I fling out an arm, and one of the phantom people flings their arm out at the same time. I jump backwards. At that exact moment, so does she.
Young Guy slides slowly out of bed and stands beside me. He looks as freaked out as I feel. This is … too strange. I turn to face the black woman and she matches my stance. I wave. She waves. Slowly, the pieces click together. I edge forward, reach out to touch the face of the black person in front of me. It’s smooth, flat. And then, ching. The penny drops.
“The people,” I say, “the black people … they’re us. They’re our shadows.”
For a moment, all I can do is stand there. Holy moly. I actually thought my shadow was some kind of crazy mutant alien. Is that how far gone I am? Young Guy’s hand curls around mine, and I realize it is shaking. And not just that—he’s making a noise, too. In the dark, it’s hard to tell what he’s doing, but finally, I realize. He’s laughing.
Chuckles start to bubble up in me too, slowly at first, and then a full-on manic giggling explosion. Beside me, Young Guy laughs. And so do our shadows.
*
I jolt awake. Something isn’t right. Young Guy’s cheek is resting on my torso just below my chin and … Skinny is towering over us.
“I just found them like this,” she is saying to someone. Her face is bent and twisted and her voice is high-pitched. “I don’t know where Rosie is. Carole, would you just find Rosie?”
“Bert’s twisted his ankle,” someone else says. “She’s bandaging it.”
Skinny pulls back the thin-blanket that’s covering us and peers under. “They’re partially clothed, at least. Thank God! Oh, Anna’s awake.”
I lie very still as the guy with the mustache comes into view. His eyes roll over my body slowly. “Are you all right, Anna?” he asks.
I nod, shrinking farther under the thin-blanket, wishing they would get out of my room.
“Did you know Luke was here with you?” he asks, his eyes still wandering.
I glance at the top of Young Guy’s head and then back at the man. “You know I have dementia, right? I’m not blind.”
Mustache Man’s eyes narrow. He wipes at his forehead with his arm.
There’s something majorly unsettling about lying flat while people hover over you, but Young Guy is heavy on my upper torso, so I’m stuck.
“We’ll have to call her brother,” Skinny says. “And Luke’s sister. Do you want me to do it?”
“I’ll do it,” Mustache Man says, but he keeps looking at me. “Anna, do you need help getting dressed?”
I shake my head so hard, I get dizzy.
“Fine. Trish will wait outside until you’re dressed and then bring you to my office, okay?”
I don’t really want to get dressed or go to Mustache Man’s office, but I don’t see what choice I have, so I nod.
“Good,” he says, exhaling. “Then we can sort this whole thing out.”
Mustache Man and Skinny finally leave and I shimmy Young Guy’s head off my body and rise into a sitting position. That’s when it dawns on me, what Skinny and Mustache Man want to sort out. It’s us. Me and Young Guy.
29
Eve
As I push Anna’s door open, my whole body is trembling. Questions—and doubts—loop in my head so fast, I feel giddy.… Will she be awake? Will she be startled? Will she remember our conversation? The last thing I want is to terrify her. But before I can rethink anything, Anna sits up in bed.
“Hey, Anna,” I whisper, taking a couple of cautious steps toward her. Like any person woken at night, she blinks, rubs her eyes. Assesses her surroundings. Looks at me warily. “I’m Eve,” I say. “Would you … um … like to see Luke?” I smile, hoping his name will stir something in her. It doesn’t.
She frowns. “Who?”
My confidence, if I ever had any, deserts me. “Um, well … he has dark hair, brown eyes…”
I trail off, give her a minute. But she just continues to look blank.
“You know what?” I say. “Why don’t you just go back to sl—”
“Rosie!” Bert’s voice rings into the silence suddenly. I stifle a gasp. “I need to use the gents’. Come and give an old man a push out of bed.”
My gaze bounces to the door, which is open. I dart for it, pushing it shut just as Rosie comes up the corridor to help Bert. I say a silent prayer that Anna doesn’t choose this moment to freak out. It works; she remains quiet.
A few moments later, when I hear Rosie make her way back to the nurses’ room, I notice Anna watching me. “Who is Luke?” she asks.
I creep to her side uncertainly. “Luke is the young guy,” I whisper. “He has dark hair, brown eyes—”
“Is he cute?”
I chuckle. “He is cute.”
“Okay. Then let’s go.”
I wheel her to the door. There’s no sound from the residents but I can hear Clem’s TV program in the parlor and the low drone of infomercials from the nurses’ room. This is our chance.