Me and Me

  “That makes a weird sort of sense.”

  “Nothing makes sense. Okay, so . . .” I try to stay focused, try to think what to do. I haven’t planned this, and I don’t even know what to ask. “How about we go back to the beginning. That’s what Mom’s song says to do.”

  “Mom’s song? I don’t know what you mean.”

  “You didn’t get the letter?”

  “No—Dad was so sick . . .”

  “What do you mean? Is he okay?”

  “I think so.”

  “Oh God, I . . . we have to stay in this life. In this life, Dad is fine. He’s not seriously sick. The beginning. We have to go back. Think: What exactly did you do that day? I mean, at the lake. That’s when all this started, right?”

  “Nothing. I mean, at first, I didn’t know what to do. I froze.”

  “So did I.”

  “Suzanne was pleading. Telling me to do something.”

  “Yes. Same here. But I didn’t know what to do.” I remember the time passing.

  “It didn’t seem very long.” She runs her hands through her short hair. “But by then it was too late to save them both.”

  “Do you think we could have? Saved them both, I mean?”

  “We’ll never know. Once I finally got moving, I turned to Annabelle.”

  “How could you leave Alec? There was no one near him. I was the only one. He was already under.” I remember how I pushed myself under his heavy arms, treading water madly, holding him up. He was losing consciousness, his eyes closing. She’s not breathing! Martin’s voice carried over the water. Alec leaned his wet head against me. I kicked and floundered—

  “How could you pick Alec over Annabelle?” she asks, interrupting the memory. “How could you pick him over her?”

  I fold my arms across my chest.

  “She’s a child. I swam as fast as I could toward her. When I reached her, I was coughing and spitting lake water, but I grabbed her. It was hard to get my arms around her red life jacket, but I managed to turn her face up. Her skin was the colour of dusk. Then she coughed up a plume of water, gagging and spluttering.”

  “There was no one near Alec. You should have saved him.”

  “Yeah? Well, I didn’t. What do you want? How did you even get here?”

  “By going to Annabelle—she’s like a doorway, a portal to you.”

  “Lucy talked about portals.”

  “Right, okay, but the point is I’m here to tell you that we have to save him now. From them turning off his machines. Because I’m not sure how this all works, Lark. But what if him dying in your life means he dies in mine? I can’t bear it. You don’t get it: he’s the love of our life. You have to stop them pulling the plug. Tell them he’s alive.”

  “He’s alive in your life, but he’s in a coma in mine. Think about it—you want me to go to the hospital and tell them to keep him alive, against the advice of the doctors, because he’s alive in a parallel world?” She stands.

  “Do you have any other ideas?”

  “Why do you even think it’s going to affect your life with him? I mean . . . maybe everything will be fine.” But she doesn’t look convinced.

  “Maybe. I’m just scared, Lark. I can’t live without him. I can’t.”

  “You’re asking me to go to the hospital and talk about parallel lives with a family who are losing their son. I can’t say something like that. Anyway, they’ll think I’m crazy. I’ve had enough of everyone thinking I’m making all this up—like Reid.”

  “Reid? I’ve hardly spoken to him in weeks. What else is going on in your life?”

  “They all think I’m crazy for shoplifting . . . that’s why I quit the show. Even though Martin Fields will be there.”

  “Shoplifting?” She glares at me but doesn’t speak. “Okay. Whatever.” I hold up both my hands. “The show? Martin Fields is going? Wow.”

  “Yeah. But not me. Like I said, everyone thinks I’m losing my mind. So they can just go ahead without me.”

  “I’m not doing the show either. I haven’t been to practices—I’m not ready. I’ve been spending all my time with Alec.”

  “Alec, Alec, Alec? Will you listen to yourself?” she murmurs. “Who even are you?”

  “Who the hell are you?” I spit, suddenly angry at her judging me.

  We fall silent, staring at each other.

  A whoosh of water floods over me.

