chapter fifty-nine

“I—I—” The usual feelings: panic, embarrassment, dull shame. The usual questions: Where am I? How did I get here? How long have I been here?

“It’s all right.” He smiled, wide and warm, and I felt myself relax. We were holding hands. Shiro! That slut! Thank God I’d already let Patrick think he was dumping us. (Yes, “let him think,” that was my official story for George and I was by-God sticking to it.) “Everything’s fine. Nobody’s watching, and who cares if they are?”

“Okay.” I knew I shouldn’t care what strangers thought, but I did. I glanced around, not wanting to pull out my phone and seem rude.

“What time is it?” he asked gently.

Good question! Where was a clock? Where was my watch? Why had I never taught myself to tell time by the sun? How could I have forgotten to learn to tell time by the sun? “I don’t—”

“You’ve lost time again, haven’t you?” He said those terrifying words in a tone that if it had been one bit less kind, would have sent me flying from the body and leaving Adrienne to deal with the consequences of my terror. I was a grown woman, but that sentence, that concept

(Freak.)

(You’ve lost time again.)

still had the capacity to terrify me, as it had since the first time

(Freak.)

I heard it at age six.

“You don’t know where we are, do you?”

I stared at him, then down at our hands. Our clasped hands.

Hmm.

“You don’t remember how you got here, right?” There was a half-eaten Rice Krispie bar on his plate—yum! I realized the closest to breakfast I’d come that day was the syrup in my hair and a third of a waffle. He followed my gaze, then pushed the plate over. “D’you want this? Knock yourself out.”

I grabbed the delicious, luscious, wonderful, crispy Krispie bar. Mmm, crunchy cereal held together with a God-sent glue of butter and marshmallows. Bliss on a plate!

“And hey, don’t worry about the time, but if it’s really bugging you, go ahead and pull out your phone. Just don’t Tweet. I’m begging you.”

I laughed, lightly spraying him with crispy Krispies, and then nodded. I swallowed, summoned courage from somewhere, and said, “I don’t know what time it is, and I don’t know how I got here. But I’m glad to see you.”

He smiled and squeezed my hand. “Yeah. I’m glad to see you, too…?”

“Cadence,” I said, answering his obvious, if unspoken, question. “The chilly one is Shiro.”

“Chilly!” He burst out laughing and I felt myself blush. “Not the first word that springs to mind!”

“I see. That’s probably why I tasted Rice Krispie bar before I actually bit into a Rice Krispie bar. Slut!”

At that, Max Gallo laughed so hard he nearly fell out of his chair. For a wonder I didn’t mind, and I didn’t look around to see if we were being stared at. I just ate the rest of his bar and thought that I wouldn’t trade my life for anyone’s, not ever.

When he calmed down, he asked, “And Adrienne?”

“She’s our wild child.”

“The one who likes ‘The Wheels on the Bus.’”

“Oh my God,” I gasped, shocked. “You know about that?”

“She sings it when we’re on the motorcycle. And she loves SpongeBob SquarePants.”

“She’s got a crush on Plankton,” I mumbled into the plate.

“And oatmeal cookies.”

I threw up my hands. “Yes. And yes and yes. And it gets a lot weirder than that before it gets un-weird, so you should probably—oh.” He’d leaned across the table again and kissed me. “Well. There’s that, too, I guess.”

Then, apropos of nothing, but maybe not, he asked—told me, rather—“George is a sociopath.”

“Oh, yeah.” I studied him. “What’d you do before you ran a blood bank?”

“All kinds of sordid things and I promise to tell you about every one of them. I only ask because he did call Maureen and I think they’re going out. My receptionist,” he added, which was a good thing because I’d forgotten all about that flirtatious skank. “And if he hurts her in any way, I’ll—”

“What?” I was peeved to be peeved. “What is she to you?”

He gave me a look, like What, you have to ask? “My employee. Whom I look out for. And if she went out with a sociopath she never would have met if she didn’t work for me, I’ve got a responsibility to make sure he doesn’t do something that would result in me pulling his balls out through his throat.”

“Oh my God.”

“What?”

“Kiss me.”

“Okay.” Bemused, he obliged. Happily, if I was any judge. He was a splendid kisser. And Shiro had beaten me to it! If only I could scratch her eyes out without scratching out my own.

After buying me another bar, he seemed to sense I wouldn’t mind a little privacy and got up to browse the shelves for a bit. I was more grateful for that understanding than I could say, and I used the time to check my phone, find out the time, figure out how I’d come to be at—well, look at that! The Barnes and Noble in downtown Minneapolis. Not far from BOFFO, though I wasn’t going near that building before Monday morning. Right or wrong, liar or protector, Michaela was gonna be pissed. I’d always thought the whole “Don’t put off until tomorrow” thing was glorified hype.

