer at any time. He'd made me promise to think about this choice I was making—to consider not only what it would be like to have one life, but what I'd be missing out on if I left my Roxbury world behind. I picked up the pills and
shoved them back in the box, half-cursing him, half-missing him more than ever. He was right.

“Ethan,” I sobbed. “God, I want you back.”

Leaving this world, this grief, would be easy—but it would stay with me in my other life and what would I have in its place? Would I eventually come to believe
this
life was a fabrication? That Ethan had never been real? I wouldn't be able to trust the truth of my memories, and I needed to be able to do that, always. To remember Ethan: his messy heap of hair, his kind, searching eyes, the garden where we'd lain together, the walks we took, the kisses we shared. If I left this world, who would remember everything that was amazing about him, and us?

I wrapped my arms around my waist, rocking in my ocean of sorrow. I had to hold a pillow to my face to stifle my sobs. Every breath made it worse.

I had thought death was the answer. I had believed it would be the thing that would give me the world I wanted and needed.

The worst of it was . . .

I was right.

It just wasn't
my
death.

Ethan loved that line in the John Lennon song that said that life is what happens when you're busy making other plans. It was true. I'd been so obsessed with fixing what was broken, I didn't see all the other things that were going on
around me—his illness most of all. I'd known something wasn't right, but I'd been so caught up in the immediacy of my world, I'd made it too easy for him to keep his secret. I'd thought I was going through something terrible and was angry at him for leaving me alone. All the while it had been him facing his end, alone.

Dex was another failing. If I'd had my eyes open, I would've noticed that my pulling away was triggering his possessive tendencies or even questioned him more about why he never touched alcohol. And maybe I would've been honest about my feelings earlier and distanced myself from him. Maybe that night would never have happened . . .

I wrapped up all the pills and shoved them back under my mattress. Then I stood up only to collapse to the floor a minute later and burst into another bout of gut-wrenching tears.

Eventually I would have to stop, but not now. Eventually I would go on—for me, for him, for the brief memory of us that meant so much—but behind closed doors there would be a part of me that would cry for him forever.

The days passed. I tried my best to function, but not a second went by that I didn't think of him, yearn for just one last touch. Often I would be doing something, thinking I was okay, and then out of nowhere I'd just stop being able to breathe and break down.

For the first time in my life, the terror of night wasn't about the Shift. It was all about missing him.

I went to my sessions with Dr. Levi. He was as professional as always, but he'd changed—aged maybe. Macie seemed to like me a little more for some reason too, or maybe she was just being nice to me as some kind of homage to Ethan.

I did everything requested of me. Everyone still struggled to understand how I'd suddenly been able to speak in another language. But in the end, like some things must, it went into the can't-explain basket.

I saw them all looking at me strangely at times, wondering why I'd had such a horrific reaction to Ethan's death. They didn't know. I didn't tell.

My memories were for me to carry and hold in my heart.

“Are you still traveling between your two lives, Sabine?” Dr. Levi asked one morning while he waited for me to take my shot.

I threw the dart. I was focused. Bull's-eye.

“You
have
met my parents, haven't you? Sometimes I suppose it was just easier to pretend I belonged somewhere else.”

“So you were able to influence your other world? Make things the way you wanted them?”

I refrained from rolling my eyes and shrugged noncommittally. “In the end, things just went too far. I see that now.” I passed him the darts.

He eyed me suspiciously. “That's quite a change in viewpoint,” he said, turning his attention to the dartboard, lining up his first shot.

I nodded. “I guess. The thing is, everything just got out of control. Once I started saying these things, it was hard to go back. One thing just led to another and I got all muddled up in it.”

He took his shot. Outer rim. He glanced at me sheepishly while I grinned at his poor aim. “But now you're not? Muddled, that is.”

“I don't think this is an overnight thing,” I said, playing the game. “It's going to take some time to repair the damage I've done and gain back my family's trust. But I'm ready to try.”

“Did Ethan's passing have anything to do with your change of heart?” His pretense of a casual approach faltered as he stopped what he was doing and turned to me.

I wanted to cry just hearing his name. Fold over and scream. But I stood tall and ignored the ache. “I think it might've. Life's too short. If Ethan taught me anything, that would be it. I want to get on with living mine.”

“Just the one?”

“I'm just me, Dr. Levi. What you see here is what I am.”

He seemed satisfied and took another poor shot. I suspected he was losing on purpose. “That's good to hear, Sabine.”

“Good enough to get me out of here?” It was worth a try.

“Not just yet. But soon, Sabine. Soon.”

