One Past Midnight (23 page)

He held out a coat draped over his arm. “So you don't get cold.”

I beamed. “Where are we going?”

“To the park.”

“At night?” I took the coat and slipped it on. I could tell it was his. It had his wintergreen scent, and I had to stop myself from nestling my face into the fabric.

“It's my favorite place, day or night.”

My heart leaped at the thought of Ethan taking me somewhere that was special to him. As if he wanted to share it with me.

Just like he had in the early hours of that morning, Ethan unlocked the window and we slipped outside. I was now grateful for my ground-floor room—and the easy access to the parking lot. Ethan walked straight up to a car, an old-model silver Jeep covered in dry leaves, and opened the passenger door.

“Don't drive much?” I asked, looking at the state of the Jeep.

He shrugged. “I live nearby, so I hardly use it. Levi lets me park it here.”

I jumped in and before I knew it we were driving through Boston. The relief was so immense, I actually groaned.

“What is it?” he asked, glancing between the road and me.

“Oh, nothing. I just love driving—the freedom. I like the idea that you could put all of your stuff in a car one day and drive until you wanted to stop.”

He nodded, like he totally understood.

I wasn't sure where we were going until he parked on Arlington Street. “The Public Garden?”

He smiled, jumped out of the car, and came around to open my door. The garden was part of the central city parklands in Boston. I'd never been there; it was visited mostly by tourists or inner-city workers during their lunch break. But I followed Ethan as he led the way over the waist-high gate and into the park. He stopped near a large weeping willow by the lagoon and started to shake out a blanket.

“Aren't we prepared?” I teased, noticing he had a whole bag of supplies.

“I come here a lot.”

I looked around. “Is it safe here this late?”

He kept unloading things, creating a small picnic for us. “There are some homeless people around, but I give them some money or food now and then and they never bother me. We're safe.”

It certainly seemed as if we had the park to ourselves. It was amazing—the lights of the city bouncing off the lagoon and highlighting the vibrant green foliage of the willow, its leaves just grazing the water's edge. The famous swan boats that drew in all the tourists were tied up for the night, their craning white necks turned toward us, while the glowing white lamps above the suspended footbridge completed the fairy-tale effect. And there I was, in the middle of Boston. With Ethan. I felt the oddest sensation then; this
scene didn't belong in either one of my lives. And yet, it felt right.

He motioned for me to sit, and when I did he draped another blanket over my shoulders. “Just in case.”

But then he sat down and I noticed that he was the one who looked as if he needed a blanket. His eyes were dark and he looked tired.

“Are you sick?” I asked.

“I'm fine. I just get bad migraines. It's annoying; everyone's always telling me to rest.” He looked out over the lagoon as a family of ducks paddled by.

“Maybe this wasn't such a good idea.”

He smiled and my breath caught as the light hit the perfect angle on his face. It was getting harder to ignore that he was utterly gorgeous.

“You think I'd be better off staring into the hospital's fluorescent lights with a headache?” he asked, looking amused as he noticed the way I was staring at him.

“I guess not.” I averted my eyes and leaned back on my elbows. “Aren't you going to get into trouble if someone catches us?”

“Probably.”

“Doesn't that worry you?”

“I guess I think some things are more important than just following the rules.” He glanced at me with a raised eyebrow. “And you don't seem to fit into any guidelines anyway.”

I blushed, pleased he didn't just view me as one of the patients. “What do you do in the daytime?” I continued as I wriggled to make myself more comfortable.

He lay back beside me, putting his arms under his head. “This and that.”

“That's kind of vague. Family? Friends?” I prompted, eager to know more about him.

“No brothers or sisters, and I spend all my time at the hospital, so I guess most of my friends are there. I keep in touch with some college friends, but not as much as I'd like to.”

I was surprised he seemed so isolated, but somehow it only made me feel closer to him. Still, I couldn't help thinking Ethan had his own fair share of secrets. “Parents?” I asked.

I saw the pain cloud his eyes before he quickly turned his attention back to the lagoon. “House fire three years ago. I was away on a camping trip with my girlfriend at the time.” He cleared his throat. “No one could even contact me. I didn't find out they were gone until four days after.”

My heart sank for him. It also explained a lot. I wanted to tell him how sorry I was, but it seemed such a hollow sentiment. “That's why you're so . . . Why you care about . . .”

He raised an eyebrow again. “Whether you live or die?”

I grimaced, but nodded.

“Partly,” he responded, pulling out a piece of paper from his pocket. “Before I forget.”

He was changing the subject. I looked at the list and held back the sigh. More of the same. Languages and chemical questions mostly, for which I was grateful. At least I didn't have to work out any long mathematical equations. I memorized the list, and when I tucked it away I grabbed hold of Ethan's wrist, turning it to see the time. Eleven p.m. I bit the inside of my cheek nervously.

“It's to the second, I promise,” he said.

Despite the deception of the previous night, I believed him.

“Will you stay out here, with me? While you . . . At midnight, I mean.” He still couldn't say the word “shift”—it would mean he believed me, when clearly he was still making up his mind.

Normally I hated being around people when I shifted. Hated being somewhere unfamiliar. But tonight . . . tonight I found myself nodding, which seemed to please Ethan greatly.

“What happened to your girlfriend?” I asked at one point.

I saw his smirk from the corner of my eye. “She wasn't for me.”

“So you have a type then?” I asked, teasing despite my racing heart.

He tilted his head toward me, amusement playing in his eyes. “No, I've always been more interested in finding a one of a kind.”

I bit back a smile, but he still caught it, and I heard his soft chuckle.

We stared up at the sky, talking every now and then. Ethan asked questions but didn't bombard me or push his views or judgments on me . . . too much. For the first time in my life—
either
of them—I felt like I could talk about my lives honestly. And each time I touched his wrist he raised his arm to show me the time, as if we'd always done this.

