Theres no stopping it. The hallway doesnt last forever, and I step into the living room just in time to hear Brian say, Shes not as pretty as in the pictures.
Brian and his mom have their backs to me, but Carols mouth falls open when she sees me standing there, and both of the Scharffs whip around to face me. At least they have the grace to look embarrassed. He drops his eyes quickly, and she flushes.
Ive never felt so ashamed or exposed. This is worse, even, than standing in the translucent hospital gown at the evaluations, under the glare of the fluorescent lights. My hands are trembling so badly the water jumps over the lip of the glasses.
Heres your water. I dont know where I find the strength to come around the sofa and place the glasses down on the coffee table. Not too much ice.
Lena My aunt starts to say something, but I inter- rupt her.
Im sorry. Miraculously, I even manage a smile. I can only hold it for a fraction of a second, though. My jaw is trembling too, and I know that at any moment I might cry. Im not feeling very well. I think I might step outside for a bit.
I dont wait to be given permission. I turn around and rush the front door. As I push out into the sun I hear Carol apologizing for me.
The procedure is still several weeks away, shes saying. So youll have to forgive her for being so sensitive. Im sure it will all work out. . . .
The tears come hot and fast as soon as Im outside. The world begins to melt, colors and shapes bleeding together. The day is perfectly still. The sun has just inched past the middle of the sky, a flat white disk, like a circle of heated metal. A red balloon is caught in a tree. It must have been there for a while. It is going limp, bobbing listlessly, half-deflated, at the end of its string.
I dont know how Ill face Brian when I have to go back inside. I dont know how Ill face him ever. A thousand awful things race through my mind, insults Id like to hurl at him. At least I dont look like a tapeworm, or, Has it ever occurred to you that youre allergic to life?
But I know I wontcantsay any of those things.
Besides, the problem isnt really that he wheezes, or is allergic to everything. The problem isnt even that he doesnt think Im pretty.
The problem is that he isnt Alex.
Behind me the door squeaks open. Brian says, Lena?
I mash my palms against my cheeks quickly, wiping away the tears. The absolute last thing in the world I want is for Brian to know that his stupid comment has upset me. Im fine, I call back, without turning, since Im sure I look like a mess. Ill come inside in a second.
He must be stupid or stubborn, because he doesnt leave me alone. Instead he closes the door behind him and comes down off the front stoop. I hear him wheezing a few feet behind me.
Your mom said it was okay if I came out with you, he says.
Shes not my mom, I correct him quickly. I dont know why it seems so important to say. I used to like it when people confused Carol for my mom. It meant they didnt know the real story. Then again, I used to like a lot of things that seem ridiculous now.
Oh, right. Brian must know something about my real mom. Its on the record he would have seen. Sorry. I forgot.
Of course you did , I think, but dont say anything. At least the fact that hes hovering over me has made me too angry to be sad anymore. The tears have stopped. I cross my arms and wait for him to take the hintor get tired of staring at my backand go inside. But the steady wheezing continues.
Ive known him less than half an hour, and already I could kill him. Finally I get tired of standing there in silence, so I turn around and brush past him quickly.
Feeling much better now, I say. I dont look at him as I start toward the house. We should go in.
Wait, Lena. He reaches out and grabs my wrist. I guess grabs isnt really the right word. More like wipes sweat on. But I stop anyway, though I still cant bring myself to meet his eyes. Instead I keep my eyes locked on the front door, noticing for the first time that the screen has three large holes in it, near the upper right corner. No wonder the house has been full of insects this summer.
Grace found a ladybug in our bedroom the other day.
She brought it to me, cupped in her tiny palm. I helped her carry it downstairs and release it outside.
I feel an overwhelming rush of sadness, unrelated to Alex or Brian or any of that. Im just struck with a sense of time passing so quickly, rushing forward. One day Ill wake up and my whole life will be behind me, and it will seem to have gone as quickly as a dream.
I didnt mean for you to hear what I said before, he says. I wonder if his mom made him say this. The words seem to require a tremendous effort on his part. It was rude.
As if I havent already been completely humiliatednow he has to apologize for calling me ugly. My cheeks feel like theyre going to melt off, theyre so hot.
Dont worry about it, I say, trying to extricate my wrist from his hand. Surprisingly, he wont let me go even though technically he shouldnt be touching me at all.
What I meant was His mouth works up and down for a second. He wont meet my eyes. He keeps scanning the street behind me, his eyes darting back and forth, like a cat watching a bird. What I meant was, you looked happier in the pictures.