When Max came back, carrying two graphic novels, he sat across from me and asked, “D’you mind if I ask some annoying clinical questions?”

“I would have before the Rice Krispie bar. But now all the butter and sugar is surging through my system and I feel soothed. Fire away.”

“I was wondering if reintegration is the goal.”

“Mmm-hmm.” Shiro had gotten herself tea, and by now it was almost cool enough for me to drink without getting a second-degree burn on my tongue. That girl could drink lava. “Yeah, and has been since diagnosis. There wasn’t any progress for a long time, but last year my doctor was able to take me back to the split event.”

“That must have been fun.” His deep voice was rich with sympathy. “Tax audit fun.”

“Oh, God, nothing’s that bad. But yeah, stressful,” I agreed, and he smiled at my understatement. “I’ll horrify you with the gory details later. Since then, things are … different.” I thought about it. “Better. It’s hard to explain. I’ll tell you what: three years ago, you and I could not be sitting here having this conversation.”

“Not least because I was in jail.”

“What? When? What’d you do?”

He waved it away. “Nothing too horrible, I promise. You know I don’t have a record. Let’s get back to you.”

I allowed it because I did know he didn’t have a record. But I was gonna get every bit of his backstory out of him, no matter how long it took. That should have sounded exhausting, but to me the prospect was more exciting than anything else.

“Are Shiro and Adrienne okay with integration?”

“They weren’t when we were younger. I couldn’t blame them—it’s death for them, of a sort. But it’s sort of happening on its own these days. It wouldn’t be if they were fighting it.” I stared into my tea for a minute. “Like I said, it’s hard to explain. When I was younger, I was aware of the other two, like we were separated by strong, thick glass. We could never touch, but we could see and hear. These days it’s like the glass between us is turning to mist. Really slowly—like it could still take years.”

“It might.”

I nodded again. “And that’s okay. Because when we were younger, we hardly ever worked together. It was like girls fighting over a doll, only the doll was our body. These days we don’t fight so much. We share it.”

I thought of the recording Shiro left me, and how by the end it was a conversation, not a message. That had never happened before. “These days they’re close enough to touch. Sometimes we almost can. I know it, even if I can’t describe it.”

“You’re describing it very well,” he said, squeezing my (sticky) hand.

“It’s funny … Shiro could always look through my eyes at the world, but recently I’ve been able to look through hers. Stuff’s been happening lately that I didn’t need her to deal with because I couldn’t face it. I needed her to deal with it for her sake, not to save myself. It’s different. It’s all changed.” I smiled at him. “I kind of can’t wait to see what the three of us are gonna do next.”

He laughed. “You can’t?”

“Yeah, sure, say that now. Wait till Adrienne papers your office in old Highlights magazine covers.”

“I loved Goofus and Gallant!”

“And I’m a virgin.”

He blinked. “Okay.”

“Abrupt, right?”

“I’m fine with abrupt.”

That’s a really good thing. “If we’re gonna make this work, I wanted you to know. The body isn’t a virgin. Shiro’s not, I mean.” She hadn’t ever been in love, but she’d been curious. And the men she’d picked—not many, and not often—were kind. Kind of dull, frankly … or was I now comparing every man to Max Gallo? And speaking of Max, I’d better get back to the conversation I was having with him.

“And we don’t know about Adrienne. Thanks to her I’ve woken up next to a strange guy now and again, but they might have gotten together to, I dunno, herd ducks or whatever. I never … not with them. With anyone.” I ventured a glance into his face. “I’m aware how weird it must sound even as I’m saying it.”

He leaned back and closed his eyes. “Thank God.”

“Yeah, it’s okay. You’re right to be weirded out and repul—what?”

“It’s fine with me.”

“Why?”

He laughed at how suspicious I sounded, scooted his chair closer, and hugged me. “Because I’m a perv? You’re right to be wary; it sounds like a pervy reaction, doesn’t it? Look, it’s fine with me that Shiro’s got experience and you don’t. It’s better than fine. It’s actually pretty great, and not just for me. Okay, for me. She’ll know what she wants, which—trust me—is so fucking hot for a guy.”

“It is?” Maybe I should be writing this stuff down.

“And I’m enough of an ego-driven dick to be proud to hopefully someday be your first, and glad to know that it won’t hurt you. And I like ducks. If Adrienne wants to herd ducks and then go to sleep, that’d be great, too.”

I snorted laughter and hugged him back. “I don’t know when I’ll be ready.”

He kissed me twice, below both eyes. “It doesn’t matter. I’ll be here. Check your phone. We’ve got a date a hundred years from now.”