  “Wait!” I say. “We still have to figure this out. We’ve got to stop fighting each other. We’re in this together—”

  Then I’m swept up by frigid water, struggling to keep from drowning. This time it’s even more terrifying. I cannot survive this—I’m going to die. But moments later, I’m back in the hospital room, where the doctor with oddly coloured eyes is angrily telling me to let go of Annabelle’s hand.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Day 44: late morning

  Dad is out. Alec and I are in my bed, and he has pinned my arms above my head, our hands entwined in my long hair, the covers half over our almost-naked bodies. He stares into my eyes.

  We’re listening to Glass Animals. My favourite of their songs is coming to an end. The possibility of this ending tomorrow is killing me. Alec dying tomorrow, Alec who is kissing me now, softly at the corner of my mouth, is impossible. But I don’t know what else to do—unless I try to get to Annabelle again. But I’m pretty sure the hospital has Annabelle’s room on lockdown after yesterday—the doctor was furious at me. I can only hope that Lark in the other life is going to do something.

  I feel paralyzed. That’s what it is—just like I felt on the lake that day.

  Alec slides my underwear down. Momentarily tangled, I kick it from my feet. He runs his hand up my inner thigh. His stubble rubs against my cheek. I still have my hands in my hair, and when I try to bring them down to touch him, he uses one hand to grip them above my head, like he did once before. He teases me with kisses on each corner of my mouth, then trails kisses down my neck to my collarbone. I arch my body toward him, my breasts and stomach against his hard chest and abs. He opens my legs with his and pushes me into the bed. I gasp and close my eyes. The music washes over me, lyrics about sleeping with someone else. I wonder what the other me is doing—is she sleeping with someone else?

  Alec says, “Are you crying?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Just fine?”

  “More than fine. Don’t stop.”

  Later, we get dressed and hit the kitchen before Dad comes home—he left early this morning without realizing that Alec had spent the night. Alec heads to the washroom, and I message Nifty.

  Lark:

  Hope tonight goes well.

  Nifty:

  Thanks for nothing.

  Lark:

  Nifty, don’t be like that.

  Then I text Reid.

  Lark:

  Get Nifty to forgive me.

  Have such a great night.

  Reid:

  We’ll miss you.

  Lark:

  Next time—promise.

  We’ll work this out.

  Alec comes up behind me and I jump, sliding the phone, face down, across the table.

  “You’re messaging Reid?” he asks.

  “Is that a big deal?”

  He shakes his head, but not before I’ve seen his jaw clench. “Course not.”

  “I was just wishing the band luck tonight.”

  He sits down across from me. I reach over the table to hold his hand. The house smells of the coffee we’re brewing. I say, “Should we use travel cups? Go for a walk?”

  He flips over my hand and traces a pattern on my palm. When the coffee is ready, I watch him fill our mugs. I need to be in the moment and not anticipating the future, not stressing about what will happen to Alec if he dies in the other life. I need to be with him right now. If being split into parallel lives has taught me anything, it’s to live the one life I’ve got the best I can.

  We walk and walk, drinking our coffees. When we
get hungry, we decide to stop to grab takeout sandwiches. The decision isn’t one we really talk about; we’re just hungry and so we eat. Mom told me once that what she loved about my dad was that the relationship was easy. With Alec it’s easy. Time vanishes; the hours slip by.

  We hold hands, loosely, comfortably, and neither of us speaks for a while. I wonder how the band is doing, and my feet lead us toward Lydia’s.

  Grinning goofily, we swing hands as we walk. I can’t help but peek through the window of Lydia’s, even though if Nifty or anyone else spotted me, it would be the worst. The band’s on stage. And Nifty is singing in my place.

  “He’s good.” Alec’s voice makes it clear he’s impressed.

  “Yeah, I guess.”

  We turn to the river. Finding a secret, sandy patch, we start gathering sticks to build a little fire. We listen to music on my earbuds together, Alec huddled to my right. It’s all very primitive and modern. Night falls. We talk about nothing and everything. I watch the flames and feel the heat on my hands, the chill at my back.

  “Alec, can I ask you something?”

  “Sure.” He puts his hands behind his head and leans back on the grass.

