Лиза Макманн - Fade

Cabel gives her a quizzical look. “I am totally not getting enough attention here.”

Janie thumbs his cheek. Pulls his face to hers and kisses him, her tongue darting across his teeth playfully until she coaxes him to play along.

A surge of something—love?—makes Janie’s skin tingle. But it scares her, too, when she thinks of her future, always with this dream curse hanging over her. She never thought she’d be with someone. Never imagined someone would sacrifice so much to deal with her strange problems. Wonders when Cabel will get tired of it all and give up on her.

Desperately she pushes that thought aside. Her lips are hot against his neck.

She tugs at his T-shirt and slips her quivering fingers under it, reexploring Cabel’s nubbly skin. Touching the scars on his belly, his chest. She knows that Cabel feels the same way she does, sometimeslike no one would want to be with him because of his issues. Maybe the two of us really could last, Janie thinks. Misfits, united.

Cabel’s fingers trace a slow path from Janie’s shoulder to her hip as they kiss. Then he slips his shirt over his head and tosses it aside.

Presses against her. “That’s a little better,” he whispers in her ear.

“Only a little?”

The winter dusk of late afternoon falls into the room. Janie reaches for her blouse and slowly unbuttons it. Lets it fall open.

Cabel pauses and stares, not sure what to do. He closes his eyes for a moment and swallows hard.

She reaches between her breasts and unhooks her bra.

And then she turns her face slowly toward him. “Cabel?” She looks into his eyes.

“Yes,” he whispers. He can barely get the word out.

“I want you to touch me,” she says, taking his hand and guiding it.

“Okay?”

“Oh god.”

She pulls a newly purchased condom from her pocket.

Sets the package on the skin of her belly.

Reaches for his jeans.

Cabel, momentarily rendered speechless, helpless, and thoughtless except for wanting her, sighs in shudders as he touches her skin, her breasts, her thighs, and then, as the light fades from the window, they are kissing as if their lives depend on their shared breath, and urgently making love for the first time, with their eyes and bodies, like it’s the only chance they’ll ever have.

In the evening, as they lie together in Cabel’s bed, she knows it’s time.

Before she reads the green notebook, before what happens, happens, she needs to say what she feels. Because he is the only one who matters.

She practices in her mind.

Forms the words with her mouth.

Then tries them, softly, out loud.

“I love you, Cabe.”

He’s quiet, and she wonders if he’s sleeping.

But then he buries his face in her neck.

February 1, 2006

Janie spends the school week swapping sexual innuendos with Mr.

Durbin, trading confusing glances with Mr. Wang, and bantering spiteful barbs with Coach Crater.

Cabel tracks down the whereabouts of last semester’s Chem. 2 class.

He’s working madly behind the scenes, not saying much about it.

Controlling his feelings about the creep being near the woman he loves. Knowing if he says what he’s really thinking, the tension grows between them.

“So,” he says carefully, “it’s you and six other students on this trip, plus Durbin. And who’s your female chaperone?”

Janie glances up from her chemistry book. “Mrs. Pancake.”

Cabel scribbles in his notebook.

“Four girls. You have a room together?”

“No, I thought I’d sleep in Durbin’s room,” Janie says.

“Har, har.” Cabel scowls at Janie, and then tosses her chemistry book aside and tackles her. He buries his fingers into her hair and kisses her.

“You’re asking for trouble, Hannagan,” he growls.

“And you would be…?” Janie asks. She giggles.

“Trouble.”

ON HER OWN

February 5, 2006, 5:15 a.m.

Janie, sprawled out on Cabel’s couch, finally finds Miss Stubin on

Janie’s own terms.

She’s on the bench. Miss Stubin is there, next to her. It’s dusk.

Perpetual rain.

“I’m going on an overnight trip with the teacher who we think is the sexual predator. Some of his former students are going too—they may be victims,” Janie says.

“What season is it?” Miss Stubin asks.

Janie looks at her, puzzled. “Winter. It’s February.”

“Wear a bulky coat to disguise the shaking in case you get sucked into a nightmare. Drape it over you. You’re taking a school van?”

“Yes.”

“Grab the backseat. And if you get sucked into a dream that’s unimportant to the case, pull out of it. Don’t waste your strength. You can pull out of them now, can’t you?”

“Most of the time—the regular dreams, anyway. Not always with nightmares.”

“Keep working at that. It’s very important.”

“I want to try pausing the dreams. Panning the scene. How did you do that?”

“It’s all about focus, just as you focus to pull out of dreams, Janie. Just as you focus to help people change their dreams. Stare hard at the subject and talk to them with your mind. Tell them to stop. Focus on panning first—that comes most easily. Then pausing the scene. Who knows, perhaps you’ll be able to zoom and rewind someday—that really comes in handy when solving crimes. And keep studying the meanings of dreams too. You’ve read books on the subject, haven’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Your work will be easier the more you can interpret some of the strange aspects that naturally occur in dreams. This, too, will help you immensely. Study my notes, see how I’ve interpreted dreams over the years.”

Janie nods, then blushes, remembering Miss Stubin can’t see her. “I will. Miss Stubin?”

“Yes, Janie?”

“About the green notebook…”

“Ah, you’ve found it, then.”

“Yes.”

“Go on.”

“Does Captain know about it? About what’s in it?”

“No. Not the notebook.”

“Does she know anything about how dream catching works?”

“Some,” Miss Stubin says guardedly. “We talked a little over the years.

She’s certainly someone you can talk to when you need to.”

“Does anyone else understand this besides you and me?”

Miss Stubin hesitates. “Not that I know of.”

Janie fidgets. “Should I read it? Do you want me to? Is it horrible?”

Miss Stubin is silent for a very long time. “I can’t answer those questions for you. In good conscience, I can neither encourage you to read it nor discourage you from reading it. You must decide without my words swaying you either way.”

Janie sighs and reaches for the old woman’s hand, stroking the cool, paper-thin skin. “That’s what I thought you’d say.”

Miss Stubin pats her gnarled hand on top of Janie’s soft one. She smiles wistfully and slowly disappears into the misty evening.

7:54 a.m.

It’s Sunday morning. And it’s time. It’s been ten days since Janie found the green spiral notebook.

She slips back into bed with Cabel for a few minutes. He’s just dozing now, not dreaming, and she holds him tightly, taking in whatever she can from him before she goes.

“I love you, Cabe,” she whispers.

And goes.

Back to her room two streets away.

8:15 a.m.

With the notebook resting ominously on Janie’s bed, Janie procrastinates.

Does her homework first.

And pours herself a bowl of cereal. Breakfast—one of the five most important meals of the day. Not to be skipped.

10:01 a.m.

She can’t stall any longer.

Janie stares at the green notebook.

Opens it.

Reads the first page again.

Takes a deep breath.