Lena moved next to me and put her hand on mine, until both of us were touching the tiny bandaged hand that belonged to Aunt Prue. “Look at her eyes.”
I did.
She looked different. Not happy, not sad. Her eyes were milky, unfocused. She looked gone, like the nurse said.
“Aunt Prue isn’t like the others. I bet she’s far away exploring, like she always wanted to. Maybe she’s finishing her map of the Tunnels right now.” Lena kissed me on the cheek and stood up. “I’m going to see if there’s somewhere to get a drink. Do you want something? Maybe they have chocolate milk.”
I knew what she was really doing. Giving me time alone with my aunt. But I didn’t tell her that, or that I couldn’t stand the taste of chocolate milk anymore. “I’m okay.”
“Let me know if you need me.” She pulled the door closed behind her.
Once Lena left, I didn’t know what to do. I stared at Aunt Prue lying in the hospital bed with tubes threaded in and out of her skin. I lifted her hand gently in mine, careful not to disturb her IV. I didn’t want to hurt her. I was pretty sure she could still feel pain. I mean, she wasn’t dead—that’s what I kept reminding myself.
I remembered hearing somewhere that you’re supposed to talk to people in comas because they can hear you. I tried to think of something to tell her. But the same words kept playing over and over in my mind.
I’m sorry. It’s my fault.
Because it was true. And the weight of it—the guilt—was so heavy I could feel it bearing down on me all the time.
I hoped Lena was right. I hoped Aunt Prue was somewhere making maps or stirring up trouble. I wondered if she was with my mom. Could they find each other, wherever they were?
I was still thinking about it when I closed my eyes for a second….
I could feel Aunt Prue’s bandaged hand in mine. Only when I looked down at the bed, Aunt Prue was gone. I blinked, and the bed was gone, then the room. And I was nowhere, looking at nothing, hearing nothing.
Footsteps.
“Ethan Wate, that you?”
“Aunt Prue?”
She came shuffling out of the absolute nothingness. She was there and not there, flickering in and out of sight in her best housedress, the one with the loud flowers and the pearly-looking snaps. Her slippers were crocheted in the same rainbow of browns as Aunt Grace’s favorite afghan.
“Back so soon?” She waved the handkerchief in her curled hand. “Told you last night, I got things ta do while I’m out an’ about like this. Can’t keep runnin’ ta me every time you need the answer ta some durned question I don’t know.”
“What? I didn’t visit you last night, Aunt Prue.”
She frowned. “You tryin’ ta play tricks on a old woman?”
“What did you tell me?” I asked.
“What did you ask?” She scratched her head, and I realized with a rising panic that she was beginning to fade away.
“Are you coming back, Aunt Prue?”
“Can’t say just yet.”
“Can you come with me now?”
She shook her head. “Don’t you know? That’s up ta the Wheel a Fate.”
“What?”
“Sooner or later, it crushes us all. That’s what I told you, remember? When you asked ’bout comin’ over here. Why’re you askin’ so many questions today? I’m bone tired, an’ I need ta get me some rest.”
She was almost gone now.
“Leave me be, Ethan. Don’t ya be lookin’ ta come downside. The Wheel ain’t done with you.”