The Fading Read online

  And there was the slightly insane fact that she had not questioned his identity or his condition since their conversation in the pantry. She was either chalking the entire situation up to whatever drug she had ingested or actually believed – like a three-year-old believes in Santa Claus – in angels. Angels who talked, walked, could manifest articles of warm clothing, and spoke like a random twenty-year-old guy.

  Noel was too cold to be amazed at any of this. Having given her his parka and walked here in a flannel shirt and jeans, his ears felt made of glass and his teeth were literally clicking against each other, at least when he wasn’t grinding his jaw with frustration that this endless night (now morning) was still happening.

  Julie searched his coat for her keys until he reminded her it was probably in the denim coat underneath, but she didn’t find it there either. Fortunately the knob was unlocked.

  ‘Ssshhh,’ Julie warned. ‘Don’t wake Marna.’

  ‘Who’s Marna?’

  ‘My roommate. She’s a total psycho but she’s really nice.’

  ‘Good to know.’

  Julie tiptoed into the apartment, towing him by the hand. Noel followed her through the living room, past Marna’s closed bedroom door, to the back of the apartment where a kitchen and bathroom sat adjacent to her bedroom. She released him and went to the fridge. She found a half-peeled roll of Nestlé Tollhouse Cookie Dough, scraped the stale end off with a knife, cut a hunk like she was paring a sausage and with the edge of the blade fed a puck of the dough into her small mouth, devouring it with the mechanical thrift of a rabbit working through a carrot. She cut another wedge and did it again. The third she offered to him without turning around.

  ‘No thanks,’ he said.

  She repaired the cookie dough to the shelf and came back with a carton of milk. Sniffed the top, then swigged heartily, wiping a bead of milk from her chin.

  ‘Okay,’ she said, ‘Let’s go!’

  She caught a wad of his shirt and dragged him into her bedroom, shutting the door behind him. She had a bed with a brass spindle frame, the thick mattress dressed with a pink fitted flannel sheet and only one cover – a thick goose-down duvet wrapped in more pilled pink flannel. Julie kicked off her shoes, peeled out of the jackets and launched herself in. She held the duvet up and looked to wherever he might be.

  ‘Hurry, before all the cold gets in!’

  Noel bumbled forward and slipped in beside her as the clam closed around them. She shivered and wiggled up against him, side by side. He didn’t know what to say, and she didn’t say anything for so long, he thought she was falling asleep. The heavy down had settled over their heads and the room was dark enough that almost no light reached through the duvet. The pocket around them warmed with their breath and slowly returning cold-body heat.

  ‘He’s still here,’ Julie whispered, stifling laughter.

  ‘Who?’

  ‘You.’ She elbowed him in the ribs. ‘Is this, like, happening?’

  Noel sighed. ‘Julie.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘How messed up are you?’

  ‘Pretty messed up.’ More laughter.

  ‘But you know who I am, right?’

  ‘Of course.’

  After a moment he said, ‘Who am I?’

  ‘Noel. My mom said you were looking for me, like, a month ago.’

  He understood this to be hyperbole. ‘But you can’t see me, right? You know what my deal is now?’

  ‘A change comes over me,’ she said, impersonating him at age fourteen.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘It’s real,’ she said. ‘You tried to tell me before, but I didn’t believe you.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I thought I was losing my mind.’

  ‘Tonight?’

  ‘Back then. Tonight I was just tripping.’

  ‘Are you still?’

  ‘I’m not screaming my head off, so yeah, I’d say so.’

  ‘What did you take?’

  ‘Half a hit of ’cid. And some X. Just two. Wait, no, three.’

  ‘Julie …’

  ‘But I’m not, like, seeing things now. I’m coming out of it.’

  ‘Are you okay?’

  ‘I’m trying not to think too much about that. Are you?’

  ‘I’m glad I found you.’

  ‘Do you think when it wears off I’ll be able to see you again?’

