The Phantom Limb (5 page)

“I'm a doctor,” Esther told her. Then she paused. “You look familiar. Have you worked at other hospitals?”

“A lot of people say that. I just have one of those faces,” Candi said. “Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got to see to some other patients.” She smiled at them all as she left the room.

“So you're a doctor?” Vera said.

“Well, used to be. Retired now,” Esther said. “I'm sure I've seen that nurse somewhere …”

“Maybe here in the hospital,” Vera suggested.

“No, I don't think so,” Esther said. “Oh, I don't know.”

Isaac was relieved to finally leave the hospital. While he was riding to school on his bike, all of his worries came to a head: school and the Fitzpatrick twins, his mother's illness, Grandpa and that box. The thoughts sat in his stomach like a lump of lead. He decided he couldn't face school, so he headed home.

At home, he thought about the mirror box. What would happen the next time he put his arms in? He was scared … but he was more curious than anything. He reasoned that since it was now the middle of the day—and not the middle of the night—he could experiment with it again. He suddenly felt wide awake and alert. Anything that happened now had to be real, not the result of fatigue or his imagination.

Isaac remembered the way the hand in the mirror had shown him the woven smiley face and then had waved at him.
Was
it mocking him, just like the twins? Or was it trying to tell him something?

His heart began to speed up as he ascended the stairs and went into his room. He was hoping more than anything that the hand in the mirror wasn't real. He had too many things to worry about already—he didn't need to add “menacing hand” to the list.

Isaac stood in front of his closet door. His hand moved to the doorknob, then pulled back. He turned and prepared to walk away. He wasn't ready to risk putting his hands inside that thing again. But something urged him on, some nagging need to figure out what was happening. He turned back and made himself open the door.

There was the box, right where he had left it … except that the side with the holes was facing to the right. Was that how he had put it in there? He thought that the holes had been facing toward the door. He wasn't sure. Tentatively, he reached into the closet and pulled out the box. He had to get this over with.

Nothing will happen
, he kept reassuring himself.

He put the box on his desk, sat down in front of it, took a deep breath, and slid his hands inside. It was a cool day, but he could feel sweat forming on his forehead. At first, he felt relieved to see only the reflection of his own hand.

But then the image disappeared, and the phantom limb came into view. It was holding a tattered piece of fabric with a faded yellow smiley face on it. Half of the smile was unraveled.

Isaac squeezed his eyes shut. Forcing his muscles to obey him, he kept his hands, trembling, inside the box.

The phantom limb was real after all. He hadn't imagined it.

But what was the hand trying to tell him?

Whose hand was it?

Isaac had so many questions but lacked any answers.
The hand could only sign to him, not speak—so how could he understand what it was trying to tell him?

He slowly opened his eyes again. He was just in time to see what happened next.

With a sudden violent movement, the phantom limb yanked a thread, and the smile unraveled completely.

 

HE TEN-YEAR-OLD GIRL STOOD IN THE kitchen, peeling potatoes that her mother was going to cook for dinner. She was smiling as she listened to the music that was being played in another room.

The music was coming from her brother. He was twelve now, a brilliant pianist—a prodigy, everyone said.

She had tried to learn to play the piano, but she was just no good at it. After a while, her mother had refused to keep paying for her lessons.

The girl finished peeling the last potato and dropped it into the kettle full of cold water. She
cleared her throat. “All done,” she said softly because she didn't want to interrupt the music. Her mother, who had been standing in the doorway listening blissfully to the piano, turned and looked at her.

“Did you cut them up?” her mother asked. She came over and looked into the pot and saw that the potatoes were still whole. “Give me the knife, please, and go work on your homework until dinner is ready.”

The girl handed her the knife and left the kitchen. She went as quietly as possible up the stairs. She didn't do her homework, though. Instead, she picked up her baby doll and locked herself in the bathroom.

 

SAAC WAS STILL TREMBLING SLIGHTLY AS HE put the dreadful box back into the closet. He was consumed with a million thoughts. He couldn't understand why the phantom limb had unraveled the smiley face.

At lunch, he sat across from Grandpa. The sandwiches Isaac had made were good, but not as good as Vera's.

“Did you find out anything at the hospital?” Grandpa asked, snapping Isaac out of his momentary distraction.

Again, Isaac was so surprised at Grandpa's question
that he was tongue-tied for a moment. He and Vera had both assumed that Grandpa's dim state of mind was permanent and would only get worse. But now Grandpa was actually speaking, and making sense. How was this possible?

“They did some tests on her brain, and they came out abnormal. They're going to do more tests and really check her out,” Isaac said. “But her doctor is real weird about the whole thing and has her on all these medications that make her groggy.”

“Oh,” Grandpa said. He turned away and stared vacantly out the window, as usual. “Maybe I'll drive us over there sometime.”

Not on your life,
Isaac thought. He wouldn't get in a car with Grandpa in a million years. The last time, Grandpa had fallen asleep at the wheel on a crowded highway and ended up veering toward another car. “Grandpa! Wake up!” Isaac had screamed. Grandpa woke up instantly and said, “I was only asleep for a little while.”

Isaac rode his bicycle back over to the hospital late that afternoon in a light rain. He really didn't want to return, but he needed money. He figured his mother must have taken her purse with her—he had
checked, and it wasn't at home. Her ATM card must be in it. She didn't need it in the hospital.

He didn't see Candi. But he heard two familiar, shrill voices—there, in doll-like matching white and pink–striped uniforms, were the Fitzpatrick twins.

“Loser,” one sneered openly, now that Candi wasn't around. She added, very softly so the other nurses wouldn't hear, “I bet you're really worried about your mommy.” She smiled. “Oh, and don't forget—the hospital has lockers too.”

Isaac looked down. When he looked up, he caught the other twin's eye—the one who hadn't insulted him. Her eyes met his for a moment.

“DCynthia, Destiny—I need you,” one of the nurses called.

They left without another word.

Isaac watched them as they walked away, and then he headed down the hall to his mother's room. As he entered the room, he saw that Dr. Ciano was standing over Vera. She looked surprised to see him. “I was just doing one last check before going off to my conference,” she said, and left.

“Mom, sorry to bring this up, but I'm out of cash.”

Esther was watching them from the other bed.

“Take my ATM card,” Vera said. “It's in my purse, over there in the cabinet.”

He stuck the card in his wallet and took a last look at her.

That was when he noticed it: a sore just below her right elbow, an odd bluish color. How had it gotten there?

He was shocked and really concerned.

 

VEN THOUGH ISAAC WAS WORRIED ABOUT his mother, he had something else on his mind: the puzzling behavior of the phantom limb in the mirror box. Maybe, he thought, if he found out more about the people who had lived in his house before them, he could solve the mystery of the mirror box—where it had come from, what its purpose was.

But where should he begin? He knew that the young boy had been sick and was a patient at the hospital. Could he find his file? He doubted that any hospital employee would give him that information—these things were confidential.