  “You know that time you had a bruise. Was it . . . was it your dad who did that?”

  Alec looks straight up at the sky. “Do you know the name of that star?”

  I rest my head against his chest. I follow his lead and lightly tease him. “You’re pulling the star-gazing trick?”

  “Yeah,” he says, sliding one arm under my waist. “I tell you the name of stars, then get into your pants. Oh, I forgot, I already got into your pants.”

  I giggle and kiss him on his chin. We fall quiet.

  “My dad hits me, yeah. Not all the time. He’s great, really. But then he gets mad. It’s like a flipped switch. So yes, the bruise was from him. It’s why I was stressed out for a while.”

  “Sorry. I don’t mean to . . .”

  “S’okay. He won’t let us leave. Says it looks bad. Mom gets the worst of it, but when I’m around, I try to keep him off her. Sometimes I win. Sometimes he does.” He clicks his tongue against his bottom lip, the piercing there momentarily catching the firelight.

  “Can’t you call the police?”

  He clenches his jaw. Shadows flicker across his face. “I don’t want him to end up in jail. Even thinking about it makes me . . .” He doesn’t finish the sentence. Sitting up, he shifts me from his chest and kisses me on the top of my head.

  We kiss for a while. But I can tell he’s distracted, and the conversation about his dad has made him sad.

  “Wanna do some climbing?” I ask. “The bridge is right here.”

  Alec nods. He douses the fire with a can of pop.

  Reid:

  Feeling okay?

  Second set doesn’t start for 30 mins—

  if you’re even feeling a bit better, come . . .

  Alec sees it. His face clouds. “Booty call?”

  “No, Alec. Of course not.”

  He nods minimally, refusing to look at me. “Come on, let’s climb.” He scrambles up the slope, and I follow.

  “Alec, wait. He’s just a friend.”

  He calls back, “It’s no big deal.” The words say one thing, but his voice is terse.

  “You know I love you, right?”

  He pulls himself onto the bridge. I try to catch up, but he’s already hitched himself onto the metal slats above me and is moving like a monkey. I scramble and heave myself, my muscles tight, my breath heavy, the fresh breeze doing nothing to cool me down.

  I look down. The water below is inky. The current is hard to detect from this height, but I have a sense of the river flowing somehow, and I imagine myself being pulled along. I start to tremble, and my muscles tighten more, making it impossible to climb.

  “Alec, don’t be like this,” I call up to him.

  “Then stop lying to me about Reid.”

  I slow my breathing and make myself focus. I move one hand, then one foot—slowly, slowly, concentrate. I come abreast of Alec as he’s sitting on one of the large horizontal metal beams. It’s maybe a third of a metre wide and about the length of a swimming pool, connecting two diagonal metal struts. It’s rusted. I rub a finger over it, find it cold and rough. Tears prick at my eyes, and my cheeks feel flushed. I smile at him, hoping he’ll get out of this mood.

  “I’m not lying about Reid, Alec.” I slide closer to him.

  He says very softly, “But you are lying, Larkette. Don’t think I haven’t heard him call you that.”

  “He’s my friend.”

  “Your friend who wants to fuck you?” He reaches with his hand suddenly and grabs my forearm.

  “Alec!”

  “You think you can play games with me.” His grip is hard. Hard enough to bruise me. Fingers of shock seize at my heart.

  “Alec, please.” He doesn’t let go; if anything, he tightens his hold. “Alec, you’re hurting me.”

  “Yeah. That’s what happens when you hurt me.” His eyes glitter. “I trust you with . . . with all that stuff about my dad.”

  “You hardly told me anything!”

  “Just as well, when you do this.”

  “Do what? Get a text message?”

  “From your boyfriend.”

  “Let me go.”

  “Not until you tell me the truth.”

  “You’re not yourself.”

  “You’re the one who’s leading Reid on. Do you know what I did to my last girlfriend? She thought it was okay to sleep around too.”

  “To Sharbat? What did you do?”

