I have that dream again, the one I used to have all the time after Nina first disappeared. In the dream I go into the third bedroom in our apartment and there’s a girl in there, sitting at a desk. I ask her who she is. How did she get in here? What does she want? But the girl doesn’t answer, she just laughs like I’m making a joke. And she thinks this joke is very funny. And I feel so weirdly proud at making this strange girl laugh that I don’t even bother to tell her that my questions were serious.
We stand there for a moment, this girl and I, and then she says, “Oh, Belly,” and I realize the girl is Nina. She has a different haircut than when she vanished; her hair is made of thin strands of real gold and I decide that’s probably why I didn’t recognize her at first. But where has she been the last two years? I ask. She just shakes her head like I am crazy. Why, she’s been here, of course! And I am confused, so confused, but Nina just shrugs and smiles. She asks me if I want to look through her clothes and help her pick out which ones would look best with her new haircut, and I say okay and she opens this door in her bedroom that I hadn’t noticed before, which opens into a giant warehouse, filled up to the ceiling with beautiful things. Right near the door is a giant bunch of gold Mylar balloons on extra long strings. She tells me she’s been selling them to make extra money, which is how she could afford all the new clothes. Normally she charges two hundred and fifty-seven dollars for each balloon. But I can have as many as I want, all for free, because I’m her sister. She starts walking around the enormous closet, gathering up the balloons for me. Once she has about six, the balloons start to lift her up off the floor and each time she adds to her collection she rises a little higher. She doesn’t seem to notice, or if she does, she doesn’t care. I look up at the ceiling and now it’s nothing but sky. And she is still gathering those balloons, going up and up and up. And I realize something is going very, very wrong here. I start yelling, “Nina, stop!” and “Nina, let go!” but she isn’t listening. “Nina, stop! Nina, stop!” I yell louder and louder. And this is usually how the dream ends, with me screaming and her rising higher and higher and higher until I can’t see her anymore. Only this time, it’s different. This time, right when she is about to pass between where the room ends and where the sky begins, she looks down and then, at the very last second, she lets go and starts to fall. Faster and faster, she hurtles toward the ground. And I gasp because I do not know if I will be able to catch her.
I wake up just after one-thirty in the afternoon, staring at Sean’s dimly lit naked back. He’s standing by the sink in the corner, wet from a shower, a thin motel towel wrapped around his waist. He looks so beautiful I can barely stand it. I can see his reflection in the mirror—his smooth chest, the faint line of hair leading down his stomach. I know I should look away, but I can’t. He raises a smaller towel up to his head and starts rubbing his hair, the muscles in his shoulders and back flex as he moves the towel back and forth. And in the mirror I can see his biceps flexing and releasing, flexing and releasing. There’s something on the inside of his upper arm, a smattering of white jagged lines. Scars. From an accident maybe? I wonder. I want to reach out and touch them.
When he starts to take his towel off, I finally force myself to squeeze my eyes shut, and behind my eyelids I picture what I’m not seeing. I breathe, in and out, trying to lie perfectly still.
“Ellie, wake uuuuuuupp.”
“Mmmpph?” I make a noise which I hope makes it clear that I was not awake until this very second and certainly wasn’t watching him get dressed only moments ago. I open my eyes. Sean is standing there in front of me, barefoot, fully clothed, his hair flopping over his face, his cheeks flushed from the steam of the shower, the damp towel around his neck. He’s staring at my face and when our eyes meet, he smiles and I feel my heart in my chest.
“You sleep cute.” Sean says. And then he flips on the light. I sit up in bed, swing my feet out onto the hard, scratchy carpet.
The moment my feet hit the floor I hear my phone vibrating on the nightstand. Without even thinking, I pick it up.
“Oh my God, what is going on? I’ve called you like a hundred times in a row!” It’s Amanda.
“Huh?” I’m too groggy from sleep to deal with this right now.
“That guy? Sean? Are you still with him?”
“Hi, Amanda,” I say.
“I’ve been calling you,” she says. “Why didn’t you call me back?”
Sean sits down at the end of the bed.
“I was busy,” I say. And I glance at Sean, who is leaning over putting on his socks.
“Ellie. Helen was over here this morning picking my mom up for Pilates and she called her nephew Eddie from our house, you know, the one who goes to Beacon, and Eddie said one of his friends used to room with Sean and that Sean’s a total freak.”
I glance at Sean. He is leaning over and picking up his shoe.