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A tremor passed through me, wringing me out. My whole body had become too leaden and feverish to bear. I wanted to push myself away from it. I wanted to be free.
Something in my face must have told Lucas how I was feeling, because his eyes went wide. He came to my side and put his hand to my cheek. For a second, he struggled for words, but then he gasped out, “I love you.”
“Love.” I couldn’t say anything else. Lucas’s face dimmed as the light in the room went away. It would be so easy to let go.
I gave in to the tide pulling me downward.
And then I died.
Chapter Twenty
NOTHING WAS CONNECTED ANY LONGER—THAT’S the only way I know how to describe it. For instance, I still understood that gravity was at work—I could feel the difference between earth and sky—but it didn’t seem to apply to me. I could drift upward or downward, and sometimes it felt like I was doing both at the same time.
After days of feeling my body ache worse, until at the end it had seemed as though nothing existed but weight and pain, I was now feather light and free. Yet it was an empty sort of sensation. I felt hollowed out. Lost.
I tried to open my eyes, but I realized that I could already see. What I saw made no sense, though. The entire world had blurred into a milky blue gray, through which shapes wafted without ever taking recognizable form. I tried to move, but although I was entirely unencumbered, my limbs didn’t seem to respond.
How long has this been going on? I thought. I had no sense of how quickly time was passing. I could’ve been like this for ten seconds or a year, and I couldn’t remember how to tell the difference. Silly, start by counting your breaths. Or your heartbeat. Either one will tell you.
But then I realized I had no heartbeat. Where my pulse should’ve been—the steady, unceasing warmth and rhythm right at the center of me—there was nothing.
The shock slammed into me, a blow that was somehow even stronger for having no body to strike. My terror slashed through the mist that surrounded me, and for a moment the scene cleared and I could see.
I remained in the wine cellar, although I no longer lay in bed. Instead, I seemed to be floating just beneath the ceiling. Below me, I could see myself, lying beneath the covers. My face was as pale as the sheets, and my eyes stared blankly.
Next to the bed, Lucas knelt, his forehead on the mattress next to my motionless hand. He’d covered his head with his arms, like he was trying to shield himself from something, although I didn’t know what. His shoulders shook, and I realized he was crying.
The sight of him in so much pain made me want to comfort him. Why didn’t I sit up and comfort him? I was lying right there.
Wait, that’s not me. I’m me. How could there be a difference between the person I saw lying in bed and the one who was seeing all this? None of it made any sense.
Lucas, I called. Lucas, I’m right here. Look up. Just look up. But I had no voice to speak with, no tongue or lips to shape my words.
To my astonishment, he lifted his head. Yet Lucas didn’t turn his face up toward me, and he didn’t even seem to have heard anything. His eyes were bloodshot and dull. Roughly he wiped at his cheeks with the back of his hand, then reached toward me—the me that lay on the bed. As I watched, both horrified and fascinated, he passed his fingers over my eyelids to shut them. That seemed to take the last of his strength, because as soon as he was done, Lucas slumped forward to lean against the metal bed frame, as motionless as the body in the bed. My body.
No. That couldn’t be right. I wasn’t going to think like that. Whatever was happening right now was a mistake, just a big mistake, and we could fix it once we finally figured out how.
I’d gotten through to him just now, hadn’t I? When I’d called Lucas, he’d heard me, even if he didn’t realize it. I had to call him again. Lucas, I’m right here. Right here. All you have to do is look at me.
He didn’t budge.
Maybe it would help if I got closer to him, I thought. But how was I supposed to do that? I didn’t quite understand how—or if—I could still move, since my body and I seemed to have become separated.
Then I looked at Lucas again and saw the sheer anguish on his face. He looked so desperately lost and alone. I wanted to hold him, to comfort him somehow—
And that wanting was like a tow line, pulling me from the ceiling down to his side. Suddenly I could feel the warmth of his body all around me, comforting as a blanket and I sensed that I’d broken through. “Lucas!”
He jerked backward. His eyes went wide, and Lucas pushed himself away from the bed, crawling back toward the corner.
Why was he scared? Lucas, I’m right here.
But already I could tell that he hadn’t heard the last thing I’d said, and I didn’t think he could see me. Lucas blinked a couple of times, then sagged back against the wall. No doubt he thought he’d imagined it.
Then all of a sudden, I couldn’t really see him either. The blue-gray mist closed in again, and once again I felt myself drifting, unanchored. Was I traveling up or down? Was I traveling at all? There wasn’t any way to tell.
I have to find my body again, I told myself. If I find my body, I can simply climb back inside. In my imagination, I saw it working a lot like getting into a sleeping bag and zipping it up. Seemed easy enough. So why couldn’t I find my body?
It’s not yours any longer.
