Michael Grant - Eve and Adam

Still, the realization is disheartening somehow. All of this is new to me. Including the acknowledgment that it’s all new to me.

“Aislin,” Eve says softly. “Oh, Aislin.”

The nurse appears in the doorway. “Dr. Anderson’s on his way,” she says. “And you’re in no condition to be having visitors in the middle of the night.”

“Please,” Eve says, stroking Aislin’s hair, “leave us.”

The nurse wrings her hands.

“Two minutes,” Eve snaps, and the nurse retreats.

There’s some of her mother in Eve, I realize with a shock. I’ve never seen it in her before, but when she wants to, Eve can summon up that same voice of command and control.

“So?” Eve asks Aislin.

Aislin won’t meet her eyes.

Eve looks at me. I start answering before I realize I’m doing it.

“Your mother woke me, told me to meet her at the elevator. Aislin came up. I’m supposed to find her a place to stay.”

Eve hears what I didn’t say. “My mother told you to bring her here, to me?”

“No. Actually she told me absolutely not to do that.”

Eve’s forbidding expression softens.

“I don’t always do exactly what I’m told,” I say.

“Well, thanks,” she says.

I comb my fingers through my hair. It’s tangled up, even by my standards, which are pretty low. “I should get going.”

“Stay,” Eve says firmly, going all Terra on me again. She winces, looks down, smiles a little. “I mean, please stay, if you don’t mind.”

I grab a chair. “Sure. No problem.” I was hoping she’d say that.

“Tell me, Aislin,” Eve says gently.

“They came to Maddox’s apartment.” Aislin takes a shuddery breath. “I was there. They started banging. Crazy. Threatening him. They broke a window and someone must have called the cops. Which was lucky because they got in. The gangbangers, not the cops, I mean. I tried to… so one of them…” She mimes a punch. She started strong, but now the narrative is breaking up. She’s breathing hard, as if the whole thing’s happening all over again.

“The guy, so he hit me, and I fell down. Kicked me in… Maddox, they had him, the other guys, and they were tying him down. He was yelling for help. I tried. My phone. Then, wham again. A gun and they were pointing it. Maddox. Then the sirens and I ran, I got out of the door and down the stairs and I was going to get the cops to come and help. Confused, because of being hit and all.”

Eve looks at me.

There’s a knock on Eve’s door. It’s Dr. Anderson with the nurse, who’s carrying a tray of bandages and sutures.

“Jeez,” the doctor says. He is wearing a pair of red silk pajamas. His feet are bare.

Dr. Anderson moves Aislin to a spot where the light is better, over by the desk. He peers sideways at her nose. The cut looks bad. The nurse tsk-tsks under her breath.

The doctor pulls on rubber gloves, prodding the wound. “Yep. It’ll definitely need stitches, young lady. But first let’s get a radiograph, make sure nothing’s broken.”

Aislin doesn’t complain. She’s kind of gone somewhere else in her head.

The nurse and doctor help her out the door. “It’ll only take a minute,” the nurse says.

“You stay put,” Dr. Anderson admonishes Eve. “You’ve had enough fun for one day.”

“It wasn’t all fun,” I offer.

Eve presses her lips together, suppressing a smile.

“Should I go?” I ask Eve when they’ve left. “I mean, there’s nothing more I can do, I guess.”

Eve adjusts her sheets. “It’d be okay if you stick around,” she says casually. I can’t tell if she wants me around or not. “I might need backup while I’m reading Aislin the riot act.”

“Yeah, okay,” I say, matching her tone. “I’m totally wide awake, anyway.”

We sit in silence. The mirror has get-well cards taped to it. There are flowers everywhere. Girl things are scattered around the room: a makeup kit, a bottle of perfume, something unidentifiable that’s beige and silky.

Aislin returns with the nurse and doctor. “Nothing broken,” he reports. “Think we can put Humpty Dumpty together again.” He yawns widely. “Nurse, you can finish up. The Ambien’s kicking in again.”

Aislin settles in a leather chair as the nurse prepares her equipment.

“Listen, sweetie,” Eve begins in a lecturing voice. She hears it herself and I can see it makes her uncomfortable. But she has to go on. I want her to go on. Someone has got to tell Aislin what’s what.

“This has to stop, Aislin. You know it. I know it. The whole world knows it. You’re going to end up hurt.”

“It’ll be okay,” Aislin says. But there’s no force to her words. She doesn’t believe what she’s saying.

“I know you care about Maddox,” Eve says. “But this can’t go on.”

“I’m going to numb you up,” the nurse says.

Aislin is crying. I don’t think it’s from pain.

Before long the nurse leaves. Aislin’s nose looks a little like Eve’s leg. It’s a mess of white bandages.

Aislin gets up to examine herself in the mirror. “Ugh, how long do I have to look like this?”

“Look how fast my face healed up,” Eve offers.

“It’s going to take Aislin a lot longer than it took you,” I say. It’s out of my mouth. Too late to call it back now. For a second I think no one will say anything.

“Why should it take her longer?” Eve asks. It’s like I’ve dissed Aislin.

I don’t answer. I hang my head, elbows on my knees.

“Solo?” Eve presses. “Why aren’t you answering me?”

I look up through my eyebrows. I look pointedly at the bathroom. “In there.” I mouth the words soundlessly.

To my relief, both of them catch on immediately.

“Can you grab my wheelchair?” Eve asks me.

“Try standing,” I suggest.

She gives me a skeptical frown. “Are you kidding? No way.”

“Okay, then. I’ll play crutch,” I say, shrugging. Like it’s a hardship.

I slip my arm around Eve and help her hobble into the bathroom. Aislin follows, moving unsteadily.

With the door closed, it’s cramped but not too bad: The suite is roomy and so is the bathroom. I rummage in the medicine cabinet, then in the drawers. I pull out a pair of scissors.

“What are you doing?” Eve asks.

I kneel in front of her. “Which is easier? Hike up or drop trou?”

She sees what I’m getting at. With a rather baleful expression on her face, Eve slides the pajama bottoms down. They puddle around her ankles.

“That’s what you wear for panties?” Aislin protests.

“They’re comfortable.”

I have no comment. I am content to swallow hard.

The thick bandages extend from her ankle to her upper thigh. Her upper, upper thigh. Very carefully, hands trembling, I pull the edge of the bandage away from her thigh and insert the scissors, point down.

Aislin runs her index finger along her bandaged nose. “You know, now that I think about it, it’s weird, the way they didn’t give you a cast for that leg.”

“Actually, it’s not so weird,” I say.

“What are you doing?” Eve asks. But not with any serious intent. Not like she’s actually going to stop me. There’s a quaver in her voice.

I cut.

Down the inside of her thigh.

I reach the place where the leg was severed. I roll the bandage down to expose it.

The three of us stare.

The bathroom light is unforgiving.

Where her leg had been crudely ripped apart—skin shredded, bone snapped, muscle meat torn like a turkey drumstick—there is smooth, unblemished white skin.

“There isn’t even a scar,” Aislin murmurs.