Exit Light (28 page)

“Wake up, Edward!” Tovah cried. Pain twisted in her guts. “Just wake up! All you have to do is wake up.”

Edward looked at her, taking on one, final face. The shifting features halted, each finding its place. She recognized nothing about him. He’d become a stranger again.

“I’m not asleep,” said Edward.

The water consumed him.

As he disappeared inside it, Tovah shaped the meadow closed, faster than she’d ever shaped it before. Without walls, ceiling or floor it didn’t look like a prison, but it had become one just the same. She was on the outside, looking in to what had been her favorite place, her own haven, the one place in both her worlds that had been hers alone. Her private dream within a dream.

Giving it up hurt worse than climbing the mountain of glass had, but she did it in the span of two heartbeats. It left her aching and bruised, every breath a fire in her lungs until she remembered to shape the pain away.

But there was another agony she could not shape away.

“Ben?” Tovah ran to him. She cradled him, watching her tears splash his face. This was as real as anything she’d ever known. She bent to kiss him, hoping to open his eyes.

It worked. Ben’s eyes fluttered open and he sat up so fast he knocked his head against her chin. Tovah tasted blood but only for the second it took to shape it away, and the sting with it.

“Are you all right?”

She nodded, looking around. In the distance she saw a family on a picnic. Her dreamscape had altered a little. She felt the tug and pull of the collective will, felt the desire of someone not too far away looking for a guide, and she didn’t block it off. Not right away.

“I thought you were gone, too.” Her arms tightened around him, squeezing. Tovah buried her face into the side of Ben’s neck, breathing him in. “I thought he’d killed you, too.”

Ben’s embrace warmed her as he rocked her slightly into place on his lap. “No. I’m still here. I’m right here.”

His tears wet her shoulder, and her own fell faster. “I don’t want to lose you, Ben.”

“You won’t lose me, Tovah.” He pulled away to look into her eyes. “I promise.”

He kissed her, slow and certain. Her mouth parted, accepting the probe of his tongue as his hands slid up her back to tangle in her hair. Strong fingers massaged the base of her skull. Ben pulled her closer until she straddled him. He broke the kiss to press his face to the hollow of her throat. The heat of his tongue flicked her there, and Tovah shivered.

“I promise,” Ben whispered.

Tovah curled against him. Pain pricked her all over, but deep inside it was worse. Harder, somehow. Stronger. She’d ruined something inside.

“I—” She began to speak, but Ben’s lips stopped her words.

“Find me,” he told her. “Out there. Find me, Tovah.”

There was no more time for them now. She kissed Ben again, their mutual longing not enough to keep her there when the waking world plucked so fervently at her sleeve. She didn’t want to leave him, to face the loss of Henry in the waking world alone. She didn’t want to face the loss all over again, but steeled herself for it by stealing one more kiss to bolster her until she could dream again.

“Find me,” Ben said again. “My name…my name is what I’ve always been.”

It was that way, here. Words scrambled, clocks never told the right time. Truth refused to be told.

“I’ll find you,” she promised, and reached for him again.

She’d thought she was being shaken awake, but it was the thunder of feet on tile floors that had done it. Tovah’s eyes flew open as her chair was shoved aside to make room for the nurses flocking to Henry’s bed. An orderly banged into her stump and she cried out, but the man didn’t do more than glance in her direction.

Tovah shoved the floor with her foot, pushing the chair out of the way. It didn’t have far to go, and she banged into the wall with a thud that wracked her leg again, but she bit down on the pain. She saw Martin bent over Henry’s still form.

The team worked swiftly in a seamless, too-often-performed dance. Martin gave orders without the barking arrogance Tovah had seen in too many doctors. He moved with confidence, only once looking up at her across Henry’s body.

Whatever he saw on her face made him look away at once.

“Call it,” he said, looking at the clock on the wall, the one upon which the numbers stubbornly refused to shift. “He’s gone.”

And though she already knew that was the truth, Tovah began to weep.

“Why did you even wait so long?” Kelly plumped Tovah’s pillows and settled the tray more steadily on her lap. “Jeeze, girl, you’re gonna give me a complex.”

