A Lily in the Light(18)

“Nick!” Cerise’s voice was so harsh Andre jumped up from his chair. Then he stood there, wavering.

“No, really. How do we know? She’s not a cop. There’s no pictures or evidence or anything that’s actually real. She just makes stuff up and goes home with a fat check, and who cares? It’s not her problem, is it?” Nick matched Andre’s height. “Dad, c’mon. You don’t believe this shit, do you?”

Andre’s hand tightened on the back of the chair. His wedding band made a clicking noise on the wood. He couldn’t believe it, Esme thought, torn between wanting to know what Annette saw and wanting her to leave. Nick glared at Andre, shifting from foot to foot silently until he looked away.

Nick snorted. “Figures.” Some kind of boy code had been broken, but Esme didn’t really understand.

Annette jumped in. “I’m not taking money for this.”

Nick’s forehead furrowed deeper; he was now more suspicious than he had been. His fists were balled up in his pockets, but his knee bounced in his jeans, an old habit. He’d done that when he was younger, bouncing before taking his place at bat, waiting for the pitcher to make a move, waiting for their father to find out he’d stolen forty dollars from the food money in the drawer or been caught with beer on the roof. Lily’s drawing was still on the wall without Nick. Was Detective Ferrera right?

“I don’t take money from anyone. I do this because I see things other people can’t, things I shouldn’t or couldn’t know any other way. When Teresa told me about your sister, I wanted to help.”

Annette paused, sifting through words. “How does it work?” She laughed. “I’m not sure. I’ve been waiting my whole life for someone to explain it, but here’s what I know. When I see pictures of people, I see things that happened to them. I might think a certain thought or feel a sensation and know it isn’t mine. It happens when I’m awake or asleep, like stepping out of myself and into someone else for a little while.”

Annette stared into the corner of the living room, eyes glazed as if she saw something other than where the walls met and the lamp stood with its cord wrapped around its base. Just be the regular living room, Esme prayed, watching the same corner carefully. Annette turned her attention back to Nick.

“In one of the visions I had about Lily, I was running in a playground, and someone was chasing me. I was laughing and having so much fun I didn’t notice the wall ahead until I ran right into it. I didn’t understand how I got from running to staring at the sky. My head felt funny, and the next thing I heard was . . .”

Good job, dummy, Esme remembered, shocked. That was what Nick had said, and she’d slapped him for being so mean.

“You let her wear your Mets hat, the one with your initials on the brim.”

Nick always wrote his initials under the brim with a Sharpie. It had started when he was a kid and wanted to pitch for the Mets when he grew up. He threw balled-up socks against targets Andre set up for him in the house, but Nick hadn’t done that in years. She had no idea what he wanted to be instead. She’d ask him later, she decided. Maybe that little boy was still in there.

“And you carried her home on your back. That’s what she liked most.”

She’d forgotten about that day in the park, but she wished now, deeply, that she hadn’t. Memories drifting into forgottenness seemed unspeakably sad. The photo album with missing pictures had been put away. A lump throbbed in her throat as Nick wiped his face with his sleeve. It was the first time she’d seen him cry in a long time, and she wanted to tie him back together like undone shoelaces. Maybe that was what Annette could do.

“She wore that hat on her first day of school too,” Annette said softly. Nick nodded, not meeting her eye, and stuffed his hands back in his pockets, where they sat in two balled lumps. “Because you said it was good luck.”

There was a pause. A lock clicked in the hallway. Everyone swam in private thoughts, treading water as one thought rolled in after the next. Annette’s voice guided them back to the living room.

“Why don’t you join us?” Annette gestured toward an empty seat. “I don’t always understand what I see, but you might because you know your sister in a way I never will, and hey, maybe I am making it up. Sometimes it feels that way for me, too, but you can be the judge of that.” Annette smiled softly as Nick took a seat. It seemed like Annette understood how hard the past day had been more than anyone else. Esme tried not to think about anything. She would just listen.

Annette reached for Turtley and held him between her hands, forming a new shell.

“I think we’re ready,” Annette said as she closed her eyes. Her head tipped slightly toward her right shoulder. Andre lowered the lights. Annette sighed deeply. If Annette could step out of her old body and into Lily’s young, elastic one, it must be a relief. The peaceful look on Annette’s face must be Lily shining through.

It was quiet for a long time. The flickering candles in the darkness reminded Esme of a birthday cake, only no one was singing, and no one moved. They sat in half shadows and waited. Was it working?

Annette’s voice was thick and dreamlike, sleep talk forgotten by morning.

“I see a thousand rainbows flickering over the walls and floor. If I try to catch them, they’re on my foot instead or the back of my hands. My name is strange. Here, I’m called Elizabeth.”