  She pulled his shirt, rolling him on his side so that his arm draped across her stomach, the underside of his elbow soft against her hip.

  He said, ‘If you can, it won’t be because of the drugs.’

  ‘How long have you been this way? This time around.’

  ‘Two, almost three days.’

  She digested this. ‘That is so messed up. But I knew it was true. When we were younger. Or, I did and I didn’t. I couldn’t believe it, but nothing else made sense. And then my mom …’

  ‘I’m sorry, Julie. I always will be.’

  ‘I know. It was an accident.’

  ‘I shouldn’t have been there. I shouldn’t be here.’

  She ignored that. ‘My point is, I remembered the things you told me, and it all fit. And then tonight it was like the past replayed, only I was okay with it, I could feel you there and my mind jumped back, remembering the sensation, only this time I wasn’t scared. I thought maybe I was having a flashback or something, so I was like, okay, roll with this. And then you kissed me, and I knew it wasn’t the drugs.’ She paused, squirming next to him. ‘Part of me still believes when I wake up, you won’t be here. You’ll be gone, because this can’t be real, right? I mean, it just can-not be real.’

  Noel shifted to keep his left arm away from her so that she wouldn’t feel the bandages. ‘Do you want me to stay? I don’t have to, if it’s too crazy for you. I just wanted to make sure you got home safe.’

  ‘If you leave now I’ll be a wreck, wondering what the hell that was all about.’

  ‘Yeah. Both of us normal. That would be nice.’

  Julie didn’t respond for a long time. Noel grew warm, then hot, hardly able to breathe under the covers.

  ‘Julie?’

  But she was sleeping. A while later she rolled on her side, leaving them spooned. Noel pulled the cover down so that he could breathe. He lay awake long enough to hear Marna get up, make coffee, shower and leave for work or school or whatever Marna did with her days. Then he fell asleep, too.

  ‘Oh, my God.’

  Noel was on his back, too tired to stir.

  ‘Noel? Noel.’

  The bed dipped with her movement, then the covers were thrown back and a cool draft roused him a little more. The room was dark again. They’d slept all day?

  ‘Say something,’ she said. ‘Are you still here?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And you’re still …? This isn’t a joke?’

  ‘It’s not a joke.’ He turned to look at her.

  Her face was on a pillow beside his. Her eyes were huge, searching.

  ‘Can you see me?’ he said, daring to hope.

  ‘No, but those are your legs, right?’

  Their legs were tangled together.

  ‘Yes.’

  She reared back. ‘Did we do anything?’

  ‘Slept.’

  ‘That’s all?’

  ‘That’s all.’

  ‘Promise?’

  ‘I might be a freak but I’m not a total creep.’

  ‘This is insane,’ she said.

  ‘Sorry. Do you want me to leave?’

  ‘Like, what am I supposed to do?’

  ‘Who says you have to do anything?’

  Julie laughed with incredulity. ‘How do you live like this?’

  ‘Most of the time I don’t.’

  ‘Jesus. I thought I had problems. Sorry.’

  ‘It’s okay.’

  ‘I can’t think about this right now. I’m starving,’ she said. ‘Are you hungry? I mean, can you eat like this?’

  ‘I can do everythin
g like this, so long as it doesn’t attract a lot of attention. Do you have anything here?’

  ‘I can order a pizza,’ she said. ‘Hey, how did you find me?’

  ‘The parents were worried about you. Should they be?’

  Julie scoffed. ‘Does he know about you?’

  ‘He thinks it’s all in my head.’

  ‘Typical,’ she said. ‘If that’s the case, it’s all in my head too now.’

  Noel laughed.

  ‘Tell me about it,’ Julie said. ‘Will you?’

  ‘What do you want to know?’

  ‘Everything.’

  She ordered a pizza and they sat in bed, eating Domino’s with extra cheese and pepperoni (she couldn’t watch; the sight of a slice of pizza dissolving into thin air was too strange for her), and he told her. Everything he could remember, from his earliest memories of the cloak’s visitations, through all of the episodes and the things he had done in them, good and bad and meaningless and terrifying.