This is a surprise, and for a second I cant think of a response. I dont seem happy now? I splutter out, and then feel even more embarrassed. Its so weird to be having this conversation with a stranger, knowing he wont be a stranger for very much longer.
But he doesnt seem freaked out by the question. He just shakes his head. I know you arent, he says. He drops my wrist, but I dont feel as desperate to go inside anymore. Hes still staring off at the street behind me, and I sneak a closer look at his face. I guess he could be kind of good-looking. Not nearly so gorgeous as Alex, obviouslyhes super pale and slightly feminine-looking, with a full, round mouth and a small, tapered nosebut his eyes are a clear, pale blue, like a morning sky, and he has a nice strong jawline. And now I start to feel guilty. He must know Im unhappy because Ive been paired with him. Its not his fault Ive changedseen the light or contracted the deliria, depending on who you ask. Maybe both.
Im sorry, I say. Its not you. Im justIm just scared about the procedure, thats all. I think of how many nights I used to fantasize about stretching out on the operating table, waiting for the anesthesia to turn the world to fog, waiting to wake up renewed. Now Ill be waking up to a world without Alex: Ill be waking up into the fog, everything gray and blurry and unrecognizable.
Brian is looking at me, finally, with an expression I cant identify at first. Then I realize: pity. He feels sorry for me. He starts speaking all in a rush. Listen, I probably shouldnt tell you this, but before my procedure I was like you. His eyes click back to the street. The wheezing has stopped. He speaks clearly, but low, so Carol and his mom cant hear through the open window. I didntI wasnt ready. He licks his lips, drops his voice to a whisper. There was a girl I used to see sometimes at the park. She babysat for her cousins, used to bring them to the playground there. I was captain of the fencing team in high schoolthats where we practiced.
You would be captain of the frigging fencing team, I think. But I dont say this out loud; I can tell hes trying to be nice.
Anyway, we used to talk sometimes. Nothing happened, he qualifies quickly. Just a few conversations, here and there. She had a pretty smile.
And I felt . . . He trails off.
Wonder and fear sweep through me. Hes trying to tell me that were alike. He somehow knows about Alexnot about Alex specifically, but about someone. Wait a second. My mind is churning. Are you trying to say that before the procedure you were . . . you got sick?
Im just saying I understand. His eyes flick to mine for barely a fraction of a second, but thats all I need. Im positive now. He knows Ive been infected. Im both relieved and terrifiedif he can see it, other people will see it too.
My point is only that the cure works. He places extra emphasis on the last word. I know, now, that hes trying to be kind. Im much happier now. You will be too, I promise.
Something inside of me fractures when he says that, and I feel like I could cry again. His voice is so reassuring. Theres nothing I want more in that moment than to believe him. Safety, happiness, stability: what Ive wanted my whole life. And for that moment I think maybe the past few weeks really have just been some long, strange delirium. Maybe after the procedure Ill wake up as from a high fever, with only a vague recollection of my dreams and a sense of overwhelming relief.
Friends? Brian says, offering me his hand to shake, and this time I dont flinch when he touches me. I even let him hold my hand an extra few seconds.
Hes still facing the street, and as were standing there a frown flickers temporarily across his face. What does he want? he mutters, and then calls out, Its okay.
Shes my pair.
I turn around just in time to see a flash of burnt golden- brown hairthe color of leaves in autumndisappear around the corner. Alex. I wrench my hand away from Brians, but its too late. Hes gone.
Must have been a regulator, Brian says. He was just standing there, staring.
The feeling of calm and reassurance Id had only a minute earlier vanishes in a rush. Alex saw mehe saw us, holding hands, heard Brian say I was his pair. And I was supposed to have met him an hour ago. He doesnt know that I couldnt get out of the house, couldnt get a message to him. I cant imagine what he must be thinking about me right now. Or actually, I can imagine.
Are you okay? Brians eyes are so pale theyre almost gray. A sickly color, not like sky at alllike mold or rot. I cant believe I thought he could be attractive for even a second. You dont look too good.
Im fine. I try to take a step toward the house and stumble. Brian reaches out to steady me, but I twist away from him. Im fine, I repeat, even though everything around me is breaking, fracturing.
Its hot out here, he says. I cant stand to look at him.
Lets go inside.
He puts a hand on my elbow and propels me up the stairs, through the door, and into the living room, where Carol and Mrs. Scharff are waiting for us, smiling.