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“Tutors helping?”

“I guess. I don’t know,” I said.

“What about your friends?” he said.

He flipped his notepad back a few pages, the sharp
sound cutting through the air. He tapped his pen on top of some
words he had found.

“Fine,” I said. “All one of them.”

“Jesse?” he asked.

I smiled and nodded.

“I see,” he said, as the pen moved across the paper.
“So your old friendships with the girls on the team and in your
classes haven’t gotten any better?”

“Still the same,” I said.

“How are you feeling about soccer? That was a huge
part of your life. You had a few colleges interested before your
accident. That must be hard to deal with.”

I shrugged, trying to hold steady. It hurt. It hurt
a lot sometimes, but I didn’t want to talk about it.

“It must be stressful not being able to play like
you used to. You’ve talked a little bit about how your teammates
treat you.”

“They don’t treat me bad or anything,” I said.

“But it’s different.”

“Yeah,” I said. “It’s more like I’m just not
there.”

I was talking too much.

“That must be frustrating.”

I paused.

“Yeah,” I said, finally. I looked at my watch. I
always was sure to wear one because Dr. Krowe never had a clock
that I could see during these visits. There was still way too much
time left.

“Have you thought about quitting the team?”

My heart sunk.

“I’m not ready to do that.”

He took off his glasses and cleaned them with the
edge of his sweater.

“Abby, I’m not saying you won’t ever play again. But
maybe you could give yourself a break this year. Every time you
show up there, on the field, at a game on the bench, at practice,
it reminds you of who you used to be. And every one of your
teammates, looking at you in that way, reminds you of that too.
Taking a break isn’t giving up. It’s just taking a break. I think
you could use that.”

I sighed. He was probably right but I wasn’t ready
to quit soccer. Besides, it was a short season.

“How’s that other friend of yours?”

“Amanda? A super bitch, as always,” I said. I was
surprised how forthcoming I was about her. But it was true.

He wrote that down.

“And Jesse?” he said.

“He’s awesome,” I said.

We talked a little more about Jesse playing
basketball. I felt better talking about him, and although I knew I
was going on way too much, I didn’t like discussing soccer and had
to kill some time. Of course I didn’t mention my changing feelings
for him. I would have to think that through on my own.

I glanced at my watch and reached for my
backpack.

“You still have some time. You were late and I don’t
have another appointment.”

“Thanks, but I better be getting home,” I said,
staring out the window.

“Yeah, you’re right. Be careful out there, Abby,” he
said, folding over the notepad. “And remember you can call at any
time. I’m always here for you.”

“Thanks, Dr. Krowe,” I said over my shoulder.

The cold air felt good on my face as I stepped
outside into the storm.

CHAPTER 5

When I got home I was surprised to find Kate sitting
on the sofa, sipping tea and watching the news.

“Hey, sis,” she said as I closed the door.

“Hey,” I said, taking off my coat and boots. “What
are you doing home so soon?”

“Oh, I filed my story early and thought I would have
a quiet night here. I already ordered the pizza from Mondo.” This
didn’t sound like Kate at all. “How was school?”

“Fine,” I said.

“And Doc Krowe?” she asked, looking over. “Do you
think that he’s helping any?”

I nodded and sat in the recliner. It felt good to be
home, and I was glad Kate was here and that the heater was
blasting.

“Hey, whatever happened with that dead body from the
other night?” I asked. I had meant to follow up on it but she
hadn’t been home much.

“Oh, that. Officially, it’s been ruled a suicide. He
was a homeless guy and they found him in the river not far from the
shops. His friends said he couldn’t swim and had been depressed
lately, so the police think he killed himself. But I’m not so
sure,” she said.

“How come you’re not so sure?” I asked.

“You sound like my editor,” she said, smiling. “I
don’t know. A hunch I guess.”

If Kate had a hunch she was probably right.

“Nobody really cares about him, though. Lieutenant
Sullivan actually told me not to shed a tear, that the old guy
would have probably died soon anyway given his chosen lifestyle and
the weather conditions.”

“Wow,” I said.

“There’s a lot of animosity in this town towards the
homeless lately,” she said. “People are tired of seeing them in
front of stores with cardboard signs.”

The doorbell rang and Kate got up and answered it. I
changed quickly into some sweats and when I came back, I saw the
steaming boxes of pizza and Matt hovering around the table. No
doubt he had followed the delivery guy over in hot pursuit.

“Hey, Abby!” Matt said, serving up slices. “What can
I get you? Pepperoni or pepperoni?”

We sat jamming thick, gooey slices into our mouths,
listening to the news, and making fun of the foolish anchors.
Sometimes watching the local news station reminded me of how small
this town really was. They tripped over their words, smiled as they
reported on deaths and accidents, and occasionally broke into
uncontrollable giggles that forced them to go to commercial. I
didn’t really care, but every time I watched the broadcast I could
see why Kate wanted out.

CHAPTER 6

I’ve had the same dream, over and over, since the
accident.

I’m under water. And in the beginning, I’m not
panicking. I’m calm, floating down, down, down to the bottom,
watching zillions of tiny water bubbles fly up around me.

And then it sets in. Terror rips through me, strong
and sudden. I hold my breath and try to swim upwards, but something
has a hold of me, keeps pulling me down into the darkness below. It
won’t let me go. It has a firm grip around my ankles and I can’t
break loose, can’t get free. The prayers I learned as a child flood
my mind. It won’t release me and keeps pulling me under, down into
nothingness.

But tonight in the dream, there is someone else with
me. We face each other in the water, both of us sinking. He doesn’t
see me. He is old, terrified and confused, scraggly and beaten. He
has a large tattoo that wraps around his neck.

The dream always ends the same. I have to breathe. I
have to take a breath. One deep, watery breath before everything
goes black.

CHAPTER 7

I woke up drenched in sweat, my heart pounding hard
in my chest. The dream was short, but horrible. My head ached, a
steady rhythm bouncing off the sides of my skull.

“Kate,” I said, stumbling into her room. It was
late. She turned on the lamp and sat up.

“What is it?”

“My head.”

She pulled me on the bed and the room started
spinning.

“Come on, I’m taking you in. You don’t look
good.”

We made our way to her Subaru. Lights seared through
my eyes as we drove in the night. My stomach ached too, and I tried
hard to not throw up in the car.

Everything faded for a while, but soon, it was like
old times: waking up in the whiteness of the emergency room, Kate
by my side, and Dr. Mortimer hovering above. My head wasn’t
throbbing anymore and my stomach had settled.

“How long have we been here?” I asked.

She was smiling, giddy almost, and I saw her eyes
were shiny. She had been crying.

“About two hours,” she said.

“How are you feeling?” Dr. Mortimer asked.

“Much better. My head doesn’t hurt anymore.”

“You had a pretty bad migraine. I gave you a shot
and it should hold for a while,” he said. “And I gave Kate some
pills in case you have another one. The minute you feel like it’s
coming, you need to take a pill and it will subside.”

“Thanks.”

“We took some blood and everything else looks fine,”
he said, looking at my eyes with his penlight. “I don’t think it’s
anything more serious than a migraine.”

“So I can go home?” I asked.

“Yeah,” he said. “Get some sleep, Abby. I’ll be
consulting with your regular doctor. She may want you to do some
more tests. We’ll talk about that later.”

I stood up. I was a little weak, but was able to
walk.

“Thanks, Dr. Mortimer,” I said.

“Keep an eye on her,” he said to Kate.

“Thanks, Doc,” she said as she grabbed my arm. “Hey,
what are you doing for Thanksgiving?”

“Oh, my brother is in town,” he said. “I’m trying to
talk him out of cooking.”

“Why don’t you guys come over for dinner? Or at the
very least for a drink. We’d love to have you. A few other people
from the newsroom are coming and it should be pretty fun.”

“Well, thank you,” he said. I could tell he was
happy. “Sure. Yes. We’d love to. Thank you.”

We were quiet as we walked. Kate guided me through
the double doors out into the parking lot, the frozen air hitting
us with a thud as we navigated over ice to the car.

“Gotta stop doing that to me,” she said, forcing a
smile. “Abby, I can’t take much more of this stupid hospital.”