  He told her of his mother’s break with reality and shunning of him, of his fruitless search for an explanation during his late teens, of his own collapse into depression, but did not mention his stitches or the reason for them. Several times she made him stop while she went to get water or use the bathroom, then asked him to resume. Noel felt rescued after being stranded on an island for the past ten years. Julie listened, sometimes turning on the light to stare at him, trying to get used to the invisible dome of bedding, but it was like watching yourselves having sex, too much too soon, and she turned the light off again.

  The darkness was better, allowed her to forget for a while what he was. Halfway through, she cuddled beside him, crawling around him, marveling over what she could hear and feel but not see. It was distracting having her so close and he tried to kiss her. She let him, and it seemed for a few minutes that it would lead to everything else, but this frightened her too and she stopped him, asking him to tell her more.

  She opened up about herself in ways she never had before, making him laugh over the strangest things, and he was surprised the years had changed her, leaving her scattered yet somehow more alive, messy yet fearless, just as childlike and more beautiful than ever. At one point he broke down crying, with relief that someone was here and believed him, and because there was no one else he would rather this long lost believer be. The night hours passed, and, though his bubble refused to let him go, Noel was content. They fell asleep holding hands, waking only an hour or two later to talk some more. If he was a wonder and mystery to her, she was a miracle to him. They talked until sunrise.

  It was the usual way to fall in love.

  21

  After Marna showered and left for work on the second morning, Julie launched herself from the bed. She had been restless, tossing and turning in the early hours, in some kind of withdrawal, he assumed. She went to the bathroom, peed, ran the faucet for a minute or two and came back wiping her face with a small towel. Noel had not come back to the spectrum and, upon waking, he was again surprised by how quickly Julie was adapting to his condition. She brushed her teeth as she cracked a window to let some air into the room, rinsed and came back applying lotion to her hands. She rubbed the lotion in faster and faster and then stopped abruptly. Her hands were shaking as she flexed her fingers open and closed.

  ‘Oh, shit,’ she said. ‘Shit, shit!’

  Noel sat up in the bed. ‘What’s wrong?’

  ‘I just remembered I left my car downtown.’

  ‘What, you think it got towed?’

  She started talking too quickly. ‘No, it’s in the garage on Walnut, I’ll have to pay like twenty bucks, but it should be fine, but I left my pills in there. We started out having margaritas at the Rio and I was too fucked up to drive. In my bag in the back. I left them in there but I can’t find my keys!’

  Her pills. The shaking hands. Her drop in mood. Noel felt something collapse in him. Not hope, exactly, but something like it. She’s not just a recreational user.

  But then again, what am I?

  ‘Not drugs, drugs,’ she said, as if reading his silence. ‘My prescription. They’re for my poles.’

  ‘Your poles?’

  ‘I’m kind of manic. It’s not a big deal. But I start to freak out if I go more than one day. And I forgot to take yesterday’s.’

  ‘So, we go get them, right? It’s okay.’

  Julie’s lip trembled. ‘It’s not okay! I’m starting to freak out. This situation isn’t helping. I can’t … I need those pills.’

  ‘That’s understandable. I know this is a lot.’ He was thinking: margaritas, acid, ecstasy, a visit by your invisible almost-stepbrother who is sort of becoming your boyfriend. How are you not screaming bloody murder every time I open my mouth?

  ‘Gee, thanks,’ she said, stomping back to the bathroom. ‘Glad you approve.’

  ‘Julie, that’s not what I meant.’

  She slammed the door. Showered faster than a Navy man at sea, came back, said, ‘Don’t look at me.’

  ‘I’m not.’ He pulled the blanket up over his head.

  She mumbled, cursing, slamming her dresser around. ‘Goddamn it!’

