Life Is but a Dream (28 page)

My feet reach the edge of the waves and he runs.

—
Sabrina, what are you doing? You’re freaking me out.
— I hear how fragile his words are and how desperate he is to keep me here. —
Will you stop, please?! You’re acting crazy!
—

—
I’m not crazy
— I tell myself, slipping off the last of my clothing.

The water on my bare skin is cold and numbing but the tears on my face burn like fire. I let them stay though. I don’t wipe them away because this is part of what’s supposed to happen now. In a few moments, the sun will open up beneath my feet and I will slide away forever.

The first wave crashes over my head.

The tide pulls the sand out from under my feet.

I’m aware of the water in my lungs. My belly swells with an ocean of its own inside—pregnant with fish to keep me company. All around me is the comforting hum of the water and the noise from the sky goes quiet. In the watery light from the surface above, I see tiny air bubbles float off of me like countless twinkling stars and I surrender to the scenery.

Before my eyes, the murky water is swallowed by a brilliant light.

My heart glows.

There is a halo shining over my entire body and it keeps me warm.

I breathe out water and breathe in air from heaven.

As if out of a dream, I see him dive toward me—his eyes glowing green through the water. The skinny muscles in his arms are the fins of a fish swimming to join me. He wraps his arms around me and I close my eyes.

Together we pass through the center of the sun.

CHAPTER

TWENTY-ONE

Air chokes my lungs when I open my eyes.

My nostrils burn with the sterile scent of antiseptic bleach.

Sand crawls over every crevice of my body like fire insects.

I blink until the room comes into focus. There are machines beside the bed I’m strapped into. I can feel the tube in my vein and the dull pressure of liquid dripping into my bloodstream. There are all kinds of wires attached to my chest. I can’t see them—a blanket is pulled over my body. I know that I’m naked under it. My brain tells me I should be freaking out, but for some reason I’m strangely calm.

I’m not in heaven.

There are no doctors in heaven and there is a swarm of doctors hovering around me. One of them pulls back my eyelids with icy fingers. She shines a bright light into my pupils—an intense white beam of light that makes me blind until she takes it away.

—
Did she take anything? Any drugs?
—

—
No
.—

I follow the sound of that voice. It’s Alec. He’s standing in the corner of the hospital room with a blanket around his shoulders like a superhero cape. His lips are pale blue. Water drips from his hair, which appears dark and brown when it’s drenched—flat against his forehead. His clothes stick to his body. The shape of his rib cage shows through his T-shirt when he shivers.

—
You were with her before you pulled her ashore?
— the doctor asks, and Alec nods. —
And you’re certain she didn’t take anything? Tell me if she did. She won’t get into trouble; I just need to know.
—

—
She didn’t, I swear.
—

—
Any medications that you know of?
—

Alec’s eyes meet mine and he hesitates. —
She’s supposed to take something
— he says nervously —
but she hasn’t been taking it.
—

A nurse enters the room and hands a clipboard to the doctor. —
We just spoke with the doctor who was treating her. Here’s a list of her prescriptions.
—

The doctor looks over the list and raises her eyes up to Alec. —
She hasn’t been taking any of these? Are you sure? For how long?
—

Alec shrugs. —
Awhile … I think.
—

The doctor shakes her head. —
No wonder
— she sighs, turning to the nurse. —
Okay, let’s get these scripts filled. Let’s get her on these as soon as possible.
—

There is a flurry of activity among the emergency room staff. The nurses adjust monitors, the doctor checks my eyes again and listens to my heart, and then they leave one by one. Alec stops the last nurse on the way out. —
Can I talk to her?
— he asks.

—
You can try
— she says, pulling back a curtain and disappearing behind it.

Alec glides over to my side. I can’t see his feet. He could be flying, but I know that he isn’t. This time is different from the last. This time I know that heaven is dead.

—
Hey there
— he says, sniffing the chill back inside of him. —
They said you’re going to be okay
.— He takes my hand and holds it against his cheek, kissing my palm. There is a warmth in his blue lips that tingles like electricity.

—
It wasn’t real … was it?
— I whisper, and he lowers his eyes. It’s all the answer I need and my eyes tear up. —
When I was there … underwater … I almost thought I could see it, you know? It felt really close, but it wasn’t. I knew … even as I wished so hard for it, I knew it wasn’t going to come like I thought it would. And then … I saw you and I thought maybe …
—

Alec presses his lips to my face. There is a trace of my tears on his mouth when he pulls away. —
Sabrina, I was wrong
— he says. —
About the medicine … about everything. I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.
—

—
You never saw it, did you? Not for real?
— I ask. —
You never saw heaven the way I did.
—

—
No, I guess I didn’t …
—

—
Does that mean that all of my dreams are wrong … that we don’t belong together?
— I stare at my hands as they fumble with the blanket’s edge. I only force myself to look at him after to see if he’s as broken as me.

Alec wipes at his eyes, pushing the hair out of his face. —
I think it means we belong together more than ever. You’ll always have me, I promise.
—

We both go quiet and the only noise in the room is the beeping of the machines plugged into me. There is no static. There are no noises screaming in the air. There is only us.

—
They are going to change me, aren’t they?
— I ask him.

Alec shakes his head. —
No … I think they are just going to help you. But they can’t ever change you. No matter what they do … you’ll always be perfect to me. Remember that, okay?
—

He leans over my bed and kisses me softly—his bottom lip against my upper one. There is a sound of footsteps coming in our direction and he backs away, still holding my hand. When my parents rush in, he gently lets my fingers fall to the bed and steps aside for them.

I look them both in the eyes—my mom and my dad. They are both clear and free of static and they have been crying. It hurts knowing that it’s my fault and I tell them —
I’m sorry
— but it only makes them cry all over again.

I can’t look at them anymore, and close my eyes.

*   *   *

—
That’s you
— I say, giggling as I point to a picture in my science book of a gorilla sitting in the jungle. My dad laughs too, curling one hand under his armpit and scratching the top of his head with the other as he makes grunting noises. —
That’s you too!
—

My dad looks at the next picture. It shows a whale with mist shooting from its blowhole and he frowns. —
I may have put on a few pounds, but I would hardly consider myself a whale
.— He’s only pretending to be offended though and I crack up even harder.

I turn to the next page.

There is a hummingbird pooping as it hovers.

Before I can put my finger on the photo, my dad beats me to it. —
That’s you!
—

—
Gross! That’s not me
— I shriek. A few specks of spit fly from my teeth when I laugh and hit the page. —
That’s you!
— I tease, folding my arms on the kitchen table and resting my head down because I’m laughing so hard I can’t breathe.

My mom is over by the sink preparing dinner. She rolls her eyes, but there is a smile on her face. —
Nice to see you’re acting your age
— she says.

—
I’m only twelve, I’m still allowed to act silly for another year
— I say, sticking my tongue out at her. —
What about Dad? He’s like a hundred
.—

—
That’s who I was talking to
— my mom says.

—
Busted!
—

—
Wait, no fair
— my dad complains. —
I’m not nearly a hundred
.—

All three of us are laughing then.

I turn the page. My dad and I both spot the picture of a hornet. We touch it and point at my mom. —
That’s you!
— we shout.

—
Yeah, you got me
— she says, acting completely uninterested. —
And if you’ve had your fun, it’s time to take your schoolwork upstairs and set the table.
—

I groan as I get up and stack my books into my backpack. I stomp away, but they both know I’m only faking. I’m not really mad or anything. In fact, I’m pretty certain I have the best parents in the world—even if they won’t buy me everything my friends have.

As I go up the stairs to my room, I think about the boy at my school who lost his parents in a car accident last year. I don’t know him or anything. He’s a grade below me. But every time I see him in the hall, part of me wants to go up and give him a hug. I never want to lose my parents—I’d miss them too much.

*   *   *

As we’re sitting in the hospital room, I’m remembering how things used to be with us as a family. There wasn’t always tension between us. Things used to be good. I want it to be that way again. So when my mom tries to hold my hand, I don’t pull it away like I did yesterday.

—
We’re so glad you’re okay
.
We were so scared
— she tells me.

Alec isn’t in the room any longer. He left once my parents came. Nobody said he had to, but my dad glared at him and I thought for a minute he would kill Alec with his eyes. —
Don’t hate him, please
— I say.

—
Who, honey?
— my mom asks.

—
Alec
— I say. —
I know you don’t like him, but I do. And he likes me. He did save my life
.—

My dad grimaces. —
That’s what they told us
— he says. —
I can’t say that makes up for putting you in this position in the first place.
—

My mom is about to argue with him—about to beg him not to start this here. I don’t want to see them fight. Not about me. Not again.

—
He didn’t
.
I did
— I say. —
I made myself worse. I stopped taking the medicine because … I thought if I didn’t, then I wouldn’t be special anymore. I thought they were going to make me into someone boring and terrible.
—

I see my dad’s heart break inside of him—I hear it in his voice. —
Oh, Sabrina … no, sweetie. Why didn’t you tell us? If you didn’t like it there, we could’ve found you someplace better.
—

—
I couldn’t … I was too scared
— I say. My words almost get lost in the ache in my throat. —
But now, I’m more scared not to tell. I don’t want to be like this anymore. It’s too hard … when all of the things I believe stop being true … it just hurts too much.
—

My mom puts her hand on my forehead and runs her fingers through my hair before her palm comes to rest on the back of my neck. Then she pulls my face to her shoulder where I can cry as loud as I want and not have to worry about it. She taps me so lightly, making the kind of soothing sounds only a mother can make to her child. My dad has one arm around me and one around her. His strength is enough to hold us both and we are enough to hold him up too.

—
It’s going to be okay
— he says, and I think for the first time, we all believe in the possibility of that phrase.

EPILOGUE

—
How are you feeling today, Sabrina?
—

I see Dr. Richards’s reflection in the window. She strides over to the chair and sits down, but I don’t go over to her right away. I want to look out at the trees just a little longer.

It’s beautiful the way the leaves dance in the breeze. There’s a blue jay sitting on one of the high branches. When it spots me staring out, it takes off—soaring over the building, the sunlight catches its wings. I’m somewhat relieved and sort of sad to see the bird remain the same color all through his flight.

—
Everything okay?
—

I turn away from the windows and smile at her.

—
Everything’s perfect
— I say.

My stay at the Wellness Center has been different this time around. I know myself better.

It was my decision to come back. My parents were willing to send me anywhere I wanted or even have me stay home if I chose to. But I wanted to come back. I knew Dr. Richards was right the first time. I had been getting better before I stopped taking my medicine. I wanted to try again, and this time finish what I’d started.

When I sit down across from her, I notice that she doesn’t have her notebook with her. We are only here to say good-bye.

—
It’s hard to believe that it’s been four weeks
— I say. Scenes from both of my stays here flash through my memory. The cafeteria and the common room with their brightly painted walls, group sessions and art class. The nurses who were always nice to me even when I got frustrated with them. I made some friends this time too—friends who get me. Like Amanda. There’s so much more to her than I saw before. As much as I miss my friendship with Kayliegh, it’s somehow easier talking to other kids with the same kinds of problems as me.

—
You must be excited to finally be going home
— Dr. Richards says.