The Phantom Limb (4 page)

Isaac needed to get his mind off school, so he went to get the mirror box, hoping it would distract him. There was something that attracted him to it intensely, more than any of his other optical illusions. It was a little scary to be so obsessed with something a dead amputee boy may have used. He kept thinking about the way the boy seemed to be staring at him from his picture.

But it was still only the beginning.

 

SAAC GOT UNDRESSED AND CLIMBED INTO BED. But he couldn't sleep. The mirror box was on his desk, next to his computer. He got up, turned on the overhead light, sat down at his desk, and slid both his hands into the mirror box. While he looked in the mirror, he clenched and unclenched his right hand.

This time, the reflection of his hand in the mirror didn't move.

He cried aloud and jerked out his hands as fast as lightning.

The hand in the mirror remained where it was.

Now Isaac was terrified. “What
is
this?” he shouted, forgetting about not waking up Grandpa. It was
impossible! How could there still be a hand in there when he had already removed his? He must be dreaming it.

Something made him slide his arms back into the box; they felt prickly, as if they'd fallen asleep. He let them rest on the bottom of the box without moving.

Suddenly, the hand in the mirror waved at him, as if in greeting.

He cried out again, but this time he left his hands in the box, watching for the hand in the mirror to make its next move. The moves did not match Isaac's hand. More and more it began to seem—even while being impossible—that the hand in the mirror was not a reflection.

Isaac couldn't fall asleep that night. He was too excited about the mirror box. He sat up in bed, leaned close to his desk, and peered back into the right side of the mirror. The impossible hand wasn't there.

Maybe he
had
imagined the whole thing. He hoped his mind was just playing tricks on him.

Did he dare put his hands inside it again and see what happened? He got out of bed and paced around the room, trying to decide what to do, walking softly so as not to wake Grandpa.

He was scared. But he was also very curious. He approached the mirror box slowly. His entire emotional reaction to it had changed. Before, it had almost glowed with fascination. Now its appearance was morbid, sinister. He put his fingertips into the holes, closed his eyes, and moved his hands into the box. He stood there for a long moment with his eyes squeezed shut, afraid to open them. But he couldn't resist. He opened them and looked at the right mirror.

He wasn't prepared for what he saw. He managed not to scream, but just barely. The hand in the mirror was holding something. Isaac focused his eyes to study what the hand held.

It was a smiley face button.

He had had one like it when he was younger, but this one was different. This one was woven. And this smile wasn't happy. No, it was cynical. Mocking. Isaac couldn't believe it. Was he going crazy? Was he hallucinating? He couldn't stand it a second longer. He pulled out his hands.

The hand in the mirror box waved the cloth face at him and pulled out too.

Isaac sank down onto his bed feeling exhausted. But he was too nervous—too scared—to sleep. What
was going on here? How could the mirror box be doing this insane thing? Showing him a creepy, weird smiley face. Who was behind it? How could they be doing it? And why?

And that was when the thought first occurred to him: Maybe the phantom limb in the mirror box was trying to tell him something.

 

SAAC WAS STILL AWAKE WHEN HIS ALARM clock went off. He was very drowsy, and it took him a moment to get his bearings. Then it came back to him: the mirror box.

During the night he had put the haunted box in his closet so that the awful specter would be out of sight. But he hadn't been able to stop thinking about it. As a result, he hadn't gotten any sleep at all.

He toyed with the idea of skipping school. After all, he could use the excuse that his mother was in the hospital.

It was seven
A.M
. Isaac dressed and went downstairs. Unbelievably, Grandpa was already in the
kitchen, sitting at the table. His hair was still unkempt, but at least his shirt was buttoned the right way.

Isaac sighed as he fried a couple of eggs and then put them on plates for the two of them. It was hard enough dealing with his own problems; being responsible for Grandpa was an added burden.

“How … is she doing?” Grandpa asked suddenly, startling Isaac.

So Grandpa wasn't lost in his own world, as he usually was.

“Well, it's hard to tell how she—” Isaac's cell phone rang, interrupting the conversation. Who could be calling?

“Hi, Ize,” said his mother, sounding a little hoarse.

“Mom?” He hadn't expected that she would be alert enough to call him.

“I'm not as sedated today,” Vera said. “Can you bring me some stuff before you go to school?”

His heart sank. Go back to the awful hospital again? But Vera was coherent; how could he refuse?