I tried to keep my cool, but a few minutes before midnight I couldn't hold back the trembling. Ethan didn't say anything, he just reached over and took my hand in his. And as I shifted, I found myself hoping he might never let go.

For the next few days I did everything Ethan asked, sneaking off during my lunch breaks in Wellesley to find the answers to his questions on the Internet. I even managed to find a semi-reliable translation program for the languages. I went back and forth between my worlds, maintaining appearances in Wellesley and giving Ethan all the evidence he'd requested.

Each time I shifted back to Roxbury, he was there, holding my hand, anchoring me. Each time he watched me intently, looking for something. I don't know what. The night after the park, we went to a late-night café, but I suggested we go back to the garden the following night. He seemed happiest there.

Ethan asked me lots of questions. Some I could answer and some I couldn't, and for some . . . there wasn't an answer he wanted to hear. He just couldn't accept that I didn't believe there was a way to live in both worlds happily.

We were lying under our weeping willow on Friday night and I'd just shifted back from Wellesley and recited my answers—once again, all flawless—when I finally snapped.

“What would you have me do, Ethan? What's supposed to happen if I get married one day? Have
kids
! Am I supposed to do that in both worlds? Leave my children behind every day and go to a new family? Never tell anyone who I really am?
Love
two different people?”

Ethan rolled onto his side and looked into my eyes, gently wiping away the tear sliding down my cheek.

“I don't know. No. Probably not. If you love one person, you love them fully, or there's no point. Then again . . .” he trailed off.

“Then again,
what
?” I sniped.

“You're the one who seems to think that when you're with someone you can't kiss for longer than ten seconds, the thing to do is stay and, how did you put it,
make plans
.”

I shook my head at him, but couldn't manage a response. Why did he care so much anyway?

“Maybe you could find the same person in both worlds,” he suggested, but he seemed to be sharing in my sadness now.

“It's unlikely, Ethan. And anyway, even if I did, there's
no guarantee they would be the same or . . . argh!” It was impossible to explain.

He bit his lip, thinking, and I couldn't help staring while it slowly slipped out from under his teeth.

“Sabine, have you ever seen me there?” he asked hesitantly.

“No.”

“Didn't think so.”

“Why do you say that?”

He shrugged, still looking at me closely. “I think I'd know if I'd met you before. I mean on some level, even if I didn't remember exactly, part of me, I guess my soul, would know deep down.”

“Maybe.” But I wasn't sure I agreed with that. I'd seen people in both worlds before, like fruit-stand guy—people who would surely recognize me if they knew on “some level.”

“You
are
pretty annoying. That kind of sticks with someone,” he said with a smirk.

“Then I definitely haven't met you in my other life.”

He laughed before settling back down beside me, both of us watching the willow branches sway in the predawn breeze.

“Sabine?” he said softly.

“Hmm?”

“The choice you've been considering . . . Have you made up your mind?”

The question threw me. I'd thought I had. But saying so to Ethan felt wrong. I couldn't explain to him how this was
my one chance to have the life I'd always wanted. This could be my one chance to actually live.

I sighed. “Ethan, don't.”

“Yes, then.” It was his turn to sigh. “Won't it be hard to leave everyone? Your family, Maddie, Capri? Don't you want to be here for them—be a part of their futures?”

I sat up, not looking at him. “You didn't put yourself on that list.”

He sat up quickly, grabbed me by the shoulders, and spun me toward him. “Listen to me. This is not about me! This is a choice you have to make for you. It doesn't matter how much I . . . It has to be about other things. Not me, Sabine.
Not
me
.”

I recoiled, pulling myself out of his grasp. I was so shocked, I just sat there, frozen. So hurt. Utterly embarrassed.

Finally, when neither one of us said anything, I stood up. “Sun will be up soon. You should take me back.” I started walking toward the car so he wouldn't see my face.

When we got back to my room I went straight to the bathroom to change for bed. I couldn't believe I'd made such a fool of myself. There I was, sneaking out with Ethan every night, thinking maybe there was something between us, something more than I'd dared to even hope for . . . But there wasn't. He didn't want to be part of my world.
Not me
, he'd said. He didn't even want to be a consideration.

I'd let myself get carried away.

I stared at my reflection in the bathroom mirror, angry that I'd allowed myself to be derailed so badly. If I'd been more focused on what I should've been doing, maybe everything would have been sorted out by now. Instead of focusing on Ethan, I should've been concentrating on my plan. I still had no idea how I was going to make everything work.

“Especially since I'm stuck in this shit hole!” I cried to myself, leaning against the sink.

When I got back to my room, I was surprised to see Ethan still there, sitting in the chair, head in his hands.

I climbed silently into bed and rolled over, turning my back to him. “I'm tired, Ethan.”

“Your graduation is coming up, isn't it?”

I didn't answer.

“You said the other day that after graduation everything would be better. You didn't just mean you and Dex, did you? It's
all
gearing up toward then, isn't it? So how does it work—does this life end before or after graduation day in your other life?”

I took a deep breath, trying not to give away the fact that I was crying. “After,” I admitted.

“You've got it all worked out. You and Dex will be together, you'll tie up any loose ends in this world and get your one life. All your dreams will come true.” His words were heavy with accusation.

I couldn't stand it anymore. “It's the only dream I have!
But thanks for understanding. I get it now, Ethan. I can see how little you think of me. How pathetic I must seem. I should've realized sooner and then I wouldn't have . . .”

He was on his feet and by my bed. “Wouldn't have what?”

I shook my head and buried my tear-streaked face in the pillow. “Just go, Ethan.”

I heard the door close behind him.