I’d thought it was such a harsh response, and Evey’s face scrunched up with sadness. She became disappointed about life and her future in an instant. And because I had no self-control with Evey, I refused to let her childhood heart be broken by a cynical and grumpy old woman.
That day I had moved into Mrs. Obernickle’s tubby body, with her stinky perfume, and knelt next to Evey and said, “But you will be a wonderful mother. Look at all the practice you’re getting now with your dollies. You have nothing to worry about. Babies and children are a joy and a blessing.”
She had smiled and hugged me—or hugged Mrs. Obernickle rather. Evey had always wanted to be a mother.
In that cold, sterile hospital room, I watched her trying her hardest to put on a brave face. But I could always see right through her, into her soul. I could see and feel the pain she was enduring after losing another baby. It was all my fault, and I might have been dying from the guilt alone.
“Mom,” Evey said from her bed. Jane turned to face her daughter. “I’m sorry we didn’t call you. They were running tests on Lucian, and I was feeling terrible.”
“I know, DD, but I could have been here for you both.” They hugged. Evey hadn’t been terribly close to her mother growing up. There was a lot of pressure on Evey to be perfect, especially from her mom, but I was sensing a change in both of them. Jane turned back to me. “Have they figured out why you had a seizure, you poor thing?”
“No. No explanation. Just a fluke, I guess.”Well, Jane, you see, I’m a guardian angel who is probably experiencing some sort of cosmic breakdown that is affecting the physical body I hang out in.
“It’s a very serious thing, you know?” She brushed my cheek with her smooth hand. In that moment, I wished I had had a mother.
“I know. I’m scared.”
She hugged me for the second time that day. “Don’t be scared. They’ll figure it out. Have faith.”
That word again.
Evey’s father entered the room and went straight to Evey. They had always been a lot closer than Evey and her mother. “Ah, DD, I’m so sorry, sweetie.”
Evey started crying. “I’m sorry too, Dad. I wanted to give you guys a grandchild so bad.”
Each word in that sentence felt like a knife being thrust into the center of my chest. With me, Evey would never be able to give her parents a grandchild; I knew that, and I was finally able to admit it.
A WEEK WENTby, then two, then three. We were able to clean up the loft and move in. It still needed a lot of work to make it the perfect work/living space, but Evey was knocking it out with relentless energy. I had never seen her so independent and determined. She was growing up… changing. Sometimes I felt like she didn’t need me anymore, like I was just a boat anchor holding her back. In a matter of a few months, Evey had gone from relying on Tracey and Brooklyn for everything, to getting what she needed done, all on her own. She’d also never stood up for herself the way she did now.
We hadn’t talked about anything serious since our last day in the hospital. We spent our time working on the loft and getting ready for Brooklyn’s wedding. Every day, I got weaker and weaker, but I kept it to myself. I hadn’t had another seizure. I also hadn’t told Evey anything about what I had heard that day while I was seizing on the floor of the San Francisco General Hospital lobby.
The night before Brooklyn’s wedding, I collapsed in the stairwell of the loft building. The elevator was being serviced, so I had to climb three flights. I was heaving and out of breath when Evey found me.
“What’s going on, Lucian?”
Holding my chest, I said, “I just need to catch my breath. I’ll be okay.”
She helped me to the top of the stairs, where we both sat.
“I’m ready to talk,” she said.
“Did you finish the speech for Brooke’s wedding?”
“Not about that.”
I shook my head and lifted my pant leg to reveal my calves, which had also begun to turn pale and bluish. “I have to tell you something.”
She nodded, eyes wide.
“When I had the seizure, I heard a voice.”
“Whose voice?”
“I’m not sure.” That was the truth.
“What did the voice say?”
It was hard to explain. “It wasn’t words. Just sounds, like frequencies and chanting.”
