The Fifty-Seven Lives of Alex Wayfare (15 page)

The singer's words hung in the air around us like mist. She sang of loving her sweetheart night and day, of him leaving her all alone, of her tears. She told him he'd regret it, that his heart would break one day. He'd miss the dearest pal he ever had. Someday. After he was gone.

The words caught me up and wouldn't let go. Every minute I spent with Blue brought me closer to the moment I had to leave. I could feel it all fading away – that yawning, empty feeling that comes with the ending of things.

Something told me this was the last time I'd ever see Nicholas Piasecki.

I squeezed my eyes shut and pushed the thought from my mind. It was just as unwelcome as Porter.

“You know,” I said, smiling up at Blue and trying to ignore the heaviness in my heart. “The boys back home in Annapolis don't like to dance.”

“What?” He was incredulous. “Why not?”

“They think it's stupid. They'd rather play video games.”

He tilted his ear closer to my mouth. “Video what?”

“Sports, I mean.”

“Sports?” he scoffed. “What a load a'hooey. Don't they like girls?”

I laughed. “Yeah, they like girls.”

He shook his head. “If you're stuck on a girl, dancing is the fastest way to get your hands on her. What kind of goof wouldn't want that?”

“I guess no one's ever been stuck on me enough to ask.”

He lifted my chin with his knuckle. His mouth hitched up on the side again. “Been hanging out with a bunch of blind guys, Sousa?”

I laughed and buried my face in his jacket. He wrapped both arms around me and rested his cheek on the top of my head.

Your heart will break like mine, and you'll want me only. After you've gone, the sequined jazz singer sang. After you've gone away.

CHAPTER 11

 

 

When the song was over, the band leapt back into a lively swing, but I didn't feel like being upbeat just then. Instead, I led Blue back toward the storage room and pushed him through the doorway.

“Want me all to yourself?” he said with a laugh, clapping a hand on his cap so it wouldn't fall off. “All you had to do was ask.”

I gave him one more playful push, then heaved the door shut, leaving the sounds, the laughter, the lights, and the smoke behind us. “I want you to play for me.” I spoke the words into the dark. Blue was a silhouette against the dim amber lights outside. I wanted him to play for me the way Sam played for Ilsa in Casablanca.

“OK.”

I followed him to an old grand piano standing by a wall of grimy windows. Stacks of boxes and crates were mounded all around it, but the top was propped open. He dusted off the bench and we sat side-by-side. He lifted the fallboard, flexed his fingers, then played a sweet and lilting melody, his hands moving like shadows across the faint ivory keys.

He played effortlessly. Happily. Passionately. He played so that I envied him and wished I had a speck of discernible musical talent within me.

When he hit the last note, he lifted his hands with a flourish, and we laughed. He wrapped an arm around me and gave my shoulders a squeeze. “How was that?”

“Perfect.” I pressed one of the black keys. Then one of the white. “Did you write it?”

He laughed at me. “Yup. Just call me Hoagy Carmichael.”

“Who?”

He squeezed my shoulders again. “Never mind. You just remember it's called Stardust. It'll be our song.”

I tucked our song into my pocket. I buttoned it closed. There was no way I'd ever forget it.

“Ready to go?” he said after we sat there for a while. “There's one last place I want to show you.”

I nodded, even though I didn't like the word last.

 

 

We walked hand-in-hand toward the lake shore once more. Neither of us said a word. Silence always seemed to make time tick a little slower.

Across Michigan Avenue, we strolled through Grant Park to a wide-open plaza at the edge of the lake. In the center of the plaza, a huge fountain sent a single shaft of brilliant white water soaring into the air. Three massive round tiers, illuminated by dozens of dazzling lights from within, made it look like a wedding cake. A giant shallow pool, reflecting all the light like smooth onyx, was its pedestal. I'd seen some beautiful fountains in Washington DC before, but this was by far my favorite.

