Terror (13 page)

Con #3—She's got a secret cowardly side. I don't know what else to think. I mean, shrieking at a cockroach? Running from a
fight? It just doesn't add up. It's almost as if she can switch courage on and off like a light switch. Only now that I think about it, I haven't seen her switch it on in a while. And until she does, until I see another glimpse of the old Gaia, the verdict on her is… Let's just say it's a hung jury.

breaking of the damn

Gaia felt like she was falling into a deep and inexplicable chasm, a depth of depression she had never been able to reach before.

GAIA PUSHED OPEN THE FRONT DOOR of Katz's Deli and went reeling out onto the crowded sidewalk of East Houston Street. It was a breezy, cloud-ridden day, and the weather seemed to reflect her inner state—vague and foreboding, teetering on the precipice of a violent thunderstorm. Gaia's swirl of thoughts and emotions had so overtaken her consciousness that she was having trouble walking in a straight line, almost as if she had just stumbled out of a bar after a dozen shots of tequila. Her internal monologue raced at the same frenzied pace as her speed-walking legs, one negative thought pushing her forward to the next, on and on, ad nauseam.

You're pushing Jake away. He was right to leave. He is another in a string of guys who want to love you and try, only to realize that you're unbearable. Sam. Ed. And now Jake. When you're fifty years old, if you live that long, you'll be making this same goddamn speech to yourself for the umpteenth time. The list of people who discarded you over the years will fill up notebooks. You thought fearlessness was the culprit, that fear would give you that dose of vulnerability necessary to give yourself fully to someone. But it has nothing to do with fear. You're inherently flawed. When Mom died, she cursed you with the lifelong inability to love and receive love. You'll always be
alone, and you deserve to be. You deserve eternal misery, and that's exactly what you'll get….

Gaia stared down at the little black circles that peppered the sidewalk beneath her feet. Each spot had been gum in someone's mouth at some point before being spit out and stepped on, over and over, until it became a dirty little speck. That was how she felt, like a dirty little speck, unnoticed by the world and unconnected to the other dirty specks and continuously stepped on. Gaia felt like she was falling into a deep and inexplicable chasm, a depth of depression she had never been able to reach before. Her fearlessness had always been a buffer that kept her from sinking into the emotional hell that was waiting just beneath her, its flames licking the soles of her feet.

Gaia ran up a set of steps and walked past a tree into what appeared to be a park. She had no idea where she was or where she was going. She wasn't sure whether to run faster and outrun her thoughts or flop to the pavement headfirst so that she would be knocked unconscious and not have to deal with anything. The image of her mother's agonized face shot through her head like a flash of lightning. She needed silence. She wanted everything to stop. Ahead of her, past the basketball court, was a bench. Maybe if she sat there, these godforsaken thoughts would slow down and she could get back to normal. Gaia picked up her pace to a jog.

She plopped down on the bench as if it were her bed after days without rest. She sat there, panting, her chest heaving so exaggeratedly that she appeared to be bobbing up and down on unsteady waters. And then, without giving herself permission, she indulged in a luxury she rarely allowed herself—she exploded into tears. It came with no emotional buildup, just the sudden and unexpected breaking of the dam. Gaia let the pain flow through her, uninhibited. “Oh God,” she said. It was almost overwhelmingly difficult, but she soon felt a certain strange relief, too, as if the dirty thoughts she'd been having were being washed into the gutter. And in what felt like no time, the mad rush of wet-faced anxiety dissolved into nothing more than quiet sobs and sniffles.

“Excuse me,” a voice said. “But are you okay?”

Gaia jerked up her head. It was a face. A male face and, to be honest, a rather nice looking one. Gaia gave him a quick once-over to assess what his deal was. His close-cropped hair, goatee, backpack, and respectable hipster getup suggested that he was a recent college grad who worked in publishing, or the film industry, or for some Web site. Though he seemed like a nice, sensitive guy who had moved here from somewhere other than New York, with essentially pure motives for approaching her, Gaia still basically wanted him to leave her alone. She wanted to be left alone and not left alone, if that made any sense.

“I'm fine,” she lied. “Thanks, but I'm fine.”

“All right,” the guy said. He bobbed his head in a reassuring manner. “You just look so sad….”

