Gone (12 page)

And then she stops.

“Maybe I
could
still see Cabe,” she whispers.

She imagines it, spending candlelit dinners together here, or maybe lunch if he can get away from classes. Hanging out a few hours a day . . . making out and being together. Just not during sleeping hours.

It sounds good.

For about five minutes.

And then she thinks about years to come.

There’s no way they could ever live together.

There’d be no babies, no family unit, ever. Janie couldn’t risk that if she intends to keep her eyesight—having a dreaming child would totally wreck her. Besides, there’s no way Janie would pass this dream catcher curse along to anybody.

She’s okay with that.

But what does it mean for Cabe?

His future, in a nutshell:

• live elsewhere

• spend a couple hours a day hanging out at the shack

• never marry

• never have children

• never spend a night with the woman he loves

She pictures their time together, what it would be like, day in and day out. Stagnant. Cabel coming over for an obligatory two hours while he juggles school, his house, his job.

Janie knows it would be hell for Cabe.

It would be like visiting hours at Heather Home.

They’d end up talking about crossword puzzles and the weather.

And he’d do it too. He’d stay with her. Even though it would totally wreck his entire life.

That’s just the kind of guy he is.

Janie slams her fists down into the La-Z-Boy arms.

Lets her head fall back.

Whispers to the empty room,

“I can’t do that.”

9:30 p.m.

She looks through all Henry’s things. His business records. Notes to himself, grocery lists. Pamphlets on migraines. And online, a plethora of medical websites bookmarked, along with sites that offer ways to deal with pain.

She wonders, if he’d had insurance, and if they’d caught the tumor, or aneurysm, or whatever, early . . . if she’d still have him.

But she wouldn’t have met him, that way.

She thinks about him, pulling his hair out, clutching his head. The frozen look of agony on his face. Wonders if he’s still in so much pain, lying helpless in the county hospital, now. Thinks about how he begged her for help. She talks to the holistic words on the screen. “I wish I knew how to help you, Henry. I guess . . . I hope you just let go soon, so you can be done with it.”

Janie peels her warm, sticky thighs from the plastic kitchen chair seat and looks around the small living room. Imagines him here in this tiny, cozy house away from the noise, the people.

She walks over to the kitchen, where the box that Carrie found still sits on the countertop. Janie’s tempted to go through it. Go through the letters that very nearly beckon to her in the light breeze from the open window. But.

Two things.

She doesn’t want to read some intimate icky love letter written by her alcoholic, sorry excuse for a mother. And.

She doesn’t want to feel sorry for Henry more than she already does.

She’s had enough heartache, thanks very much. Enough trouble. Enough of just getting to know someone who understands, right before they go and die.

She’ll gladly take over things here. But she’s not going to love him. It’s too late for that. He’s too far gone. And she’s got enough heartache coming just around the corner.

Janie takes a deep breath. Shakes her head. Pushes the box back into the cupboard where Carrie found it.

She tidies up the house so it looks just like it did the first time she saw it. Turns off the computer and the lamp and stands there in the dark, listening to the quietness.
Wishing for it—wishing for this kind of peace in her life. And knowing now that she can have it, once Henry dies. This place where she can let down her guard. And live. Where she doesn’t have to worry about catching anybody’s dream.

Something deep inside her longs for it, more than the longings for anything else. Even Cabe.

Maybe it’s a survival technique.

Or maybe, as it’s been all along up until she met Cabe, she’s really just a loner. Will always be a loner.

It certainly looks that way.

And so she sits down again in the old chair, in the dark, in this sanctuary. Wondering what her life will hold. Wondering how she’ll care for her mother, and why she even has to—maybe Dorothea needs to fend for herself from now on. Maybe Janie’s just been enabling her all this time.

Living peacefully like this. Keeping her eyesight. She looks down at her fingers. They cast long shadows in the starlight from the open window. Janie wiggles her fingers and their shadows splash in her lap.

She smiles.

And though Captain will be disappointed, and will have to take the scholarship back, she knows Captain would never blame Janie for wanting to try to live a normal life. Janie knows deep down that it will all be okay.

She’ll miss seeing Captain and the guys. That’s sure.

“Well,” she says softly to her hands, flexing her fingers and clasping them together in her lap. “It’s decided. Isolation. My choice.”