“It's brand new,” Blue said, as we approached. Our shoes crunched on the gravel. “The Clarence Buckingham Memorial Fountain. One of the biggest fountains in the world. Mom and I were here when they dedicated it. John Philip Sousa was here too,” he added with a grin.

“Well, it wouldn't be an event without Sousa, would it?”

We stepped up as close as we could, but it was blocked off by a low railing. “Damn,” I said. “I wanted to make a wish.”

“What's stopping you?”

“I'd have to cross the railing.”

He shrugged. “So cross the railing.” He jumped over it in one smooth motion and walked right up to the edge of the fountain. I hesitated, half-tempted to follow.

“Come on,” he taunted. “You need to make that wish of yours. It feels important.”

He was right. It was important.

I looked all around, but we seemed to be the only ones there. The diamond lights of Chicago glittered behind us. The fountain lights played across Blue's caramel-colored suit.

I climbed over the railing.

He pulled two pennies from his pocket and handed one to me. He pressed his lips to his own, then flipped it into the water. I closed my eyes and clutched my penny to my chest. I wished long, and I wished hard.

I wished that I would see him again.

Somehow.

Then my wish became a flash of copper, sinking to the bottom of the onyx pool.

“What did you wish for?” Blue asked.

I smiled at the fountain. “Can't tell you.”

“No?” He stepped closer to me, his teasing, easy smile making me feel shy all over. His hands closed around mine. “But you told Clarence Buckingham.”

“Only because he can keep a secret.”

“Ah. I guess you're right. I don't think he's let one slip yet.” He pulled my white gloves off one-by-one and tucked them in his pockets. Our fingers entwined for the first time, skin to skin. “I've been wanting to do that all night,” he said, smiling down at our hands. His were smooth and cold. His fingernails were wide and squared off at the tips.

It was the first time I'd ever held a boy's hand. I started to shiver and hoped Blue wouldn't be able to tell. I prayed my palms wouldn't get sweaty.

“What did you wish for?” I asked him. It came out like a whisper compared to the rush of the fountain. The roof of my mouth had gone dry.

He looked up, glancing at my lips before his eyes met mine. “You really want to know?”

I held my breath and nodded. My heart was in my throat.

His gaze fell to my lips again. He leaned in ever so slightly. “Are you sure you want to know?”

I nodded, unable to speak.

He leaned in a bit more, his nose brushing against mine. I closed my eyes and stood up on my toes to meet him the rest of the way. My mouth parted.

The warmth of his lips grazed mine, then he paused and whispered, “But what if it doesn't come true?”

“Blue.” I opened my eyes and gave him a shove.

He caught my face in his hands and pressed his lips to mine.

I froze at first from the shock of it, but I thawed out soon enough. I hooked my arms around his neck and melted into him. I didn't know kissing would come so easily until I kissed Blue, especially since he seemed to know what he was doing. I simply followed his lead. I kissed him like I would never see him again. Like it was my one and only chance. He kissed me the same way – like he sensed the cold and lonely shadow of finality closing in around us.

We kissed so at least one of our wishes came true.

Alex.

This time Porter shoved his way into my head without mercy, the pressure between my ears unbearable. I gasped and nearly jumped out of my skin. I stumbled backward toward the edge of the fountain, and Blue grabbed me before I tumbled into the water. I couldn't see straight. The pressure behind my eyes was blinding.

“Come on,” Blue said. “Kissing me wasn't that bad, was it?”

I barely took notice of his joke. I sat on the fountain's edge, my palms pressed to my temples. Go away, I shouted at Porter.

Your time's almost up. You have to leave your host body where you first found it.

How am I supposed to do that? I yelled back at him. I'm all the way across town.

I waited for his answer, but none came. I didn't even know if he could hear me shouting at him in my head. I felt his presence lift, then disappear, leaving me alone with Blue. I stared down at my shoes, breathing hard. Everything was tinted red.

