One Past Midnight (22 page)

The man smiled, and pointed to a sign above him: KEY COPYING $1.99 AND UP. “Do you have the key?”

I dipped my hand into Ethan's jacket pocket and pulled out the set of keys. I removed the one Ethan had used to open the window and passed it to the man.

“Just that one?” he asked.

The truth was, I would have liked them all. For all I knew, one of them was a key to the front door. But I couldn't risk the extra time. I nodded. At least a key to the window meant I could get out.

When I got back to the table, Ethan looked relieved to see me. I shrugged off his jacket and sat in my chair. “The ladies' bathroom is much more interesting here than at the hospital,” I said conversationally.

Ethan smiled, watching as I took a sip of my drink. “Go easy on that; it's the only one you're getting.”

I rolled my eyes, settling back and trying hard not to look out of breath. I'd run most of the return trip.

“Do you think it's a parallel world? Or another place, like another planet or something?” he asked, getting down to business.

“I don't know. It's just like here, only different. I'm different. The world is generally the same, but . . . I don't know how to explain it.”

“Would this place exist there?” he asked, looking around the bar.

“Maybe, maybe not. But even if it did, it'd be different. Maybe run by different owners. Sometimes it's like the worlds have the same general plan, like they've been mapped out or something, but then because the people are all different, everything has been interpreted differently. You know, build-ings, houses, schools . . . It's like everything is similar, but just not quite the same.” I tried not to look as nervous as I felt. I'd thought about this stuff for so long now, but I'd never tried to explain it to anyone.

“So you have different people around you?”

I nodded. “Every now and then I'll see someone in both worlds. It's weird. I call it a glitch. But I've never met anyone like me—anyone who knows they're living two lives.”

He let this sink in. “So maybe we all live two lives, but
we have no memories of the days between midnight. Maybe some of us have several lives, but we don't know it—like a form of reincarnation, but we live all of our lives at once, until they all run out.”

“Like a cat has nine lives, you mean?”

“You tell me?”

I twirled my straw. “It's possible. I've wondered the same thing. Both of my lives are in Massachusetts, but it's a big world, so people could be doubling up all over the place.”

He smiled and leaned forward. “So maybe my other life is in California.” He looked as if he liked the idea.

“Yeah, or Scotland. You'd look interesting in a kilt.”

He laughed loudly. Which made me laugh too.

“Why are you so happy about that?”

His eyes lit up. “I like the idea that there's more to life. You know, that we go on. Have you ever considered that what's happening to you is a version of the afterlife—even a kind of heaven?”

My smile faded. “No, Ethan. I live this. It's not heaven. If anything, it's hell.”

“I'm sorry, Sabine. I didn't mean to imply it was easy. But I can't help but think, if this
is
happening to you, maybe it's for a reason. And maybe it could be amazing if you just . . . I don't know, accepted it.”

When he saw the look on my face, he quickly changed his tune. “Do you have a boyfriend in Wellesley?” he blurted,
and judging by his expression, I wasn't the only one surprised by the question.

“I . . . I . . . Why?” I asked. And why hadn't I just answered?

He bit down on his bottom lip and started toying with the condensation on his glass. “Just wondering.”

I stared into my near-empty drink. “Yes.”

“And I'm assuming, since Davis obviously thought he had a chance with you, you aren't seeing anyone in this world at the moment?”

“Um . . . no, I'm not. I don't think that would exactly be right.”

I could feel his eyes on me, studying me intently, before he nodded. “Do you love him?”

“Who? Dex?” I asked, startled by the question.

“If that's his name,
Dex
.” He said the word like he already knew him and didn't like him. For some twisted reason, I liked that.

When I didn't answer he raised his eyebrows, prompting me.

“Ethan, I . . . It's different there.” I looked down at myself, at my miniskirt and tight T-shirt. “
I'm
different. Dex is . . . he's good to me and we're a good match.”

Ethan's voice moved down a gear, his eyes narrowing. “You didn't answer the question, Sabine. Do you love him?”

I suddenly felt defensive of my Wellesley life. “Why are you asking, anyway?”

He was still, his chin now resting in his hand, his gaze piercing its way into me. When he answered, it felt like his eyes were saying something completely at odds with his words. “Just curious.”

Caught in his gaze, it took me a moment to remember myself. “I'll answer you if you answer two of my questions first.” I couldn't let this guy get the upper hand, beauti-ful lips or not. I had to remember that I needed to protect myself.

He leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest. “Shoot.”

“Do you believe me?”

He took a sip of his drink and put it down, his eyes never leaving mine. “God help me, I think I might be starting to. But I'm still going to ask you to do things for me, keep proving it to me, if that's okay. Thing is . . . I think I like the idea too much
not
to believe you.”

I felt a sudden rush of tears. It wasn't a declaration of belief, but it was a start.

“And two?”

I swallowed, my nerves returning. “Are you my nurse, Ethan? Or is this something else—are we friends? Are we . . . ? Or is this just nurse–patient stuff?”

Ethan studied his hands. When he looked up, his eyes were pensive. “Technically I do some night nursing at the hospital, like a night supervisor, I suppose. As for whether
this is nurse–patient stuff . . . It should be. But nothing about this is normal.” He gestured to the drink he'd bought me and then to the bar. “Look around—does this look like a nurse–patient environment?”

“No.”

He nodded as if that answered everything. Which of course it didn't.

“So now answer
my
question,” he said.

The words were out of my mouth before I knew it. “I count when he kisses me. Every time, except once . . . I've never been able to get past ten seconds very successfully.” I glanced up. He was looking right at me.

