From what?
From a dream?
Or from other worlds?
“I know who you are,” I said.
That made her hesitate. “You know me? Well, your wife probably mentioned that I’m the doctor who’s been monitoring you while you were in your coma. You had us all very worried. It’s a great relief to see you doing so well.”
“Thank you.”
I kept looking for a sign in her face, for some kind of recognition that she knew what had been happening to me. I wanted her to admit that she was still my conjurer. My magician.
Instead, she checked my vitals, and that was all.
“We’ll still need to monitor you closely for a while, Mr. Moran, but right now, everything looks extremely promising.”
“Good.”
“You may find you have memory lapses,” she added, as if I were lying on her couch in Hancock Center, twenty-nine floors above the endless lights of the Lucent sculpture.
“Not so far,” I said. Then I added pointedly, “I remember everything.”
“I’m pleased to hear it, but you may still experience side effects from the oxygen deprivation. You may become aware of cognitive difficulties that require some relearning and rehabilitation. I also suggest that you think about getting counseling after you’re released. The physical implications of what you’ve been through are serious enough, but there are likely to be emotional and psychological ramifications, too. Don’t feel that you have to manage those things alone.”
“If I have Karly, I’ll be fine.”
“I understand, but you may want to consider professional counseling, too.”
I said nothing. Dr. Brier looked disconcerted by my attitude. She checked my pulse, which she’d already done, and the touch of her fingers was warm. Her nails were long, and they pressed slightly into my skin. Then she bent over to check my lungs with her stethoscope and asked me to breathe as deeply as I could. While she was close to me, I caught a faint aroma of perfume, like roses, which took me back to the embrace she’d given me near the Buckingham Fountain.
“Your lungs are clear,” she said. “That’s excellent.”
“Good.”
“Are you in pain? I can give you something.”
“I don’t want anything.”
Dr. Brier stood up and slipped the stethoscope out of her ears. Her eyes narrowed as she looked at me in bed. “You know, Mr. Moran, patients who are in induced comas often have disturbing experiences.”
“Really?”
“Yes. Extremely vivid nightmares are common. Some patients describe them as hallucinations or phantasms. They experience terror, paranoia. Elements of the real world can creep into their dreams, albeit in distorted fashion. The sensations can feel quite real, and they can linger for a while once you regain consciousness. Did you go through anything like that?”
“I’m still processing what I went through,” I replied.
“Of course. Well, I’ll let you rest.”
She gave me that strange intimate smile again, and I thought to myself: You know, don’t you?
When she got to the door, I called after her. “Dr. Brier?”
“Yes?”
“Say the word.”
She came closer to the bed. “What?”
“Say the word.”
We stared at each other. Doctor and patient. Illusionist and fool. Puppet master and doll. I expected her to let the truth slip. I thought she’d put up a finger to remind me to be quiet and then soundlessly invite me to read her lips.
She’d mouth the word and wink.
Infinite.
But no. She played her part to the end. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what you mean, Mr. Moran.”
“It doesn’t matter,” I replied. “Thank you for everything. I mean that.”
“You’re welcome.”
“You changed my life, and I’ll always be grateful. Eve.”
“It was my pleasure. Dylan.”
Then she was gone.
And me? I was home.
Epilogue
“Is Ellie still okay?” I teased my wife. “It’s been at least twenty minutes since you checked.”
Karly flushed with embarrassment as she slid her phone back into her purse. She’d already called her parents four times to make sure that our daughter was fine. Which, of course, she was. But this was the first time we’d gone out on our own since Ellie was born, so I understood why Karly was nervous.
“Oh, yes, everything’s perfect. Just like you said it would be. If you can believe it, my dad says that my mother is on her knees squawking and making duck noises to entertain her.”
“Susannah? Please tell me he took video.”
“He did. He’s sending it to my phone. You know, I’m beginning to think this grandparent thing may buy me a free pass for having quit the real estate business.”
I smiled at my sudden sense of déjà vu. “Do you miss it?”
“No. What about you?”
“The hotel biz? Not a bit. I prefer the nonprofit world. Well, except when I see my paycheck.”
“We do okay,” Karly said.
She slipped her hand into mine as we stood by the lake. It was a clear July evening, late, with the day’s blue sky giving way to darkness. Only a handful of stars outshone the lights of the city. Crowds surrounded us up and down the lakeshore. Other couples walked hand in hand, children squealed, and joggers ran along the waterfront sidewalk. Behind us, we could hear the strains of rock music blaring from the band shell in Grant Park. Polish, Mexican, Greek, barbecue, and a hundred other ethnic food aromas mixed in the air. The Taste of Chicago festival was going on, and thousands of people were squeezed into downtown on a Saturday night. We’d come here to join the party.
And to mark an anniversary.
“Two years,” Karly said, because she could see we were thinking about the same thing. “Two years ago tonight, we nearly died in that river.”
Despite the warm air, she shivered with a memory of being under the water. I tilted up her chin and kissed her soft lips. “But we didn’t die.”
“No.”
“Do you want the truth? I wouldn’t change what happened even if I could. That night made everything better.”
“I know it did.”
“Look at me now,” I added, smiling. “I’m married to the poet laureate of River Park.”
Karly rolled her eyes. “It’s one book. We’ll be lucky if we make five hundred dollars.”
“That doesn’t matter. I’m incredibly proud of you.”
She shoved me away playfully, but I knew she was pleased. We’d spent a lot of sleepless nights while she was pregnant and after Ellie was born, and sometimes Karly would sit by the fire and murmur poems into the voice recorder on her phone. She said she didn’t know where the words came from; it was almost as if they just sprang into her head from someone else’s mind. To her surprise, when she let her father read them, he said they were good. He sent them to his publisher, who thought they were good, too.
I wasn’t surprised at all.
Karly inhaled the atmosphere of the park. She still had some pent-up energy. We’d already been here for hours, walking, kissing, talking, sampling foods, but Karly wanted to make the most of our one night of freedom. Her parents had Ellie until morning, so this was our time to be lovers again.
Her face glowed as she spied on the people around us. That had always been one of her gifts, to glory in the happiness of others. The older woman on the bench, with her head on her husband’s shoulder. The two ten-year-olds kicking a soccer ball back and forth on the grass. A street performer juggling bowling pins for tips. A woman in a purple sports bra, jogging toward us, caught up in whatever music she was listening to on her earbuds.