I smiled but I saw how serious she was and knew I
had shaken her up. Kate was the one who had it the hardest. First
mom died five years ago, then my accident last year. She was too
young for this kind of stuff and she wore it on her face sometimes.
This was one of those times.

“Sorry,” I said, and really meant it.

Tears spilled from her eyes, streaming down her
cheeks. She hugged me hard.

“Seriously. I need you. Okay?”

We pulled away from the lot into the quiet, dark
streets.

“I’m glad you invited him,” I said. “Although it was
kind of random.”

“Yeah,” she said as she turned down the music. “He
always seems, I don’t know, kind of lonely or something. But I hope
he didn’t get the wrong impression. I just thought he needed a nice
home-cooked meal. Can’t get any more home cooked than
Thanksgiving.”

That was true. And Kate and I did it right every
year. Thanksgiving had been one of Mom’s favorite holidays and when
she was alive, we always had the best ones. It was important to
Kate to continue the tradition so we cooked really good food and
invited a lot of friends over.

Diana Krall hummed from the speakers.

“He likes you, you know?” I said.

“Yeah, I know,” she said.

“Must be nice, gorgeous doctors throwing themselves
at your feet. And you just step over them,” I said.

“Come on, Abby. It’s not like that at all. He knows
I’m involved.”

“Matt? Come on.”

She sighed.

“Matt’s an artist, Abby,” she said, sounding like
she needed to convince herself. “That’s one of the reasons why I’m
so crazy about him. You’ve seen his paintings. They’re
amazing.”

I had seen his paintings. Amazing wouldn’t have been
the word I would have chosen to describe them. Abstract. Messy.
Confusing. But definitely not amazing.

“Okay, okay. I know. Maybe I’m just going through a
phase. But relax, will ya? It’s not like we’re getting married or
anything.”

“Does he ever wash his hair anymore, by the
way?”

Lately Matt was looking more and more grungy. He had
gotten dreadlocks put in and had grown a scraggly goatee, which he
sometimes braided. And he was always wearing the same clothes.
Baggy jeans, a striped shirt, and a wool hat, looking like the
Where’s Waldo guy. A few of Kate’s friends had reported seeing him
roaming the streets downtown looking for inspiration, but I was
pretty sure he was picking up spare change from tourists.

“Let’s not have this conversation right now,” she
said, yawning.

We stopped at a traffic light. We were the only car
around for miles.

“Still feeling better?” she asked.

“Yeah,” I said. Then I remembered the dream.

“I was having that same nightmare right before the
headache,” I said, shivering suddenly even though it was hot in the
car.

“The one where you’re drowning?” she asked.

“Yeah, it was bad. Really bad,” I said.

She drove up our street and I was thankful we were
almost home. The sun would be coming up soon, but I couldn’t wait
to get to sleep. Maybe I could talk Kate into letting me sleep in
her giant, feathery bed.

Then I remembered.

“Strange, though, in this one, there was this old
guy in the water with me.”

“What?”

“An old guy with a huge tattoo on his neck. That’s
when the pain hit.”

Kate looked over at me suddenly.

“A tattoo on his neck? What kind of tattoo?”

I thought a moment. It was so strange. The tattoo
was illuminated in the water, like a stream of light had made its
way from the surface down into the darkness.

“It was a mermaid tattoo. It wrapped around his
neck.”

Kate turned several shades lighter as we pulled into
the driveway. She turned off the car and just sat there.

“What is it?” I asked.

“I’m trying to figure out how the guy I did a story
on, you know, the one who committed suicide in the river the other
night, how he ended up in your dream.”

CHAPTER 8

“I’m going to make some tea, Abby. We need to talk
about this a little more. Are you feeling up for it, or do you want
to get to bed?”

I did want to get to bed, but Kate seemed to be so
excited about the dream that I told her to go ahead. I owed her
that much even if I could barely keep my eyes open.

“The man, the suicide I investigated down by the
river? That was one of the things I noticed. He had this giant
mermaid tattoo on his neck. I mean it was huge, it covered his
entire neck. It was freakish.”