“I didn’t want to be a bother.” Tovah’s stomach grumbled at the aroma of the soup Kelly had made for her.

Her friend had picked Tovah up at the hospital, driven her home, fed the dog, tossed in a load of laundry and helped Tovah change the bandages on her leg, not even flinching at the sight of the bruises and scrapes. And bless her, Kelly hadn’t asked why Tovah hadn’t asked Dr. Feelgood for a ride.

Kelly snorted. “It’s not a bother, Tovah. God. What sort of shitty friend would I be not to help you out?”

“You’re not—”

“Exactly.” Kelly patted her shoulder. Beside her on the floor, Max snuffed happily. She’d fed him. He would be her friend for life. “So shut up and eat your soup.”

Tovah had told Kelly an abbreviated version of the story—her fall, the late-night phone call and Henry’s passing. Though she could tell Kelly wanted to ask more questions, she didn’t, and Tovah was grateful.

“It’s almost time for
Runner,
isn’t it?” Tovah pointed to the remote in its caddy on top of the television.

“You sure you want to watch with me?” Kelly made a little face. “I tend to squee.”

Tovah’s laugh was a welcome surprise, perhaps to them both. “I’d never have guessed.”

Tovah had watched only a few episodes, but the premise wasn’t difficult to follow, the dialogue was alternatingly clever and poignant, and the characterization well developed. A combination of the sci-fi classic
Logan’s Run
and the more modern
Running Man
by Stephen King intermingled with a healthy dose of urban legends and vintage
X-Files,
it was a program Tovah would have loved from the beginning even if she’d never saved Justin Ross from a horde of dildo-waving zombies.

“Hey,” said Kelly softly, reaching for the box of tissues and handing her one.

The tears had slipped silently down her cheeks without her noticing. Tovah took the tissue and swiped at her face. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Kelly turned the volume down a little bit and twisted her body on the couch to face Tovah. “I’m sorry about your friend.”

Tovah accepted the sentiment with a nod. “He was a good guy. And…I’m going to miss him very much.”

Outside the window the yard flashed with brightness glaring enough to turn Kelly’s head. “Was that lightning?”

Tovah’s head had turned as well, but she knew it wasn’t an oncoming storm. “No. That’s my neighbor’s floodlight.”

“Dr. Feelgood’s floodlight?” Kelly leaned over and pushed aside the slats of Tovah’s blinds to peer into the back yard.

Tovah’s throat constricted again, but she didn’t cry this time. “Yes.”

“So he must be home.” Kelly shifted again, looking harder. “Dammit, I can’t see him.” She turned to look back at Tovah. “You never said what’s going on with him, by the way.”

“That’s because…nothing is.”

It wasn’t the right time to talk about it, even if she knew what to say.

Kelly studied her intently. “You don’t look like there was nothing.”

Tovah sighed, looking down at her hands clutching the shredded tissue. “I don’t know about him, Kelly.”

“About him? Or about yourself?”

“Isn’t that always the question?” Tovah shrugged. “I don’t know.”

Kelly couldn’t stay forever, but Max refused to leave Tovah’s side, not even for the freedom of the yard outside. Tovah leaned on the enormous dog as she collapsed on the couch, where the pillows soaked up her tears as she sobbed until her throat was raw.

When the phone rang fifteen minutes later, she answered it by fumbling blindly for the handset on the table next to the couch. Though the phone displayed the name and number of the caller, Tovah didn’t bother to look, just croaked a hoarse greeting. There was silence.

She sat up a little higher. “Hello? Who’s this?”

“Is this…Tovah?”

“Yes.” Tovah snatched up the box of tissues and pressed one to her eyes and nose. It disintegrated almost at once and she took another. “Who’s this?”

At the next long silence, Tovah looked at the handset. The number and name had come through as Unknown, a call she normally wouldn’t have answered, anyway. She was just about to hang up when the woman on the line spoke.

“I’m calling about Kevin.”

Tovah sat up straighter. An image of Kevin falling sliced through her and sickness lurched to her throat. “Is he all right?”

She cursed the fresh bout of silence broken only by the soft sound of the woman struggling to speak.

Tovah gripped the handset tighter. “Is he all right?”

“He’s going to be fine. He had a scare, but he’s going to be fine. He asked me to call you.”

