Part 27 (1/2)

”A little,” I said.

He gave me a sympathetic look and took another bite.

I didn't eat anything. Jack ate everything on his plate.

I told him I was tired and we went to bed. The sheets were cold and we huddled together under the blankets. Jack fell asleep quickly, as he always had, his arm draped over me.

I thought I wouldn't sleep, but I must have. I woke up to the sound of the toilet flus.h.i.+ng and Jack crawling back into bed. His skin was clammy and he was trembling.

”I think I'm sick.” His voice was weak.

”What's wrong?”

”Everything,” he said and fell back into a fitful sleep.

It didn't last. Within fifteen minutes he was awake again, groaning and panting. I laid my hand on his forehead. The pulse in his temple fluttered under my fingers. I turned on the bedside lamp and I could see that his color wasn't good.

I touched his sweaty forehead. ”Is there anything I can do?”

”Stay up with me,” he said.

I rose and went to the kitchen. There was some ginger ale in the refrigerator; I poured some into a gla.s.s and brought it back to him. He was curled up in a tight ball on the bed with his eyes squeezed shut. When he heard me come near he opened them and they were dark and haunted.

”Maybe you've been taking too many pills,” I said.

He shook his head. ”The sauce must have been bad. It's all I can think of.”

I lay next to him in bed and stroked his hair while he tried to sleep. His body was warm and comforting against mine. Once he opened his eyes and said, ”Jesus, I can hardly see.”

”It'll be over by morning,” I said. ”Food poisoning doesn't last.”

He smiled weakly. ”Think I'll live?”

I gave him a critical once-over. ”Doubtful.” He laughed painfully.

As time pa.s.sed, he started to complain of a sharp pain in his gut. Around three o'clock, he asked me to read to him. I found the copy of Alice in Wonderland that the doctor had given to me, and I read to him until four, when he said that he needed to use the bathroom. When he finally made it to his feet, he couldn't walk without help.

By the time he went back to bed, he was panting and exhausted. I picked the book up to read to him again and he put his hand on my wrist. ”Don't, Josie,” he said. ”My head is splitting.”

He put his head in my lap and closed his eyes.

He slept restlessly until the sun came up and the light in Lily's bedroom grew brighter. He didn't seem to know where he was. He asked me what time Raeburn was going to be home and I said, ”No, Jack, we're in New York. We're at Lily's.”

He nodded. ”Of course we are. Is she here?”

”No, Jack. Lily's dead.”

He gazed up at me for a moment with his beautiful green eyes and their long, long lashes. ”Josie?”

”Yes, Jack?”

”Just checking.”

”Who did you think I was?”

”Mary,” he said simply.

Then he fell asleep again.

I took his steel watch from the nightstand and put it on, so I know that at exactly ten minutes past nine my brother's breathing began to come in short pants. I'd been stroking his hair and suddenly my hand was covered in his sweat.

His eyes opened. My eyes were wet, but I felt a great calm as I stroked his forehead and murmured soothing things. I told him everything would be okay. I told him he would feel better soon. I told him that we'd find a new, better life to live somewhere else. I told him that I loved him. Suddenly he opened his eyes wide and seemed to see me, really see me, and he opened his mouth as if he were going to speak. He took a breath-a deep, rattling gasp-and let it go. He did not take another one.

For a long time I sat frozen on the edge of the bed and stared at him, trying to memorize his face, his eyes, the smell of him. He was my brother. He was the pivot around which my life had revolved. He was the only person who had ever loved me.

When I moved, it was as if I were moving through thick water. The silence was heavy in my ears. I took his old leather jacket and the high black boots that Lily had bought for me. I took his wallet and the copy of Alice in Wonderland. I left Lily's credit cards. I left her jewelry.

The doorman was dozing when I left. I caught a cab at the corner and took it to the bus station. I bought a ticket. Every step was uncertainty and agony, but soon enough I was out of the city and onto the highway, and it was easier.

I left New York.