I nodded, knowing what that meant. At the end of the session I pulled out a small bag from where I'd tucked it into the waistband of my miniskirt, and held it out to him.

He took it. “What's this?”

“A bad decision.”

He looked in the bag and saw the pills. “Where did you . . . ?” He looked nervously from the pills to me.

“Can you give them to Mom and Dad? They'll be able to check their stock. Every last pill is there.”

“How did you . . . ?”

I considered giving him the window key too, but I wasn't an idiot. Levi had been using that “not yet, but soon,” line on me ever since I'd started cooperating, and I knew it was his way of stalling. A girl needs a backup plan.

I shrugged. “Do we really need to get into the tech-nicalities? The point is, I don't want them anymore.” Which was true.

“Why not just throw them out?”

“Clean slate,” I reasoned.

He pursed his lips, confused. I knew the look. It almost made me smile. Yeah, I was a mystery. And as long as he continued to believe that, he wouldn't figure out I'd simply played the best hand I could with the cards I was holding. It was only a matter of time before inventory reared its ugly
head again, and if I hadn't taken the proactive step to remedy it, then things would've blown up in my face for sure. At least this way, I'd controlled it and maybe even earned myself a little extra trust that I was hoping he might extend.

In Wellesley I grieved too, unable to pretend I wasn't completely broken. No one questioned me. After what Dex had done, they figured it was because of him. But Dex wasn't even a blip on the pain radar.

The police came to see me, a male and a female officer. I told them the truth—everything I could. It wasn't for me to decide whether what Dex did was excusable or not, so I told them how I'd planned the night, how I'd made him wait and promised him that we would be together. I told them how he'd always respected me previously, but that he'd also become increasingly possessive. I confessed that up until the moment I said no I hadn't actually realized I was going to break up with him—but that once I did, he grabbed the champagne and disappeared. Until he came back. I told them I thought he would've killed me.

They took notes, nodding as I spoke.

I expected them to say I got what I deserved. I half- wondered it myself. But when they stood up, it was the man who put out his hand to shake mine. “Thank you for your honesty. I'm sorry for what happened. No matter what led
up to it, there is never, ever any excuse to justify what he did to you.”

I shook his hand. “Thank you, Officer.”

I wish I could say it made me feel better. At least it hadn't made me feel worse. I wasn't sure what would happen to Dex. But I'd done as much as I was willing to do. A better person may have done more, or less. I don't know.

Ethan's funeral came and went. Everyone at the hospital who'd known him was invited, but with no living family, the service felt incomplete. My heart ached for him. Capri came with me and we sat in the back. She didn't push for information, she was just there, withstanding my bruising grip on her hand. I had planned to be stoic.

I cried the whole time.

That night after midnight, I used my window key and walked all the way to the Public Garden. I sat under our willow tree until the sun began to rise. The funny thing about life is, even when you make the decision to live it, to be in it, that doesn't necessarily mean it will let you. But the days went by and I kept turning up. It was hard.

Having a goal helped and getting out of the hospital was mine. I needed to get my life back in this world. I didn't know exactly what that would mean or where it would take me, but I was determined to find out.

A few days after the funeral, Levi came to my room, looking confused.

“Do you mind if I come in?” he asked.

I put away my notebook—it had now become a journal in which I was attempting to document every moment, every conversation, every outing I'd shared with Ethan.

Levi sat in the chair and looked at me as I sat cross-legged on the bed. “Sabine . . . um, you might not have realized this, but Ethan had been quite thorough in his preparations. He'd regularly updated his will, and since his parents are no longer with us, he'd asked me to look after the proceedings. The will was read today.”

“Oh.” Had he left something for me? I didn't know if I could bear it, but at the same time I would've done anything for a photo. I didn't have a single photo.

“Sabine, it seems Ethan left some instructions for me, in regard to you.”

He pulled an envelope out of his pocket and a folded piece of paper. He handed me the sealed envelope. “Sabine” was simply written on the front.

He opened the piece of paper. “Ethan left us both a note. Mine . . . Well, at the end of it, he said . . .” He cleared his throat. “‘Please give my other letter to Sabine. I know that you have all formulated your opinions about her, but for what it's worth, it is my professional opinion that she is of sound mind and not in any way a threat to herself or any
other person. Take your time, Levi. Be sure, as I know you will be, before you let her out. But I know your instincts will tell you the same thing, and I implore you to trust in them as you always taught me to do. Furthermore, I hereby bequeath, after the donations earlier stipulated, all of my holdings, my apartment, and most importantly my car, to Sabine in full.'”