Tovah had no patience for petty games. “A scare? What does that mean? Who’s this?”

“This is Jennifer.” The soft sniffling turned to a much colder tone. “His fiancée.”

Tovah had no strength for a pissing contest, so she kept her voice calm because of that. “What happened to Kevin, Jennifer?”

“He was hospitalized with arrhythmia. We thought he was having a heart attack!” She said it as though Tovah should take the blame, though she could have no clue how much Tovah had actually been involved.

“But he’s fine?”

“Yes. They think so. They’re keeping him overnight for observation and to run some tests, see if there was any permanent damage to his heart.”

Jennifer sounded tired, and though Tovah had no love for the other woman, she did manage to dredge up some sympathy. “I’m sure you must have been worried.”

This time the silence crackled with anger. When Jennifer spoke it was in clipped, sharp-edged tones. “He wanted me to tell you he was sorry, and that he was going to withdraw pursuing the settlement.”

Old resentment surged forth, making her bite down, hard. “He couldn’t tell me himself?”

“He was intubated. It hurts him to talk. He had…he had to write it down…and he was on heavy medication at the time!” This last came out with the force of defensiveness.

Of course Jennifer would be unhappy to watch her future husband toss away what promised to be a sizeable amount of money to his ex-wife. What she couldn’t know was how frightened Kevin must have been to do it. Tovah knew.

“Well.” Tovah cleared her throat and wiped her face. She tried hard to find happiness that Kevin had not died, but against the blinding loss of Spider, she found no joy for Kevin. “I’m glad to hear that he’ll be fine.”

“We just want to get married!” Jennifer’s voice had gone high and thready. In the background, Tovah heard the thin wail of their child.

“And I just want to get divorced,” Tovah answered steadily.

Another long silence. Tovah didn’t break it—this was not a conversation she wanted to own. Jennifer sniffled loudly into the phone, then hung up. The sound of the dial tone was very loud.

Tovah thumbed the disconnect button and fell back onto the pillows. She waited for a fresh bout of tears but had apparently run herself dry. Max pushed his head into her hand in a familiar ploy for her to feed him. Tovah looked into the kitchen, where the dog had dumped his empty bowls. She looked down at her sleep-rumpled clothes and touched her limb carefully. She looked again at the kitchen, and the distance.

“I can’t do it,” she told the dog. “I’m sorry, Max. I just can’t do it.”

And then she realized she wasn’t done with her tears, after all.

It was a week before she could fit her prosthetic over her stump again. The pain had gone away faster than the swelling, and though she might have risked padding the socket of her leg in order to get back on her feet sooner, the worry she might take another tumble had kept her on the crutches for a few days longer.

She didn’t begin to know where to search for Ben. She knew his face, the smell of him, the weight of his mouth. She knew his first name, but not his last.

He’d said he was what he’d always been, but what was that? A guide, an Eagle Scout? Even with the vastness of the Internet at her fingertips, she had no way of knowing where to begin, and though she forced herself to sleep every night and looked for him, the Ephemeros had gone dark and silent in the aftermath of what had been done to it. She was afraid to shake it more, afraid it would break for good.

She didn’t see Martin again until the funeral. Henry Tuckens had no family who seemed willing to come forward to plan the simple service Tovah knew he’d have wanted. There hadn’t been much money to put toward a fancy casket or pay for a lunch after, but then again there hadn’t been many people to feed.

A hard recent frost and the layer of snow meant Henry would be interred in the cemetery’s mausoleum until warmer weather allowed a grave to be dug, and the brief ceremony took place there rather than at the as-yet nonexistent grave site. Tovah had met Father Halloran a few times at the Sisters of Mercy. Henry had liked him.

The crowd was small. Ava had made it, and Marco. A frail woman in an oversized coat hung toward the back of the group, chain-smoking. Tovah’s throat closed at the smell of the cigarettes. The woman, who wore Henry’s features with less grace than he had, didn’t linger. Tovah didn’t get to ask who she was.

Now, the service finished and Henry’s body tucked away inside the vault, the crowd dispersed. Tovah thanked Father Halloran and slipped him an envelope that he took without comment. She turned to make her final goodbyes to her friend, grateful for the privacy she now had in which to weep.