“Why are you with him if he makes you feel like that?”

“Because he's . . . Dex. And in that world, all I ever wanted was to be his girlfriend. He's perfect for me.”

“Sounds ideal,” he said drily.

My eyes narrowed. “He is.”

Ethan wasn't deterred. “What happened that one time?”

“Sorry?” I asked.

“When you stopped counting?”

“Oh, I was thinking of someone . . . something else.”

Ethan's teeth played with his bottom lip again and my insides flipped. I knew what he was about to ask, the next obvious question. What would he say if I told him I'd been thinking about him? Could there be a chance . . . ? But then I remembered the plan. Everything I'd been working toward:
Dex, graduation night, my future in Wellesley. I spoke quickly before Ethan could.

“Dex is good to me. He . . . he's my future. After graduation night everything will be easier with him—and for me.”

“What do you mean?” he asked, sitting back.

I shrugged. “We . . . we've made plans,” I said uncom-fortably.

Ethan's jaw clenched tightly and I cursed my rambling mouth. He knew exactly what I meant.

“Oh. Right. Sounds magical. Hope you can count that high.” He looked at his watch. “We should get you back.”

Deflated, I nodded and followed him out of the bar. We walked in silence until Ethan stopped a block away from the hospital and leaned against a wall, folding over at his waist to brace his hands on his knees.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

“Just a headache.” He pushed off the wall. “Let's go.”

We continued the walk silently, but I noticed the pace was considerably slower.

When we reached the open window Ethan helped me in and then followed, locking the security grille behind him.

“Night, Sabine,” he said quickly. He walked toward the door without looking back.

“Good night, Ethan,” I replied, but he was already gone.

Whatever Ethan had written in his report, I figured I owed him one. I was still escorted everywhere by Macie, but it seemed the reins had been loosened. Bathroom visits now included locked-door privacy, though time restricted, and I was allowed to eat my meals with the “general community.”

Unfortunately my hopes of finding a kindred soul—someone who would give me the inside gossip, show me the secret tunnels, and sneak me into Dr. Levi's office to search through and destroy my files—were short-lived.

My table of lunch companions included an elderly woman, Daisy, with lollipop-pink lipstick—which wasn't just on her lips. Her lunch was entirely liquid and her only words were to tell me there was a butterfly hatching out of my ear. I assumed she was from the top floor. Next to her was an overweight guy, Gus, who was probably about my age and didn't even look up from his PSP long enough to say
hello. We'd passed each other in the halls, so I knew he was from my floor. I watched him for a while, interested in his ability to shovel food into his mouth without ever looking away from his game.

My final lunch buddy was a slender girl, Abigail, who was younger than I am, fifteen at most. I found it hardest to look at her. Something or someone had yanked out all the hair from one side of her scalp, leaving weeping flesh exposed. When she took a few, very measured mouthfuls of food, I could see other exposed wounds up and down her arms, as if the skin had literally been scraped off. I had an awful feeling Abigail's injuries were self-inflicted. No wonder Ethan had been so angry to see my cuts.

Dr. Levi had sent a message that morning asking to reschedule our daily appointment to 2:00 p.m., so after lunch I headed to his office. When I knocked and opened the door, he was on the phone. He gestured for me to take a seat in one of the cane chairs. I moved across the room awkwardly and then made the decision to go ahead and drag the chair to the same spot by the window.

“You should be resting,” Dr. Levi said into the phone. Then, “You do know you have nothing to prove to anyone . . .” He glanced at me. “Okay, fine . . . If that's what you want, but I'll be back up soon and I'm arranging for Dr. Milton to stop by.” He hung up, a worried expression shadowing his features before he seemed to snap out of it.

“Hello, Sabine. How are you today?”

“Fine,” I said, settling into my position and closing my eyes toward the sun.

He sighed. “I thought we were going to try to do some of that talking and listening today.”

I hiked my legs up onto the windowsill. “I talked to Ethan.”

“He mentioned that. But he's not the only one you can talk to.”

“Don't see any point in explaining myself again. It's a waste of time.”

“Well, judging from his report you didn't say a great deal.”

I felt my heart skip a beat. Had Ethan kept our conversation last night private? It was hard to suppress the smile. I shrugged for Levi's benefit.

His next words weren't what I was expecting. “Want to play darts?”

I opened my eyes and looked at him. “Are you sure I can be trusted with sharp objects?”

“Not entirely,” he answered, even as he held the darts out to me.

I couldn't stop the grin. I knew it was probably some therapy technique, but I'd always wanted to try playing darts. Levi stood in the middle of the room, his dated suit and glasses making him look older than he probably was—I
guessed he was around forty-five. I could see why people liked him and would want to talk to him when they had problems. In some ways, I wished it were that simple for me. But I also knew Levi was a man of logic—it was how he brought people around. He needed that logic as the foundation of everything he did, and I wasn't going to be the one to take that away from him. But darts . . . ?

I stood up and took them from his outstretched hand. “What the hell.”

“Indeed.”

I was edgy with anticipation. I'd always associated this level of anxiety with the Shift, but this wasn't the same kind of fear. And yet, counting down the minutes to Ethan's arrival seemed just as nerve-racking. It was hard to make sense of everything that had happened in the early-morning hours with him. I didn't know if he would be happy to see me tonight or not. Mostly I just wanted to see his face.

When he finally opened my door, I'd been waiting so long I'd almost accepted he wasn't coming. But then my eyes met his and something inside me relaxed. I couldn't be sure, but I thought maybe something in him did too.