  He tightens his vicelike hold. “What the hell do you whores expect?” His angry shout sounds exactly like his dad’s. And as I realize that, I see things I’ve been ignoring. I look at how I’ve isolated myself, at how he can be unpredictable, controlling . . . But no, I love him. He’d never hurt me. Except he is hurting me. My arm . . .

  I try to shake him off. I’ve been passive, but now I’m fighting. The beam is too narrow for any sort of struggle. We both wobble precariously.

  “Alec! Careful. We’re too high. We could fall.”

  His grip comes loose, and I yank my arm toward myself. His anger is gone. I see in his eyes my Alec. Suddenly he’s afraid.

  I pull away from him. “I’m leaving, Alec.”

  “Don’t go.” His expression is filled with remorse.

  “There’s somewhere I’ve got to be.”

  He reaches for me, but I’m already backing away along the beam, then turning, starting the climb down, away, away, away. If he followed, he’d be faster, and the fear of this spurs me on. But he doesn’t follow. He stays, a silent shadow far above.

  Day 44: dawn

  I make coffee and wrap up in a coat to go and sit outside as the dawn rises. I can’t believe that I ended up arguing with myself when she came to me—and what if she’s right? What if Alec is the love of our lives? Regardless. His parents can’t end his life when he’s alive in another world. Can they?

  Dad surprises me when he puts his hand on my shoulder. He too is holding a coffee cup. His face is stern. “Never do that again. Never ignore my calls.” His voice is very low and quiet—which only happens when he’s deadly serious. He steps down so he’s in front of me, and then he squats and stares me full in the face.

  “Dad . . . can we talk about this later?”

  “Are you kidding?” he explodes. “You don’t answer your phone. You come home while I’m out looking for you, worried sick. You pretend to be asleep when I come into your room.”

  “I wasn’t pretending. I was tired.”

  “You know what, Lark? You don’t get to ignore your phone like that. You don’t get to steal. You don’t get to behave like this.”

  “I know that.”

  “You’re not acting like you know anything. Iona was very brave to call me. Not a lot of seventeen-year-olds have got that kind of sense. Certainly not my own daughter.”

  “Okay, okay, enough.?
??

  He puts his cup down hard on the ground. “No, it is not enough. Do you understand how much trouble you’re in? Do you even remotely realize what you’re throwing away if you get caught? Stealing a chocolate bar is the same in the eyes of a store as stealing money from the till. They come down on you like a ton of bricks. Your whole future—college, jobs, everything—you’re risking it all. And what the hell is all this stuff about parallel lives?”

  I catch a glimpse of fear in his eyes. “Of course, you don’t believe me either.”

  He lifts both hands to his hair. “It’s too much.”

  “But it’s actually happening. I’m living two lives.”

  “You need to stop this, Lark. We need help. This is out of control. You are forbidden to leave the house today.”

  “You’re grounding me?”

  “And you’re going to a counsellor as soon as we can make an appointment.”

  “You can’t ground me.”

  “I’ll allow the show—I won’t make you miss that.”

  “I already quit, Dad. I’m not singing with those traitors.”

  “They are your friends. Iona is trying to help you.”

  “Some help.” I stand and turn to go into the house. “I’d better start my prison sentence now.”

  “Lark, we are not done talking.”

  “We are so done talking,” I yell, as I slam the door behind me and make my way upstairs.

  In my room, I listen to music and think about Alec lying in a coma for the last day of his life. I remember our day on the lake together. I remember how the other Lark talked about him. She came to my life on purpose, to talk to me, to figure out a way to make this separation in ourselves stop. And if she can get to me, then maybe I can get to her. What did Lucy say about portals? Could a portal take me to her like she came to me? Is there a portal in my life? What portal? She said Annabelle was hers. Is mine Alec? But his parents will soon turn off his life-support.

  I spend a couple of hours, my head pounding, trying to figure out a way to solve all this. I fall asleep—it’s always been my way of dealing with stress. When my mom died, I slept like I would never wake. It’s just the same as when I hesitated at the lake, not knowing what to do. I am paralyzed. And so I sleep. I try to wake, but I tumble into strange dreams and scary thoughts. Alec will die.