  She gave up, sitting on the bed. She was in a big gray sweatshirt and maroon sweatpants, with a knit ski hat crooked on her head, its bright blue pom-pom dangling to the side.

  ‘Hey.’ He sat up and pressed a hand to her back, but she flinched. He removed his hand. ‘One thing at a time. What can I do, right now, in this minute?’

  ‘I need my medicine!’ She was crying. And not just a little, but was suddenly a wreck. She cried deeply, through heaving breaths. He guessed she needed to, pills or no pills. Probably some of it was coming down off her high, but a lot of it was the stress of him back in her life, his freak condition. How could the world make sense to anyone confronted by him, like this?

  She went to the bathroom to blow her nose.

  ‘Okay, I’ll go get them,’ he said.

  She came back and stood with her arms crossed, looking away rather than trying to talk at his approximate location. ‘How? How are you going to do that?’

  ‘I’ll walk, open your car, grab the meds and walk back. Won’t take more than an hour.’

  ‘I can’t find my keys!’

  He walked to her jeans on the floor, dug around, came up with a small red caribiner with two Honda keys and one regular house key attached.

  She softened a bit. ‘I can’t make you do that.’

  He moved to her, resting a hand on her shoulder. ‘I’ll take care of it, okay?’

  ‘I would do it myself but don’t think I can drive,’ she said through a runny nose. ‘I’m really in a bad place right now.’

  ‘I can’t drive your car back, but I’ll get your meds. Don’t panic. I promise I will come right back, okay? It’s going to be okay.’

  ‘Thank you so much.’

  ‘No big deal. I should be thanking you.’

  She watched him get dressed, his clothes filling out like blown flags, then blinking out as they were absorbed.

  ‘I don’t think I’m ever going to get used to that,’ she said.

  Not yet ten in the morning but already it looked like four in the afternoon, the sky one huge inverted kettle grill filled with charcoal. It was snowing again, albeit gently. If he used the backstreets, he could be downtown in twenty minutes. He walked half a block north on 30th, imagining her alone back in her apartment.

  Was she really unraveling? How bad was another hour going to make her? He was antsy, not just about her meds and whatever not having them for the past two days was doing to her. He couldn’t help feeling that no matter how fast he made the trip, when he returned she would be … not gone, but reverted to her scared self, scared of him, too freaked out by everything to let him stay. Let him stay? What did he think he was going to do with her? Move in? This had to end sometime. Probably she would be depressed or feeling sick, and when he handed her the pills she would take one and then wait for him to leave. She would go
back to her life, to reality, and the whole idea of him would be too bizarre to deal with ever again.

  He walked faster, scanning the streets, seeing no one, thinking of shortcuts. The intersection of Arapahoe and 30th was coming up. Busy, lots of cars. Right next to the Crossroads Mall. In a way traffic was good. The busier the scene was, the easier it would be go move unnoticed. More distractions. But there were a lot of lights and intersections between here and the parking structure on Walnut and 13th. People stop at the light, what do they do? Look around, see what’s happening. What he needed to do was take the Boulder Creek bike path, snaking his way up behind all the homes and businesses, in the trees, where he had more places to hide.

  But first he needed to find the path.

  Without realizing what he was doing, not even sure the path swerved near here, he cut left across the rolling wide flank of Scott Carpenter Park. It was a popular park in a densely populated part of town. On days when it was covered with snow, the large hill and long runway bottom were often overrun with kids aged three to twelve and their sleds, snowboards, toboggans and anything else that could be ridden for cheap entertainment. Parents liked to stand at the base, a cup of coffee in one hand, nervously watching to make sure the big kids didn’t crash into the littler kids, and that none managed to slide all the way into 30th Street.

  But today, at not quite eleven a.m., most of the children were at school and most of their parents were at work. A lone mountain biker, probably a dedicated student, was bundled up and pedaling hard toward campus, moving south on 30th, away from the park, but he did not glance in Noel’s direction. No one happened to be walking by, and there were no plows or park service employees about.