Once We Were

Eva.

The scrape of our fingernail against a coverlet.

<Eva?>

I woke.

Before sight, before sound, before smell or speech or feeling—was Addie.

Then came the first thought, as the world inked itself back into existence around me:

<I’m back. I came back.>

We were still sitting on the bed, our knees drawn against our chest, our fingernails digging into the blue- and-white patterned coverlet.

Addie stared at the girl in the mirror, who stared back. I struggled to reorient myself. Everything felt at once too sharp, too real, and not real enough. I hurt with the memory of—of what?

I wasn’t sure. There had been so many memories, memories mixed in with dreams—truth swirled together with lies and hopes and fantasy.

Nathaniel. I’d dreamed about Nathaniel. For a second, his face floated back to me, how he and Lyle had looked as a baby. Addie and I had been four years old when he was born. We’d stood on tiptoe to stare down at him in his cradle, his hair so light and fine it looked like he didn’t have any hair at all.

<How long—>

<Twelve minutes.> Addie’s voice was steady, but I felt the force of will it took to keep it that way.

Twelve minutes. Twelve minutes of my life excised. In a way, it was no different from sleeping at night or taking a nap during the day. But I wondered if I could think the same once I started going under for hours at a time.

<Did you—>

<I just stayed here.> Addie plucked at the coverlet. <What did you dream about?>

<Nathaniel.> The image of him was fading. He was just a blurry face now, a baby that could be any baby. <I think. It—it’s hard to remember.>

<It always is> Addie murmured. <Once you wake up.>

<Are you okay?> I remembered my first time alone after Hally and Devon had drugged us. I remembered how Addie had been at thirteen, after her first time alone, her fear burning in the back of our throat.

Addie shifted, leaning back against the headboard. The wood was cool against our shoulders. <Yeah. I’m okay.>

I’d had a month to get accustomed to being the sole occupant of our body. But this was Addie’s first taste of it in nearly three years.

Funny, how I was more experienced than Addie at something. Me. The recessive soul.

<You’re sure?> I said.

<I’m sure. I’ll—I’ll get used to it.>

Despite her words, Addie had more trouble than I did, both with dealing with my disappearances and with going under herself. Sometimes, instead of properly fading away, she slipped in and out of consciousness, jerking to and from the space next to me with such a dizzying tug and pull that I felt seasick. Sometimes, we sat there for half an hour and nothing happened at all.

But when I least expected it, I’d feel that lurch that meant she’d gone. The sudden emptiness, like a part of the world had dropped away. And it would stay like that.

The third time it happened, I sat very still, as I had both times before. Again, I was hyperaware of everything. Every breath. The brush of our clothes on our skin. A wisp of hair against our cheek.

I wrinkled our nose. My nose, for the moment.

The last few practices had lowered my hopes for this one, and Addie’s sudden success left me blindsided.

Suddenly, I had the uncontrollable itch to move. I couldn’t sit here another second—I jumped to my feet. Paced the room. The bedroom door was shut, as usual. The faint noise of Nina’s television program filtered in; she never turned it up very loud.

I stared at the door.

I crossed over, twisted the doorknob, and swung the door open. I’d never left our bedroom before—not alone in my skin.

Nina sat curled up on the couch, picking at the bowl of chocolate candies Emalia left on the coffee table. A small pile of bright foil wrappers lay at her feet. She glanced up as I passed, giving me a quick smile. I smiled back. She turned back to her TV show. No questions. No comment. No suspicions.

No idea. She had no idea.

Why should she?

The thought made me a little sick with the wrongness of it. Here I was, without Addie, and no one knew. How could no one know? How could it not be stamped on my forehead? Shining from my eyes?

I had the sudden urge to eat one of Emalia’s chocolates. See if it still tasted the same with Addie gone. Was sugar as sweet? Sweeter? But I made myself continue onward, toward the front door. With every step, a new feeling started to overwhelm the initial wrongness, the initial sickness in my stomach. A new, dizzy, giddy feeling—like being on the crest of a wave, staring at the fast-approaching shore. It swept me out into the hall, made me run up the stairs so fast I stumbled.

I pounded on Henri’s door. It swung open. I didn’t react fast enough. Ryan caught my wrist before I accidentally hit him in the chest.

“Eva?” he said.

I reached up and kissed him. Crushed my mouth to his. I pulled my wrist toward me and his hand with it. He threw out his other hand to steady himself on the doorframe. My heart pounded so hard I couldn’t hear anything else. I forgot where we were, who we were. I forgot if my feet were on the ground. I felt nothing but his lips eager against mine and his fingers through my hair, against the nape of my neck. He released my wrist. Slid his hand up my arm, pushing at my sleeve. He pulled me closer, his back against the doorframe, supporting both of us.

I had to pause for breath, and in that beat of space, Ryan managed to say, “What about Addie?”

“Gone,” I said. “Devon?”

He laughed softly in the back of his throat. “Gone.”

So I kissed him again. Because I wanted to. And I could. The giddiness was back, stronger. I laughed, and Ryan eased away, looking down at me.

“What?” He was smiling.

But so many weeks of waiting, of wanting, of thinking and hoping and daydreaming were catching up to me. Then he was laughing, too, shaking his head, the edge of his hand pressing against his forehead. A woman coming down the hallway gave us a nonplussed look, which only set us off harder.

I loved this. Laughing. Smiling. Kissing Ryan.

In that moment, I believed if I could spend the rest of my life laughing, smiling, and kissing Ryan, things would be just fine.

Addie slipped back into consciousness just in time to feel me slide to the ground, laughing so hard I could barely breathe.