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Is it there, but quiet?
No. I hold my breath and listen and find I also don’t need to breathe. It feels good to do it, though. It feels good to inhale sweet early summer and morning flowers in bloom and a scent that I want to call sunshine.
I let out a laugh at that. What does sunshine smell like? This, I guess. Like holding hands with Daisy.
I put a hand over my heart, then at my neck. Still no heartbeat.
“I did it,” I announce to the flawless sky. “I did it.”
“Did what?”
I’m not startled, exactly. I don’t think anything here would hurt me, but I didn’t know it wasn’t empty. Anticipation feels like fresh air. Excitement feels like more sunshine.
I push myself to sitting, and—
“Mom!Mom.” No idea what I do to get to my feet, only that I’m looking up at her, and then I’m looking down into her face. I’mtouchingher face. I’m touching her, my hands on her cheeks, and she grins up at me, her eyes shining. They’re my eyes, the color of honey, and she gave me my curly hair, and I never thought—I never— “Mom.”
“Hercules.” One of her hands rises to cover mine, and it feels sosmall.
“You shrank.”
She laughs, and here, in this place, there’s nothing but delight in it. No hidden stress. No pain. No fear. “You grew.”
“I missed you.”
Her smile softens. “I’ve been here. I hope you didn’t worry.”
“Mom.” I twist one of her curls around my finger and an old, old memory floats in. How little was I? Young enough to sit in her lap. I’d been resting there, my head on her shoulder, playing with her curls. The background is a blur. It doesn’t matter where we were, only that we were together. “Of course I worried. You’re in an empty field.”
She wrinkles her nose. “Empty?”
“There’s nothing here but grass and daisies. And a few trees, I guess. How can you live in the trees?”
“Is that all you see?”
I lift my eyes from her face, but I keep my hands where they are. I don’t want her to disappear.
“Yep. Grass. Flowers. Trees. Sky. It’s a beautiful morning, but it’s not a life. I guess it doesn’t have to be one, if—”
“You can’t see it,” she says softly. “Here.”
My mom puts her hand over my eyes. If I still had a heartbeat, it would pound at the idea of being lost in the dark—what if I can’t find her?—but my heart isn’t beating, and all I feel is the mildest chill in my lungs.
“What are you—”
“Look now.” She uncovers my eyes.
“It’s still the sa—”
I never finish saying it’s the same, because it’s not true.
The field is still there. The grass, the daisies, the trees, the sunrise.
But the hazy, unbroken line of trees has opened to reveal a lush valley. A sparkling river. Houses tucked nearby. Behind them, light glints off a small lake and onto a blonde woman sitting on the shore, whistling at a fluffy white bird. A dark-haired man sits behind her, his head bowed to kiss her shoulder, and even from this far away, I can tell they’re in love. I can hear her laughing at him. A name likeJames.This is what I imagine a painting of paradise would look like.
It all blurs into a fuzzed-out palette of greens and blues, the tree trunks reduced to dark streaks on the periphery. I might not need to breathe or have a heart that beats, but I can still cry.
My mom puts her arm around my waist and leans her head against me. I wrap my arm around her shoulder and look and look and look.ShouldI have sent Daisy back? This place is wonderful, and she would love it. Nothing would hurt her here, either.