Limbo tugged at me, tilting the Chicago skyline and making me feel nauseous like after a carnival ride. The more I fought against it, the more I couldn't tell the difference between the past and the present. It felt like I was straddling a fence, being stretched from both sides. My body belonged in the past, yearned to stay in the past, but my soul belonged in the future.

And it was heading back to Limbo whether I liked it or not.

Blue sat next to me and rubbed circles on my back. “Sousa? You OK?”

What was I supposed to do? Ask Blue to take me back to the bakery? Back into Cafferelli territory? All I wanted to do was kiss him until the black came to take me away. I wanted to breathe him in until there was no more breath. I wanted his scent and his face and his warmth to be the last few memories I took with me to Limbo.

But if I stayed with Blue until my time was up – if I was sent back to Limbo while still sitting here beside him – the old me, the 1927 me, wouldn't know who he was. She'd find herself in the arms of a stranger. Dressed in strange clothes. Far from her home.

What would she do? Hit him? Run from him? Tell him to never lay a hand on her again?

I couldn't do that to Blue. I couldn't do that to her. Going back to the bakery was the only way to leave her with some semblance of normalcy. She'd still be freaked out – she'd have lost two days of her life, with no memory of either. Two days I stole from her.

From myself.

But at least she'd know how to get home. I owed her that much.

I jumped to my feet and started back toward Michigan Avenue. I'd hail a cab and get as far away from Blue as possible before I ascended. Far enough away so he couldn't follow. I fisted my hands at my sides, fighting off tears.

“Alex,” he called out, running after me.

I walked faster. I didn't want to run, but I would if I had to. Luckily, though, I came to a smaller street before Michigan Avenue and spotted the bright yellow of a taxi a block away. I lifted my arm and flagged it down. Even if I ascended to Limbo on the way to the bakery, my past self would still be able to find her way home. All she'd have to do is tell the cab driver where to go.

Blue caught up to me just as the gleaming yellow Checkerboard Taxi pulled up to the curb. He caught my hand. His eyes pleaded. “Did I do something wrong?”

I shook my head, staring at his shoes. The reflection from the fountain sent orange light dancing across the leather.

“Did you remember where your aunt lives?” His voice was soft. Heartbroken.

I nodded.

He shifted his weight from his left foot to his right. I could feel his pulse throbbing in his hand. His skin felt like fire. He started to say something several times, but couldn't seem to find the right words.

“I left the money in Helena's bedside drawer,” I said. “I want you to have it.”

He furrowed his brow. “What? No, Alex–”

“I want you to pay off Frank's debts. Then I want you and Helena to start fresh. Save up all the money you make and keep it hidden.” He kept trying to interrupt me, but I refused to let him. “I've already made up my mind. And I don't care what you believe about taking money from a girl. You'll take it, and you'll do as I say. It's my money, I can do whatever I want with it. Now promise me. Promise you'll pay off his debts and you'll never work for Fifth Street again.”

For a long time, he was speechless. Finally he cleared his throat and nodded. “I'll pay you back.” His voice was thin.

“No, you won't. Then you'll just be trying to pay off another Frank. I won't allow it.”

He let a ghost of a smile appear at the corners of his mouth. He brushed a strand of hair from my face. “You get a little bossy when you're tired, you know.”

I tried to smile, but it came off as more of a wince than anything. I looked down so he wouldn't see it. “This was the best night of my life. I want you to know that.” I spoke the words into his breast pocket. Then I tore my hand from his and climbed into the cab. I slid onto the bench seat in the back, and Blue latched the door behind me. He reached in through the window and found my hand again.

“You don't have to go just yet,” he said. “You could stay one more night.” His voice wavered. He refused to look me in the eye.

I couldn't look at him either. I couldn't bring myself to say goodbye.

The taxi pulled away from the curb, and Blue's hand slipped from mine. I turned around and looked out the back window. He stood there, a hunched shadow, a bent frame, watching me go. His hands were in his pockets.

“Where to, miss?” the cab driver asked.