She wanted any bills that had collected and also her checkbook, the piano technique book she was reading, her music magazines, some cosmetics, and her glasses. It would all fit in his bicycle basket. Isaac sighed and said, “OK.”

When he reached the hospital, he again walked up the six flights of stairs.

When he got to Vera's floor, he was relieved to see a friendly face. Candi greeted him pleasantly at the nurses' station. “No school today?” she asked.

“Mom called and said she needed some stuff from home. She doesn't seem so out of it today. I figured I could help her and then go to school a little late.”

“Yes, fortunately Dr. Ciano decided your mother didn't need to be so sedated anymore.” Candi smiled, and her voice softened. “Is that a book about piano playing?” she asked, looking at the pile of things he held in his arms.

“Yeah,” he said.

“Don't forget to—”

“I know. Wash my hands,” Isaac interrupted her, and they both laughed.

Today Vera sat propped up in her narrow hospital bed, not dozing the way she was the last time. But now she had tubes in both of her hands. Dr. Ciano was there, standing on the other side of the bed. She was adjusting the new IV.

“Ize!” Vera said with a big smile. She was like a whole different person. “It's great to see you. Thanks so much for bringing my things.”

“Wait a minute. I have to wash my hands.” He put her stuff down on the bedside table.

Dr. Ciano looked up from the new IV line for a moment. “Oh, a book about piano playing,” she said. “I studied piano for a little while, but I wasn't any good at it. My brother was, though.” She sighed. “OK, all done.” She left the room without another word, but with her forced half smile.

Isaac took off his jacket and sat in the chair next to the bed. “What's happening?” he asked, looking around the room.

“Oh, you know. Always lots of fun around here.” Vera rolled her eyes. She wasn't as sedated, but she still seemed a little loopy. “What about your breakfast? Did you eat?” she asked him. “There's a café down in the lobby.”

“I made eggs. And guess what? When I got up, Grandpa was down there waiting, and he actually asked about you.”

“Really?” Vera said.

There was a knock on the door. It was Dr. Ciano again. She walked toward the bed.

“Oh. Hello again, Dr. Ciano,” Vera said nervously.

Isaac noticed that the doctor didn't wash her hands when she came in, which he found strange. He
stood up so she could sit in the chair next to the bed. But instead she remained standing, leafing through a sheaf of papers. “You may not remember,” she said to Vera, “but when you were admitted, we did an EEG. The EEG had some abnormalities, so I'd like to do some more extensive tests, like an MRI—just in case.”

“Abnormalities? What kind of abnormalities?” Isaac asked.

“They could be anything, really, but I'm sure it's nothing to worry about.”

“Oh,” Isaac said, glancing quickly at his mother.

Dr. Ciano looked at him. “What day is it? Shouldn't you be in school?”

“My mother asked me to bring her some stuff,” Isaac said, snapping at the doctor.

“Isaac,” Vera said, eyeing him. “Don't be rude.”

Dr. Ciano turned her attention back to Vera. “I'll be keeping you on the IVs until we have a better sense of what's wrong. I have to go now, but ring for one of the nurses if you need anything.”

“When will you be back?” Isaac asked.

“I may be going to an out-of-state conference soon, but don't worry—I'm always around,” the doctor said, and left the room.

“She's kind of weird, isn't she?” Isaac said very
softly. “What does all that mean, anyway? EEG and MRI?”

“They're different tests that measure brain activity,” Vera replied. “But you know, I can't figure out why this hospital came so highly recommended. Dr. Ciano is so
peculiar.
She makes me uneasy. I wonder what she's telling them to put into these IVs.” She yawned. “I'm feeling tired again. I might just close my eyes for a second,” she said, her voice shaky. She quickly drifted off to sleep.

Isaac stayed with her while she slept. As long as he was at the hospital he could use it as an excuse to skip school. Which was worse? The hospital or school? It was hard to choose.

Isaac reached into his backpack and pulled out his zombie book. It was a relief to concentrate on something else.

A couple of hours later, the door opened. Another patient was wheeled into the room. She had short gray hair and a look of authority about her, despite being a patient. Isaac hated that she was there. And the commotion woke Vera, who looked surprised at first. After a moment she pulled herself together and greeted her new roommate warmly.

“Hi, I'm Vera, and this is my son, Isaac.”

“Esther Kaplan. Nice to meet you both.”

Candi entered the room and attached the new patient's IV bag to the permanent pole. “I'm sure you two will get along very well,” she said. “Vera's a pianist. And you?”