“No, I'm fine.”

“Okay.” The guy flashed a humble smile. “No problem. Just checking. Have a good one.”

He walked away. Gaia wiped her face. She realized that her mood had been lifted by that short interaction with a stranger. He reminded her of something, of someone, and it seemed to lift the clouds and add a splash of sunshine in otherwise dark skies. What was it? If he had been such a blessing, why had she wanted him to go away?

The answer flashed like a bolt of lightning in her mind:
Ed.
Gaia sniffled and stood up from the bench. That was what it was. The guy reminded her of Ed. Of that uniquely selfless quality Ed had, that way of being sincerely concerned for her and wanting to help for no reason other than that she needed it. An image of him lying in his hospital bed flooded her thoughts, and she felt charged with purpose. Poor Ed. It was a travesty that she hadn't gone to see him yet. She'd been so busy obsessing about herself—about the new new Gaia—that she hadn't made time to see him yet.

That was it. That was where she had to go. She had to see Ed. And she had to see him now.

WALKING DOWN A BRIGHTLY LIT corridor of St. Vincent's Hospital, Gaia used every ounce of mental discipline to fight off the barrage of flashbacks. How many people had she visited in this place? Ed, Sam, Heather… She could already picture the tiny, uncomfortable adjustable beds with the metal railings and the lack of cable television. She'd been attacked by thugs here and rescued by St. Vincent's security. She'd had a late night picnic of greasy diner food with Heather and Ed on the hospital roof. This place was like a second, if not particularly welcome home. Even the overly sanitized smell, which used to make her nauseous, was familiar to her by now.

Gaia stopped and looked to her right at a door labeled Janitor's Closet 10381.
They're not all bad memories,
she thought, a smile overtaking her sullen expression. That was the janitor's closet where, a while back, she and Ed had shared a long, luxuriant kiss. It seemed like years ago now—back when they'd been still on the same page. In the months since, Ed had discovered, or thought he discovered, Gaia two-timing him with Sam. He had subsequently gone out with Tatiana, her Russian roommate from hell, and now his newest female du jour, Kai. Whatever. Gaia reached into her bag and pulled out the Aquaman Pez dispenser she'd bought for Ed on the way over. It was exactly the kind
of jokingly nonsentimental gift he would go for.

Gaia sighed and tossed the gift back in her bag. In a window a few feet from the janitor's closet she saw a fuzzy reflection of her face.
Oh, my. I'm a mess.
She hurried down the hall to the women's bathroom and closed the door behind her. Looking in the mirror, she found that this clearer view was even more frightening. The worst part about crying was that its aftermath was an advertisement of how pathetic you were. Gaia dug through her bag, hoping that by some remote chance she'd thrown some makeup in there at some point and forgotten to clean it out. Hmmm. Wallet, book, magazine, pens, never-sent postcards, lint… Damn! It was times like these that Gaia wished she had just the slightest trace of girlieness to her. It would so come in handy right now. She turned on the faucet, bent over, and doused her face with cold water over and over, hoping the cold blast would miraculously brighten the swollen violet bags under her eyes. She checked the mirror again. Ecch. Well, at least she didn't look any worse.

Gaia pushed through the bathroom door and walked the last hundred or so feet to Ed's room. Before entering, she stopped to collect herself. The fact was, she hadn't seen him during his entire stay here. That, combined with the hard-core awkwardness of their relationship leading up to his hospitalization, now infused her mind with crippling self-doubts.
Chill
out, Gaia. It's Ed. Along with Dad and your Jerry's Crab House T-shirt, he's the closest thing to a constant in your life.
Her nervousness began to turn the corner to excitement. The door to his room was slightly ajar. She let out one last breath, grabbed her little gift from her bag, and opened the door.

“Hey—,” Gaia began. She couldn't finish. She was too busy registering the full impact of the image before her eyes. Someone was bent over Ed's hospital bed, a girl, and she didn't appear to be a nurse. She was dressed much too colorfully, too skimpily. Gaia hurriedly pushed the Pez dispenser back in her bag. “Oh, I'm sorry. Excuse me….”

