Page 73 of Plain Sight

I look.

This isn’t any nightmare I’ve ever had. This is a wide green field with trees in the distance, all the grass dotted with tiny daisies. A river glints in the forest. A path.

“Hi.” Daisy waves.

“Uh…hi?” I wave back.

“Hi,” another voice answers, and I’m on my feet before I’ve made the decision to move. I’ve fully jumped up from the ground and spun in a wild circle, because that is my mom’s voice, and that’s her, and that’s my dad, and they’re both just here in the field and then their arms are around me and my mom is laugh-crying in my ear and my dad is saying I missed you so much, buddy and I can’t breathe, I can’t breathe, because this is impossible. This is an impossible dream. It’s a dream. I’m asleep.

“Sort of,” my mom says, still laughing. Her laugh is just like Remy’s. “But in another way, you’re awake.”

“This is embarrassing. I went crazy,” I say into her hair. She feels just like she did when she was still alive. “I have to be crazy. Oh, fuck—am I dead? Fuck. Dad, you’re going to be so disappointed.”

“That’s bullshit.” His voice is so similar to Mason’s. I’d forgotten how much they sounded alike. I guess now Mason sounds like Dad used to. I guess he grew into it. “You have to stop beating yourself up, Jamie.”

“But—” A knot in my throat makes it hard to talk. “I wasn’t there. I didn’t know until the cop showed up.”

“Is he crazy?” my dad stage-whispers to my mom. “He doesn’t know?”

“For Christ’s sake, James! Don’t tease your own son.”

Dad clears his throat. “I’m sorry. That was wrong of me. I sincerely apologize for⁠—”

I burst out laughing. “I forgot you were like this.”

“Wow,” he says, fake offense ringing in his voice. “My own son.”

“You were there.” My mom kisses my cheek. “Don’t you remember our hands?”

“Paff.” Daisy’s voice comes from roughly knee-height.

I look down at her through the circle of my mom’s arms. “What?”

“Paff.” She puts a hand on her hip and stares up at me, eyes narrowed, then inhales her stuffed cat deeply, as if she’s exhausted from dealing with me. “Paff. Paff.”

“Path,” my mom says. “The path. You showed us the path.”

Daisy runs around in a circle, crouching down to pick a bouquet of daisies. A tiny black cat streaks through the grass at her feet, batting at the flowers with its paws. I would say oh, hey, I know that cat, but—what path?

“How? Am I Jesus?”

“God, I hope not. Talk about a cross to bear.”

“James.”

“Listen, son. You’re okay. You had a bad dream, but it’s over. Let it be over. You got us here in one piece. It’s great. We’ve had plenty of time to work out all our former issues. I kicked Cy’s ass.”

“Charlotte’s dad? You saw him?”

“Of course I did. And you should see how your mother looks when she’s⁠—”

“James.”

The bits of green I can see are getting less green, and I pull my face back on instinct. My mom’s eyes are just the same. Still blue, like Remy’s. And she’s happy. She’s not burned. She’s good.

“You’re okay.” Even her smile is the same. “We love you.”

“Of course we love you.” My dad squeezes my shoulder. He looks a lot more like Mason than I realized. And Gabriel, too. Maybe even me. “You’re Jesus.”