it Drew? Did he stop for a second to admire the smooth pedestal of my toes, which bear neither calluses nor bunions because I don ’t walk barefoot or wear high heels? I haven’t jogged since I was fifteen. I feel a tingle of embarrassment at the thought that he might have undressed me.
I weave my way out to the living room, and find Drew and Marly leaning forward on the couch, whispering. Though their bodies are not quite touching, they ’re looking at each other with a tenderness, a familiarity, that suggests they share more than platonic feelings. When Marly spots me she calls out, “You’re awake!” and shifts away from Drew as though intentionally putting more distance between their bodies.
“ Thanks for the lovely nap,” I stretch my arms out in front of me. “I really hope neither of you carried me.”
Drew frowns. “You don’t remember getting into bed?”
“ I don’t remember anything after Ray and his daughter left. It was like being taken under by a wave.”
Drew makes a thoughtful sound, and Marly says, “I knew it would work!”
“ You don’t know that anything happened for certain,” I say. “I made the guy puke, and pissed off his daughter. That’s all we really know.” In truth, though, I know something more happened this time—an echo of that dark, stone-heavy source in his body hangs over me like a pall. Relief that something happened, that perhaps the pain and the visions of all these years have a purpose runs up against something else. Responsibility. Is this what Adam feels after he administers help to ailing patients? I can picture him flopping onto his bed at the end of the day with the burden of all his worries—and I have a sudden absurd wish to be there, rubbing the tension out of his shoulders, offering a drink.
I ease myself into a blue armchair so soft it feels as though it is digesting me.
Marly shakes her head. “I know it worked. Drew can check in on him. Maybe he can offer testimonials for the next one?”
I struggle to sit upright. “What next one? I’m done with this, Marly.”
Marly ’s flawless face crumples with disappointment. “Grace, every one of those people came to see you work. I was staggered by their faith.”
I want Drew to rally for my side, to point out that I collapsed after doing one short healing. If that ’s what it was.
But Drew says, “I wish you could have seen it from our perspective. It was like you were one with the man. I know how that sounds.”
The two of them sit there nodding like religious zealots.
“Grace, do you trust me?” Marly asks.
What runs through my head is: Lie! Lie! Lie! “Of course.” These are the most painful words I’ve said today.
“ Good,” she says. “That’s all I need to know.”
Chapter Eleven
Marly paces back and forth in front of The Mirage with its campy palm trees and volcano grotto. It rises like a strange storybook in a dream behind her, intimidating and powerful in its gaudiness. I stand hidden beneath the brim of a hat so encompassing in its protection—from sun or unwanted glances—that Marly refers to it as my “sombrero.”
A small crowd has gathered nearby, when suddenly the fake “volcano” gives off a great rumble, and disgorges murky red lava into the air. Marly shrieks and stares at me as if she’s expecting me to run screaming.
“ Don’t worry—it’s not real enough to freak me out,” I say.
“ So the anxious look on your face,” Marly says, “Is it because you’re nervous?”
Prior to Vegas, it ’s been a long time since I’ve had anything to be nervous about—and suddenly I’ve got tons of new opportunities. I suppose they call this living. “A couple days ago I sort of hoped I couldn’t repeat what happened, but now…”
She stops pacing. “Look, it’s no big deal if nothing happens; we don’t make any promises. But don’t you have just a little bit more confidence in yourself now?”
I know she ’s referring to the phone call we
I weave my way out to the living room, and find Drew and Marly leaning forward on the couch, whispering. Though their bodies are not quite touching, they ’re looking at each other with a tenderness, a familiarity, that suggests they share more than platonic feelings. When Marly spots me she calls out, “You’re awake!” and shifts away from Drew as though intentionally putting more distance between their bodies.
“ Thanks for the lovely nap,” I stretch my arms out in front of me. “I really hope neither of you carried me.”
Drew frowns. “You don’t remember getting into bed?”
“ I don’t remember anything after Ray and his daughter left. It was like being taken under by a wave.”
Drew makes a thoughtful sound, and Marly says, “I knew it would work!”
“ You don’t know that anything happened for certain,” I say. “I made the guy puke, and pissed off his daughter. That’s all we really know.” In truth, though, I know something more happened this time—an echo of that dark, stone-heavy source in his body hangs over me like a pall. Relief that something happened, that perhaps the pain and the visions of all these years have a purpose runs up against something else. Responsibility. Is this what Adam feels after he administers help to ailing patients? I can picture him flopping onto his bed at the end of the day with the burden of all his worries—and I have a sudden absurd wish to be there, rubbing the tension out of his shoulders, offering a drink.
I ease myself into a blue armchair so soft it feels as though it is digesting me.
Marly shakes her head. “I know it worked. Drew can check in on him. Maybe he can offer testimonials for the next one?”
I struggle to sit upright. “What next one? I’m done with this, Marly.”
Marly ’s flawless face crumples with disappointment. “Grace, every one of those people came to see you work. I was staggered by their faith.”
I want Drew to rally for my side, to point out that I collapsed after doing one short healing. If that ’s what it was.
But Drew says, “I wish you could have seen it from our perspective. It was like you were one with the man. I know how that sounds.”
The two of them sit there nodding like religious zealots.
“Grace, do you trust me?” Marly asks.
What runs through my head is: Lie! Lie! Lie! “Of course.” These are the most painful words I’ve said today.
“ Good,” she says. “That’s all I need to know.”
Chapter Eleven
Marly paces back and forth in front of The Mirage with its campy palm trees and volcano grotto. It rises like a strange storybook in a dream behind her, intimidating and powerful in its gaudiness. I stand hidden beneath the brim of a hat so encompassing in its protection—from sun or unwanted glances—that Marly refers to it as my “sombrero.”
A small crowd has gathered nearby, when suddenly the fake “volcano” gives off a great rumble, and disgorges murky red lava into the air. Marly shrieks and stares at me as if she’s expecting me to run screaming.
“ Don’t worry—it’s not real enough to freak me out,” I say.
“ So the anxious look on your face,” Marly says, “Is it because you’re nervous?”
Prior to Vegas, it ’s been a long time since I’ve had anything to be nervous about—and suddenly I’ve got tons of new opportunities. I suppose they call this living. “A couple days ago I sort of hoped I couldn’t repeat what happened, but now…”
She stops pacing. “Look, it’s no big deal if nothing happens; we don’t make any promises. But don’t you have just a little bit more confidence in yourself now?”
I know she ’s referring to the phone call we
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