Twins (14 page)

It soon became clear that in spite of their mutually embarrassing discoveries, neither one of them planned to budge from their position. Gaia didn't remove her hand from his waist, nor did he remove his from her shoulder. The only movement on either of their parts was to adjust their heads so as to see each other better. Gaia shifted her head up to his shoulder, and Ed tilted his head down from his pillow.

Now that they were face-to-face … there was just something oddly natural about their physical configuration. Gaia suddenly remembered that he was Ed. Ed Fargo. The one remaining life-form she could trust. And finally Gaia realized the truth. The fact that he was Ed Fargo could make their closeness
more
comfortable rather than less. Even their extended silence felt totally comfortable. Serene, even.

Gaia couldn't tell whether allowing herself to be this close was fearless or brave. She only knew that she had no desire to change it.

“Are you feeling better?” Ed asked.

“I am,” she said, checking again through her body to see if she agreed with her statement. “I think the fever's gone.”

“I'm glad.” Ed sighed. “You looked touch-and-go there for a minute. It was kind of freaky”

“Try feeling it,” she said.

Another long, comfortable silence as their eyes relaxed into permanent contact. Everything was suddenly falling into place.

“I really didn't think you were coming back,” he said, turning slightly on his side.

“Why? I promised I would come back,” she said matter-of-factly, adjusting her head so that their faces were in even closer proximity.

“You did, didn't you?” He smiled, inching his face a bit closer to hers. Whatever she was doing, Ed was doing it, too. And she didn't want to stop him.

He let his eyes roamover her entire face, brushing a few of the matted hairs away from her mouth and then giving her eyes his full attention again. “If I said something along the lines of, ‘I was losing my mind without you,' do you think that would be over the top?”

“Yes,” she said definitively, tracing the way his wild hair crushed against his pillow. “That would be just as bad as me saying something like, ‘You were the only thing that kept me going last night.'”

Faces an inch closer.

“That doesn't sound so bad to me,” Ed noted.

“Yeah, well, you've seen a lot more movies than I have. You've been totally desensitized to cheesy love stories.” Close enough to see the flecks of gold in his pupils. Close enough to feel his breath against her cheek and see each dark individual fleck of stubble.

“Is this a cheesy love story?” he asked.

“Could you say anything
more
‘cheesy love story' than that?”

“I don't know. Could your face be any closer to mine without kissing me?”

Gaia froze at this statement. She swore she could hear the screeching rubber of a car slamming on the brakes somewhere off in the distance. Ed's smile dropped away instantly. He must have thought he'd just said the
wrong
thing. The silence that followed wasn't one of those comfortable ones. But she only stayed frozen for a moment. Because she was so unbelievably tired of being frozen. And dishonest. With herself and Ed. Frozen wasn't really how she felt at all.

“Actually, I think, probably …” She shifted herself even closer to Ed. “Probably I've got at least another …” Ed's smile began to reappear in the corner of his mouth. She moved her face even closer until the tip of her nose had passed the tip of his. “Okay, there,” she said without a hint of a smile, grazing his strong chin with her own. “I knew I had more room.”

Ed cupped his sizable hand behind her head and ran his finger gently along the back of her ear. He
made sure to match her deadpan expression. “You always have to be right, don't you?”

The sudden pounding at Ed's front door snapped Gaia backward. It was echoing through her head—like one of those infernal New York City jackhammers.

“Jesus, who is that?” Gaia backed herself up against the headboard.

Ed's face washed over with puzzlement as he stared at Gaia. “It's just the door …,” he said.

They wouldn't stop pounding. Pounding as if they were trying to break the damn thing down. Sinister images from the other side of that door were flashing through Gaia's head like lightning. She could actually see them. Like psychic visions, she could see them. All of the Joshes waiting on the other side of that door. Waiting for Ed to crack that door open so they could break through with their silencers and their hunting knives and punch an endless amount of bloody holes in Ed like they'd done to Mary. Like they'd done to Sam. Ed was all she had left in the world, and now they were going to take him and gouge out his eyes and leave his hollow body on the living-room floor. The angels of death, following her no matter where she went.

Ed grabbed for his crutches, but Gaia tugged him back to the bed. “You can't go out there, Ed, get it? Do
not
answer that door.”

Ed gave her that strange look again. “Gaia, what the
hell is wrong with you? It's just the door. It's probably a FedEx for my folks or something. Relax. I'm just going to see who it is.”

“Ed, don't. Can't you hear the way they're pounding out there?”

“Gaia, they've knocked twice gently. What are you talking about?”

“They're
murderers,
Ed. Cold-blooded murderers. And they're here to kill us both.”

Ed's expression changed from puzzled to something much more along the lines of deeply concerned. He leaned back to her and placed his hand on her forehead. “I want you to lie down, okay?” he said. “I think maybe that fever is acting up. I'll be right back.”

“Don't,” she begged one last time. “Please don't.”

But it was no use. Ed was already out the door. He was already gone.

HOW
could anyone in his right mind deny that there is a force on this earth greater than ourselves? I've never understood that. Don't get me wrong, I have the utmost respect for the existentialists. But let's be honest. They're only telling a part of the story. Because if we really bear the sole responsibility for all our choices and actions in life, then how on earth do you explain “chemistry”?

Chemistry between two people. It's simply not something we choose. It chooses us. What man or woman hasn't felt that indescribable electric connection after sharing only a few sentences with a complete stranger? Or even with someone who, for all rational reasons, they should despise?

We can't be held culpable for these uninvited electric connections. We can't be. Because if we were, then I would have to give in to the mountain of guilt
that's threatening to come tumbling down on me like an avalanche at any moment.

What is this undeniable electricity with Natasha? I can't understand it, and controlling it has grown more difficult in only a day's time. All I find myself wanting to do is apologize.

To you, Katia. I feel this overwhelming need to apologize to you for this connection I have not even asked for or created. Do you think perhaps she's some kind of substitute for you? A substitute mother to Gaia, a distant member of your family? Could that explain the adolescent burning in my chest when she smiles at me? If it weren't for me, you and I would still be together, and all these selfish, inappropriate questions would be moot.

That's what I feel right now, Katia. Disgustingly selfish and inappropriate. It's bad enough that I would have these trivial feelings that betray
you—
you, who have been living in my heart and
my thoughts any moment I've stopped to stand still. But to let these feelings distract me from
Gaia—
Gaia, who needs my undivided attention now more than ever—that, to me, feels unforgivable. Is it, Katia? Is this vague feeling I'm having unforgivable?

God, I wish we could just go back in time. Back to that first moment in that little overstocked Village bookstore when you and I first met. First spoke. First fell in love. Back to the brilliant simplicity of innocent young love. Do you remember that feeling? That feeling of knowing you'd found something you never wanted to give up? Of knowing that at that moment, you were exactly where you were supposed to be? I miss that feeling, Katia. I miss it very much.

planet ed

She had more important things to worry about, anyway. Like whether she had set her VCR to tape tonight's “very special
Friends.”

“WHO IS IT?”

Heather was startled by the harshness of his tone. He sounded like he was growling. “Jesus, Ed, it's just Heather. Can you chill?”

There was a long pause before she heard him unlatch the door.
God, was it that hard a decision?
He finally opened the door. But he didn't open it all the way. He stood in the doorway and held his arm behind the door, totally blocking her entry. Nice. How very inviting.

He looked like he'd just climbed out of bed. His hair was all piled up on one side, and the center of his T-shirt was totally crumpled up like he'd been clinging to it all night. He couldn't have looked any cuter…. It was a little depressing.

“Did you have any plans to go to school today?” she asked, looking him up and down and then checking her watch.

“Do you need something?” he asked impatiently.

Heather widened her eyes, making sure she'd made it clear how offensive his reply was. She waited a beat before speaking. “I see that you, and your hair, seem to have awoken on the wrong side of the bed this morning.”

“Look, I had a really rough night, okay? I'm not trying to be rude. Can we talk later?”

“Oh, yeah,” Heather said, crossing her arms. “That's
much less
rude.”

“Heather.” He groaned. “Come on.”

She paused for a moment, trying to swallow how much it genuinely hurt to be brushed off this thoroughly. She couldn't believe this conversation was still taking place in Ed's
hallway.
Maybe he'd be a little kinder when he heard why she'd come. “Fine,” she said, dropping her eyes. “I just wanted to know if you'd heard from Gaia yet. I wanted to know if she was okay.”

“She's okay,” Ed said. “Everything's okay now.”

“Really?” Heather squeaked. Heather was still surprising herself with how genuine her own concern for Gaia had become in the last forty-eight hours. The news came as a real relief to her. “Have you seen her?”

“I have. Let's talk about this later—”

“Well, where is she now?” Heather asked.

Ed's eyes darted behind him for a split second. “She's here,” he said.

“She is?” Heather found herself rising slightly on her tiptoes to see past Ed into the apartment.

Right at the end of his living room, at the corner of the hallway that led into his bedroom, was Gaia. She had a very odd expression on her face. Like she was either very frightened … or maybe confused. And although she was fully clothed, she, too, looked like she'd just climbed out of bed.

Heather felt nauseated. Or was it infuriated? Or
just incredibly sad? She looked into Ed's eyes. “Did she sleep over?” she asked, barely opening her mouth.

“Heather, can we talk later …?”

She found herself searching Ed's eyes for any memory of the way the two of them used to be. Before this awful year. Before Gaia Moore existed. She found nothing.

Fine. That was fine. She had put her life on the line for Gaia, and now she hadn't even been granted apartment-entry privileges. She was struck with a nagging need to cry, but she wouldn't show an ounce of it to Ed or his new roommate. She'd turned over her new leaf. And she refused to be petty. No matter what.

“Well …,” she began, being sure to literally keep her chin up. “I thought maybe you guys could use some coffee.”
Give him the big smile, Heather. The big smile.
“Do you guys want to stop at Starbucks with me before school?”

Ed looked back at Gaia. Heather could see her give him a quirky little smile. He turned back to the Heather in the hallway. “Maybe not this morning, okay?” He followed up his statement with the most insulting consolation smile.

Heather smiled right back, though—feeling like her face might crack. “Okay,” she said, as intensely bubbly as she could muster. “I guess I'll just see you guys in school, then.”

“Sounds good,” Ed said, already beginning to close the door.

Heather turned toward the elevator and took a few steps, but she turned back. “I'm glad Gaia's okay.”

The door was already closed. Fine. No problem. That was no problem.

She didn't let the tears flow until she'd gotten halfway down the block. She kept trying to remind herself of her new leaf as she approached Starbucks. She didn't want to resent Gaia, but God, wasn't she at least allowed to be jealous? Just flat-out envious? Envious of
any
love affair, for God's sake, not even just Ed and Gaia's?

Heather Gannis had never—repeat,
never—
gone this long without a boyfriend. Not since boys stopped being gross in the fourth grade. No, even then she'd had a boyfriend. Seth Weinstein.

But thanks to Gaia Moore—
not
that Heather was resentful, what with her new leaf—but thanks to Gaia, Heather had lost two boyfriends in a row. Now she couldn't even get her ex-boyfriend to go for coffee. Even if he could
bring
his new girlfriend.
That
was depressing.

Heather hurled her shoulder against the door of Starbucks and stepped up to the counter to order herself a double espresso. If she couldn't have a boyfriend, then at least she could have enough caffeine to make a buffalo stand up on two legs.

She tapped her foot impatiently at the pickup counter as she ran a continuous image of Gaia's quirky little smile through a mental loop. What did that smile mean? What was their little “special connection” all
about, anyway?
New leaf, Heather. New leaf.
Who cared? Not Heather. She had more important things to worry about, anyway. Like whether she had set her VCR to tape tonight's “a very special
Friends.”