“Hello, Tovah.”

At the sound of Martin’s voice, she turned. Martin, shoulders hunched inside a long black wool coat, had his hands shoved into his pockets. The chill wind had blushed his cheeks, and his eyes watered from the sting of it. He blinked at her.

“Martin.” She didn’t know what else to say. She hadn’t seen him since the night Henry died. She’d seen lights on in his house and heard the putter of his car as he drove away in the mornings, but that was all.

It felt wrong to cry against him, so she didn’t. Tovah forced her tears back and scrubbed her face with the handful of tissues she was never without these days. Her upper lip had rubbed almost raw. She looked a mess…and didn’t care, which said a lot about
how
she felt about Martin, if not exactly
what.

“I wasn’t sure you’d be here,” she said.

Martin’s eyes remained shuttered, his face neutral. She didn’t blame him. She’d really taken him for a ride.

“I had to come,” he said without further explanation.

She didn’t deserve one, and the way he said it made her feel stupid for doubting him. “Of course. I’m sorry.”

She was sorry for many things, the dissolution of their friendship not the least. He’d kissed her, and she’d let him. Had even encouraged him, then pushed him away without explanation, and what good reason could she really give him? “There’s someone else” didn’t really fit, did it, when she’d only ever met the other person in a world to which she couldn’t bring herself to return?

“The service was very nice.” Martin looked around briefly. “I didn’t know Henry was a veteran.”

“I don’t think he told many people.” Tovah had known only because of Spider. Henry had never mentioned it in the waking world.

“He could have gone to a veteran’s hospital. Had benefits.” Martin looked around again at the cemetery’s rolling hills, the grass tipped with white. “He could have had better treatment than just a nice plot in a government cemetery.”

“He had good treatment at the Sisters of Mercy.” Tovah’s quiet vehemence turned Martin’s head. “From you.”

It was too cold for silence to hang between them, too frigid to stand and share a poignant moment. Neither of them moved. Tovah’s fingertips were getting numb.

“Thank you,” Martin said at last. “That means a lot.”

Why couldn’t it be Martin, she thought suddenly, fiercely. Why couldn’t she fall in love with this decent man who took such care of everyone around him and asked for none, himself?

Why not me?
Edward had asked, and she shuddered at the memory.

“You’re cold. You should get inside.” Martin looked up the slight hill to the parking lot where her car and his sat side by side.

“Yes. You too.”

Together they walked up the sidewalk. The slope was just enough that she had to concentrate extra hard on every step. There was no ice, but she could still slip. Martin didn’t offer his arm, and Tovah didn’t ask for it.

They had spent many moments without speaking and more than a few enmeshed in awkwardness, but it poked her more keenly today. This was her fault, and she didn’t know how to fix it. She didn’t know if she ought to try.

Deep breath.

“Would you…like to get some coffee with me?” The question wasn’t a new one, the act of asking it not real bravery.

Martin looked at her without expression. “No.”

Tovah flinched.

Martin had pulled his car into the spot next to hers but in the opposite direction, so opening their drivers’ side doors put them within inches of one another. Martin slid into his seat without effort, while Tovah prepared to do the balancing act required for her to get behind the wheel without falling into her seat. She was glad for the focus, today. It kept her from looking at him.

Martin’s hand stopped her door before she could close it, and she looked up at him, surprised. She hadn’t noticed him get out of the car. “Martin?”

“What were you really trying to do?” he asked seriously. Intent. His gaze probed hers. “With Henry,” he added, saving her from guessing if he’d meant with him.

“It’s complicated, Martin.” Complicated and pointless to try and explain, since Tovah wasn’t certain she’d ever do anything like it again.

He nodded like her answer hadn’t surprised him. “Tell me, anyway.”

A burst of wind pushed against him. The frigid sting slapped Tovah even within the shelter of her car. She could imagine how it felt to Martin, but he didn’t flinch. His bare hand gripped the cold metal of her car door. His fingers had turned red.

“It has to do with…dreams.”

He lost the neutrality he must have been forcing and pushed away from her car with a grimace she thought was disgust. A low noise burst from his throat. Not quite a laugh.