Liz sighs. Looking at it objectively, she supposes she died in the dream. Liz wonders what it means when you die in your dreams, and she resolves to ask her mom in the morning. All at once, she wonders if going to sleep again is the answer. Maybe if she can just manage to fall asleep, the next time she wakes up, everything will be back to normal. She feels grateful to Thandi for making her memorize their cabin number.
As Liz walks briskly back across the deck, she notices an SS Nile life preserver. Liz smiles at the ship’s name. The week before, she had been studying ancient Egypt in Mrs. Early’s world history class. While the lesson was entertaining enough (war, pestilence, plague, murder), Liz considered the whole pyramid thing a real waste of time and resources. In Liz’s opinion, a pyramid was really the same as a pine box or a Quaker oats container; by the time pharaoh got to enjoy his pyramid, he’d be dead anyway. Liz thought the Egyptians should have lived in the pyramids and been buried in their huts (or wherever it was that ancient Egyptian people had lived).
At the end of the unit, Mrs. Early read a poem about Egypt which began, “I met a traveler from an antique land.” For some reason, the line gave Liz chills, the pleasurable kind, and she kept repeating it to herself all day: “I met a traveler from an antique land; I met a traveler from an antique land.” Liz supposes Mrs. Early’s lesson is the reason she dreams of a ship called the SS Nile.
In Memory of Elizabeth Marie Hall
N ight after night, Liz goes to sleep, but she never wakes up in Medford; time passes, but she doesn't know how much. Despite a thorough search of the boat, neither she nor Thandi can unearth a single calendar, television, telephone, computer, or even radio. The only thing Liz knows for sure is that she is no longer bald a quarter inch of hair covers her entire head. How long, she wonders, does hair take to grow? How long does a dream have to last before it's just life?
Liz is lying in her bed, staring at the upper bunk, when she notices the sound of Thandi sobbing.
"Thandi," Liz asks, craning her neck upward, "are you all right?"
Thandi's crying intensifies. Finally, she is able to speak. "I m-m-miss my boyfriend."
Liz hands Thandi a tissue. Although the Nile lacks modern electronic devices, tissue abounds.
"What's his name?"
"Reginald Christopher Doral Monmount Harris the Third," Thandi says, "but I call him Slim even though he's anything but. You have a guy, Liz?"
Liz takes a moment to contemplate this question. Her romantic life has been sadly lacking to this point. When she was in second grade, Raphael Annuncio brought her a box of conversational hearts on Valentine's Day. Although it seemed a promising gesture, Raphael asked her to return the candy the next morning. It was too late: she had already eaten all but one of the hearts (U R 2
SWEET).
And then in eighth grade, she invented a boyfriend to make herself appear more worldly to the popular girls in school. Liz claimed she met Steve Detroit (that was what she called him!) when she was visiting her cousin at Andover. Steve Detroit may have been a fictional boy, but Liz made him a real bastard. He cheated on Liz, called her fat, made her do his homework, and even borrowed ten dollars without paying it back.
In the summer before ninth grade, Liz met a boy at camp. A counselor named Josh, who once sort of held her elbow at a bonfire, a move which Liz found inexplicably delightful and astonishing.
Upon returning home, Liz wrote him a passionate letter, but sadly he did not respond. Later, Liz would wonder if Josh had even realized he was holding her elbow. Maybe he had just thought the elbow was part of the armrest?
To date, her most serious relationship was with Edward, a cross-country runner. They were in the same math class. Liz had ended the relationship in January, before the start of the spring season.
She couldn't bear to attend even one more meet. Cross-country, in Liz's opinion, was quite possibly the most boring sport on earth. Liz wonders if Edward would care if she were dead.
"So, Liz," Thandi asks, "do you have a boyfriend, or not?"
"Not really," Liz admits.
"You're lucky. I don't think Slim misses me at all."
Liz doesn't answer. She doesn't know if she is lucky.
She gets out of bed and looks at herself in the mirror over the bureau. Except for her current haircut, she isn't terrible looking, and yet the boys in her class never seem particularly interested.
With a sigh, Liz examines the new hair that is growing on her head. She cranes her neck, trying to see what the back looks like. And that's when she sees it: a long row of stitches sewn in a Cshaped arc over her left ear. The wound is beginning to heal, and hair is beginning to grow over the stitches. But they are still there. Liz gingerly touches the stitches with her hand. The stitches feel like they should hurt, but they don't.
"Thandi, have you seen these before?"
"Yeah, they been there as long as you been here."
Liz marvels that she hadn't noticed them. "It's odd, isn't it," she asks, "that you should have a hole in the back of your head, and I should have these stitches over my ear, and yet we're both fine? I mean, these stitches don't hurt at all."
"You don't remember how you got them?"
Liz thinks for a moment. "In the dream," she begins and then stops. "I think I may have been in this sort of a . . . this sort of a bicycle accident."
Suddenly, Liz needs to sit down. She feels cold and breathless. "Thandi," Liz says, "I want to know how you got the hole in your head."
"It's like I told you. I was shot."
"Yes, but what happened? Specifically, I mean."
"Best I can recall, I was walking down my street with Slim. We live in D.C., by the way. This crazy bullet comes out of nowhere. Slim's yelling at me to duck, and then he's screaming, 'SHE'S
BLEEDING! OH LORD, SHE'S BLEEDING!' Next thing I know, you're waking me up on this very boat, asking me where you are." Thandi twirls one of her braids around her finger. "You know, Liz, at first I didn't remember everything, either, but then I started to remember more and more."
Liz nods. "Are you sure you aren't dreaming all of this?"
"I know that's your opinion of the matter, but I know I'm not dreaming. Dreaming feels like dreaming, and this doesn't feel like dreaming."
"But it doesn't seem possible, does it? You getting shot in the head, and me in a serious bicycle crash, and both of us walking around perfectly fine, as if nothing happened."
Thandi shakes her head, but chooses not to speak.
"Plus, why would Curtis Jest be here? Isn't meeting a famous rock star the sort of thing that only happens in a dream?" Liz asks.
"But, Liz, you know those marks on his arm?"
"Yes."
"I had this cousin in Baltimore called Shelly. Shelly had marks sort of like that. They're the sort of marks you get when you're using " Liz interrupts Thandi. "I don't want to know about that. Curtis Jest is nothing like your cousin Shelly from Baltimore. Nothing at all!"
"Fine, but don't get mad at me. You're the one bringing this stuff up."
"I'm sorry, Thandi," Liz apologizes. "I'm just trying to figure everything out."
Thandi lets out a long, plaintive sigh. "Girl, you are in denial," she says.
Before Liz has a chance to ask Thandi what she means, someone pushes a large beige envelope under the cabin door. Grateful for the distraction, Liz retrieves the envelope. It is addressed in deep blue ink:
Liz opens the door. She looks up and down the hallway, but no one is there.
Returning to the bottom bunk, Liz looks in the envelope. Inside, she finds a plain card with a vellum overlay and an odd hexagonal coin with a round hole in the center. The coin reminds Liz of the subway tokens back home. The coin is embossed with the words one eternim on the front and official currency of elsewhere on the back. The card appears to be an invitation, but the occasion isn't specified: