Notes on a Near-Life Experience (22 page)

M
Y RADIO ALARM GOES OFF AND I WAKE TO A DJ DOING AN
Arnold Schwarzenegger impression and discussing something political. It's hard to take the government seriously when the Terminator runs your state. I hit the snooze button.

In the silence, a piece of the dream I was having floats into my head. I was at the prom wearing my mother's wedding dress and my dad was my date; Paloma was there with Julian, wearing my prom dress. Everyone at the dance was wounded, blood soaking their tuxedo shirts and formal dresses. They were all missing pieces of their body. Julian only had one leg, Paloma had a huge hole in her chest, Dad was missing an arm. Half of Kiki Nordgren's face was gone. I was whole, though. I try to remember why. And then it comes back. I wasn't whole. I was missing my entire body. I was a ghost.

The dream disturbs me. Thinking about it, I realize that I would rather have a gaping bloody wound than be nothing at all.

Later on, I remember something else: I wasn't just a ghost, I was carrying their missing pieces. Maybe I was the one who had taken them.

T
WO DAYS BEFORE THE PROM I AM IN LISZ'S OFFICE FOR MY
weekly appointment. I can't stop thinking about my dream. I feel like a ghost again, only now I feel as if I'm drowning, too. “Can I ask you a question?” I say, pushing the question jar to the side. “Sure,” Lisz says. “Do you think I'm a future serial killer, or a suicide case, or something?” “Mia, you can't be serious.” “I am, though.” “No. I absolutely do not.” “Oh.” I feel relieved, like I've come up for air. “Can I ask you a question?” Lisz asks. “Depends on the question,” I tell her.

“Why would you think you might be a serial killer?”

“Well, I had this dream….” I start to tell her. I hesitate, wondering what I should leave out. I realize that I am too tired to leave things out and try to remember them all. So I tell her everything. I tell her about my dream. I tell her about finding Allen hungover. I tell her about Julian and my boobs.

And she listens.

“So?” I say when I am finished. “What do you think?”

“I think you have a lot of weight on your shoulders. Too much. And I think you put some of it there when you don't need to, and I think some other people put it there when they shouldn't.”

“So what should I do?” I ask. I mean, I finally told the truth, so she got what she wanted. Now she can do her magic or whatever. Now she can give me her answers.

“That's what we're finally going to be able to figure out,” she tells me.

“That's it?”

“For now, that's it. You've got a beginning.” She acts like I've just been crowned Miss America.

“That's it? A beginning?”

“I think it's what we've been waiting for,” she says.

I decide to believe her. For now. I'll give Lisz maybe a chapter a week—not the whole story, but some if it—and I'll see if it works.

T
HE MORNING AFTER
K
EATIE WAS BORN
I
WORE A
T-
SHIRT TO
school that had the words BIG SISTER on it in big pink letters. I felt like having someone in the family who was younger than me made me a more important part of my family. I finally had someone to take care of, just like everyone else.

“My mom had our baby,” I announced to my class at school. “Yesterday.”

My teacher, Ms. Plummer, asked me to wait until announcements to tell the class my “exciting news.”

When it was time, Ms. Plummer asked me to come to the front of the class to tell about the baby.

“She has brown hair and she weighs nine pounds and one ounce. And she is going to live at our house.” Ms. Plummer wrote the information on the board.

“What is your sister's name?” she asked.

“We don't have one yet. We thought she was a boy. Then when she came out, the doctor saw that she didn't have a—”

“I see. Well, when you know her name, be sure to let us know. For now we'll just call her Baby.” Ms. Plummer wrote
Baby Day
on the board above the words
brown hair
and
9 lbs. 1 oz.

Mom was so used to having just Allen and me that once, after Keatie was born, she almost forgot about her and left her at home. She got into the car, made sure Allen and I were buckled up, and almost left; luckily, she noticed Keatie's empty car seat when she looked in the rearview mirror while she was backing out. Another reason I need to be better about using my mirrors when I drive, I suppose. If I don't get into the habit, my future children's lives could be at stake.

For a while after that, I worried that my mom would forget me, too. But I got over it when I talked to Allen about it.

“Duh, Mia,” he said. “We're the ones she remembered.”

Thinking about that now, though, thinking about Keatie stuck in front of the music academy and Allen left alone on the sidelines after that disastrous soccer game, I wonder if she has, in some ways, forgotten us.

I
WAKE UP AT ELEVEN AND THERE ARE ALREADY THREE MES
-sages on my phone.

Mom: “Mia, it's me. I had to go into work early this morning, but I wanted to call and find out what time you'd be leaving so I can be there when you and Allen go. And let me know if you need any help getting ready or if you need me to bring anything home. I forgot pantyhose on the night of my prom. Back then, everyone still wore them, so it was a big deal. Call me when you get this, honey.”

Julian: “Today's the day. I have a few questions for you, so call me.”

Haley: “Mia, your brother just called and told me that he isn't going to the prom. Please tell me this is some kind of joke.”

I
WALK DOWN THE HALL TO ALLEN'S ROOM
. H
E ISN'T THERE
. I call his cell phone; he doesn't pick up. I leave a message; it takes significant effort for me to restrain myself from screaming into the phone. “Al, it's me. Haley thinks you aren't taking her to the prom anymore. You can't just back out of a prom date the day of the prom. If you need money or something, ask Mom or Dad. And please call me back. And you
are
taking Haley. Where are you, anyway?”

I call Mom. I get her voice mail.

“Hi, this is Maggie Preston….”

Since when does she go by her maiden name? She's not even divorced yet.

“I can't take your call right now, but if you'll leave your name and phone number, I'll get back to you as soon as I can.

If your call is urgent, press zero and you'll be forwarded to my assistant.” Instead of a beep, there's an odd medley of ringing bells.

“Mom, it's me. I'm getting ready at Haley's. We'll take pictures, okay? Have you seen Allen? I can't find him, and I need to talk to him about tonight. Bye.”

I call Julian. “Allen's gone. And he told Haley he isn't going to prom.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“You do?”

“He was over here last night and he got pretty crazy.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don't know. I'm not getting into this. You should just talk to Al yourself.”

What? Since when was Julian so…diplomatic?

“Oh. Right. What was I thinking, asking you? I mean,
we
aren't friends or anything. We just hang out once in a while and make out sometimes. Why would I ever presume to ask you about my brother?”

“Are you kidding? C'mon, Meems. Any time I say anything about Allen's problems, you make some excuse or say that I must be wrong.”

“I don't know what you're talking about.”

“Okay. I must've misinterpreted things. I'm really tired.

Can I call you later?” “Sure. Whatever. I've got a million things to do, too.” “All right, then I'll talk to you later. Bye.” “See ya.”

I call Haley.

“Thank goodness it's you!” she exclaims when she answers the phone. “What is going on? Please tell me that I am still going to the prom.”

“I'm working on that.”

“What is it, Mia? Has he been drinking? Is it something else?”

“I don't know. I have no idea what the deal is. He freaked out when my dad told us he was going to chaperone the dance, but I didn't think he would—”

“Have you talked to your mom about what he's been doing?”

“Are you kidding? What am I supposed to say? Look, it'll work out. I know he's not really going to skip the prom; he wouldn't do that to you. I'm going to come over in an hour to get ready. It's going to be fine.”

“You always think everything is going to be fine. Sometimes it isn't.”

“Well, this time it is.”

“I hope so. I'll see you in an hour.”