The girl pushed away from the hospital bed. Gaia saw Ed's badly bruised face for the first time. Though she had commanded herself to leave the room, Gaia's feet were rooted to the floor. She looked from Ed to the girl, and her suspicions were confirmed. It was Kai.

“Oh, wow,” Ed said, his eyes jolted wide open. “Gaia. No, it's okay. Come in….”

“I should have knocked,” Gaia said. “It was just, the door was—”

“No, no, no,” Ed said. “Come on in. How are you?”

Thoughts and feelings shot through Gaia's consciousness at the same breakneck speed as the insistent throbbing of blood through her veins.
You obviously don't need me. Why did I come?
She felt out of control, light-headed, hypoglycemic. Ed's face was purplish
and puffy. Gaia felt a pang of guilt at not having finished those punks off when she'd had the chance.
It's my fault that you got pummeled, Ed. I wish I had the guts to tell you.
Her hands were shaking but only because they were attached to her body, which was caught up in a slightly pulsating wavelike motion.

“Gaia?” Ed said. “Are you okay?”

“You look like you're about to faint,” Kai added.

Hearing Kai's high-pitched voice put Gaia over the edge.
I look like hell. They must think I'm having a nervous breakdown. Maybe I am….
Something snapped within her, and Gaia felt suddenly claustrophobic. Her flight response was screaming out to her, drowning out every other voice in her head.

“I should go,” she murmured, and no sooner were the words out than she pivoted and was out the door. Voices were coming from behind her, protestations, but nothing registered as actual words, certainly nothing that would slow her in the slightest. This day was just one bad choice after another—a never-ending string of stupidity. Hearing footsteps behind her, Gaia. frantically considered ducking into the bathroom or breaking into a sprint. But a hand on her shoulder brought the frenzy to a halt.

“Gaia.”

She turned around. It was Kai, and she was all brown-eyed concern. Gaia was trying not to hate the
girl for subjecting her to one of Gaia's biggest pet peeves—pity. She noticed for the first time that Kai's face was scratched and a circular bruise on her left cheek was in the yellowing stage. Sad as it doubtless was, this glimpse of mortality softened Gaia, easing her worries about her own appearance.

“Listen,” Kai said. “That was obviously awkward for you back there. If it makes you feel better, you weren't walking in on anything. Ed and I are just friends now. I was on my way out, anyway.”

“Okay, thanks,” Gaia said, barely able to look Kai in the face. What had made her run away like that? Even if Ed and Kai were still together, why should that have any impact on Gaia?

It must have been the fear talking, but what was it trying to say?

THERE WAS A KNOCK AT THE DOOR.

“Come in!” Ed Fargo said from his reclined position in the hospital bed.

The door creaked open, and Ed watched as Gaia's face drifted slowly past the threshold and into the room. Her body followed just
as slowly and in such a humble, almost fragile way that Ed couldn't fully convince himself that this was Gaia.
The Gaia.
Never in his life had he seen her like this. Slumped over, eyes averted, all the things that Gaia had never been. Defeated. Delicate. Timid.

“Hi,” Gaia said softly. “I'm back.”

That remains to be seen
, Ed thought. He noticed the way she was obsessively fiddling with her hands. That familiar sense of concern washed over him—concern for the well-being of Gaia Moore.

“I'm glad,” Ed said in his most reassuring tone. “You seemed pretty determined to get out of here.”

“Whatever,” Gaia said, hoping to avoid any further discussion on the subject. “How are you?”

“Better, actually. How do I look?”

It was a deliberate ploy to get Gaia to finally face him, to look him in the eyes. But somehow, in that way she had perfected over years of ignoring the people that mattered most to her, Gaia managed to inspect Ed's face and upper body without catching his eyes. She surveyed him objectively, like a gardener checking a plot of land for weeds.

“Honestly?” Gaia asked.

“Of course,” Ed said.

“You've looked better.”

Ed laughed. “Yeah, well, I've felt better. But the doctor said I was lucky. At first he thought I'd fractured my spine and would have to undergo major surgery.” Ed
noticed, with distinct satisfaction, the flash of concern on Gaia's face. “But as it turns out, most of the injuries were just bad surface bruises. Hematomas or melatomas, you know, some sort of ‘oma.'”