God, it feels good to say it out loud.

Even though it’s a lot scary.

There’s just one last loose end that Janie’s got to tie up before she quits catching dreams altogether. One last puzzle to solve.

It seems fitting to end it this way.

Although it’s bound to be the worst one of her entire life.

Janie sucks in a deep breath and lets it escape, making her lips vibrate. She’s scared. More scared now to go back to the hospital than she was when she had to go to Durbin’s party. More scared than when that strange boy named Cabel first fell asleep in the school library and dreamed of a monster man with knives for fingers.

But.

But.

This is also Janie’s last chance to see, and say good-bye, once and for all, to Miss Stubin.

Close the door, as they say. It’s fucking painful to think about.

But Janie’s going to get through this, figure out how to help Henry, and get it done in one shot, even if it kills her.

Er . . .

Well, hopefully not “kills her.” That would ruin everything. Yeah.

Still Monday. 10:44 p.m.

It’s a long, dark walk to the bus stop. Heat lightning flashes in the sky. Thunder rumbles low and the humidity is thick. No rain, though.

Enough with the mosquitoes already.

Janie snacks on a sandwich and a PowerBar. Stocking up on energy, gearing up for a big night. Wondering if Henry is still alive, even.

11:28 p.m.

The hallways are quiet as usual and the doors are closed. Janie waves to Nurse Miguel and approaches the desk. “Anything new?”

Miguel shakes his head. “The doctor thinks it won’t be long now,” he says.

Janie nods. “I’m probably going to spend the night . . . just sit with him. Okay?”

“Sure thing, hon,” he says. He reaches down behind the counter. “Here’s a blanket in case you get cold. You probably know the chair reclines, right?”

Janie doesn’t know, but she nods anyway, taking the blanket. “Thank you.” She continues down the hallway to Henry’s room. Stands there for a moment, taking a few deep breaths. “This is it,” she says softly, and then she opens the door. Shuts it quickly behind her as she goes down.

It’s different this time.

This time, Janie is flung directly into the nightmare. She’s in a familiar spot as before, with Henry screaming out, “Help me! Help me!” again and again. He turns to Janie when she approaches and he continues to scream at her. A stoic Miss Stubin stands near Henry, waits patiently for it to end. Even in her divine state, if that’s what it is, she looks weary.

Janie doesn’t waste any time. “Henry!” she shouts. “I want to help you! I’m here to help you. But I don’t know what to do. Can you show me?”

There’s no stopping him.

Janie turns to Miss Stubin. “Why don’t you leave?”

“I can’t. Not until he’s ready to come with me.”

Janie groans, realizing now she’s not only responsible for her hysterical, nearly dead father’s peace, but her beloved Miss Stubin’s happiness as well. She puts her hands over her ears. Frustrated, growing frantic because of the yelling. It’s unnerving, really. And painful. Her whole body begins to ache.

Henry stands up and walks over to Janie and she steps back, tensing, worried that he’ll grab her, strangle her, but he doesn’t. “Help me! Help me!” He screams in her ear, making her bones rattle from the intense pitch. She moves and he follows her around. His voice is pleading. He gets on his knees and grasps Janie’s hand, tugging at her, crying out. Begging for help.

His voice grows ragged, out of control.

Janie doesn’t know what to do. She screams back at him, “Tell me what to do!”

Henry’s cries grow even louder.

Miss Stubin waits and watches, her eyes filled with pity. “I don’t think he can,” she says, but Janie can’t hear her.

Janie knows she can’t hold on much longer. She can’t move. Her physical body is gone from her, and her dream body screams out in its own pain. There’s nothing she can do for Henry . . . nothing.

Nothing she can think of.

She turns to Miss Stubin. “Can you try? Like last time?”

Miss Stubin nods. She approaches Henry. When she walks, it looks like she’s gliding effortlessly across the floor.

“Henry,” she says. She puts her hand on his shoulder.

His screams falter.

Miss Stubin concentrates. Talks to him with her mind. Calms him.

Henry’s ragged voice falls away.

Miss Stubin leads him back to his chair and beckons Janie to come.

“There,” Miss Stubin says, smiling. “It’s really a lot easier this way, Henry.”

Henry holds up handfuls of his hair. Shows them to Janie.

Janie nods. “Your head hurts, doesn’t it?”

“Yes,” he says, cringing, as if talking calmly is difficult for him. “Yes, it hurts.”

“I don’t know what to do,” Janie says. “Do you know how I can help you?”

Henry looks at Janie. He shakes his head. “I just want to die,” he says. “Please. Can you help me die?”

“I don’t know. I’ll . . . I’ll try. I can’t do anything illegal. You understand?”

He nods.

“Where are we?” Janie asks. “Is this your dream? This dark gymnasium? This is it?”

Henry stands up. “This way.” He beckons the other two
to follow. He pushes open the double doors that lead out of the gymnasium. They walk through, into a hallway. There are doors on both sides.

They go into the first room.

It’s a synagogue.

A boy convulses in his seat. His father, next to him, reprimands him.

“It’s you, the boy, isn’t it?” Janie asks.

“Yes.”

“A memory?”

“Sort of. That is my dream—my life, over and over.”

They go to the next classroom. People are lined up outside it. Henry, Miss Stubin, and Janie squeeze past the line of people and go inside. It’s a pizzeria. They walk past tables filled with people eating, laughing, to the kitchen, into the walk-in cooler. There, Henry leans in a corner with a girl. Kissing.

Janie stares. “Who is that?”

Henry looks at Janie. “That’s Dottie.”

“You mean Dorothea? Dorothea Hannagan?” Janie can’t get over it, even though she knew there was probably some kissing involved there somewhere.

“Yes.” He sighs. “The one true love of my life.”

Janie wants to gag.

Miss Stubin interrupts. “Tell us what happened, Henry. Between you and Janie’s mother. Will you?”

He looks tired. And it’s cold in there. “There’s not much to tell.”

“Please, Henry,” Janie says. She wants to hear him say it. Wants that validation that she’s doing the right thing.

“We worked together in Chicago one summer—she was in high school, I was at U of M. In the fall, I went back to Michigan. She quit school and followed me. We lived together. It was terrible. The dreams. I had to choose—be with her, miserable, or be able to function, alone.” He begins to pull at his hair again. “Oh, hell,” he says. “It’s coming back.”

“So you just left her to fend for herself? Did you know she was pregnant?”

“I didn’t know.” His voice grows louder, as if he’s trying to talk above the noises in his head. “Janie, I didn’t know. I’m sorry. I sent her money. She wouldn’t take it. I’m so sorry.” He squats down, head in his hands.

“Are you glad you did it? Glad you isolated yourself?” Janie gets down on the floor by him, anxious to get answers now.

“Help me,” he squeals. “Help me!” He grabs her T-shirt. “Please, Janie, Please please help me! Kill me! Please!”

Janie doesn’t know what to do. Miss Stubin tries desperately to calm him, but nothing works.

“Are you glad?” Janie shouts. “Are you? Was it the best choice?”

“There is no best. It’s Morton’s Fork.” He falls to the floor with a scream. “Help me! Oh, GOD. HELP ME!”

Janie looks at Miss Stubin in horror and sees the cracks in the scene. Pieces of the dream begin to fall away. She can hear the static in the distance. “Shit,” she says. “I can’t stay in this.”

“Go!” Miss Stubin says.

They clasp hands for a moment. Look into each other’s eyes, Janie desperately trying to communicate that she’s not coming back.

Not sure if it translates.

But it’s time to go, before she gets trapped here again.

Janie concentrates and with all her strength, bursts through the dream barrier.

As Janie lies on the floor, shaking, trying to move, trying to feel her skin, trying to see, all she can think about is the look on Miss Stubin’s face and the complete, hopeless desperation of Henry, overcome by his own demons.

Oh.

Miss Stubin.

What an awful way to say good-bye forever.

Slowly, exhausted, Janie pulls herself to the chair next to Henry’s bed. Her joints, even her teeth, ache, and she
wonders just what happens to her body when she’s in a nightmare like that.

But it doesn’t matter now.

She is done with them.

Janie wraps herself in the blanket to help stop her body from the uncontrollable shaking. She can barely stand to look at poor Henry’s twisted face. Sometime since she’d been here last, Henry pulled himself up into fetal position, hands fisted up by his head, as if to protect himself from the terrible unseen monsters that have taken him hostage. Janie reaches over to him. Touches his hand. Holds it.