20 impatience

When I woke up, I was confused. It took me longer than it should have to remember where I was.

The room was too bland to belong anywhere but a hotel. The bedside lamps were bolted to the tables, and the drapes were made from the same fabric as the bedspread.

I tried to remember how I'd gotten to this room, but nothing came at first.

I remembered the sleek black car, the glass in the windows darker than that on a limousine. The engine was almost silent, though we'd raced across the black freeways at more than twice the legal limit.

And I remembered Alice sitting with me on the dark leather backseat. Somehow, during the long night, my head had ended up against her shoulder. She didn't seem to mind my closeness as I leaned against her cold, marble body. I fought back panic and tears thinking about the danger; the danger I was in and the other danger I was worried about.

I asked Alice to keep up a strange stream-of-consciousness future watch all night long. There weren't any details so small they didn't interest me. She'd told me turn by turn how Edward, Carlisle, and Emmett would be moving through the forest, and though I didn't know any of the landmarks she referenced, I'd been riveted by every word. And then she would go back and describe the same sequence differently, as some decision remapped the future. This happened over and over again, and it was impossible to follow, but I didn't care. As long as the future never put Edward and his family in danger, I'd be able to fight the panic.

Sometimes she would switch to Esme for me. Esme and Rosalie were in my truck, heading east. Which meant the red-haired woman was still on their trail.

Alice had a more difficult time seeing Charlie. "Humans are harder than vampires," she told me. "But," she continued, "he's doing fine. Don't worry."

I remembered the sun coming up over a low peak somewhere in California. The light had stung my eyes, but I'd tried not to close them. When I did, the images that flashed behind my lids like still slides were too much. I'd rather my eyes burn than see them again. Charlie's broken expression… Edward's bared teeth… Rosalie's furious glare… the red eyes of the tracker staring at me… the dead look in Edward's eyes when he'd turned away from me…

I kept my eyes open, and the sun moved across the sky.

I remembered my head feeling heavy and light at the same time as we raced through a shallow mountain pass and the sun, behind us now, reflected off the tiled rooftops of my hometown. I hadn't had enough emotion left to be surprised that we'd made a three-day journey in one. I'd stared blankly at the city laid out in front of us, realizing slowly that it was supposed to mean something to me. The scrubby creosote, the palm trees, the green golf course amoebas, the turquoise splotches of swimming pools—these were supposed to be familiar. I was supposed to feel like I was home.

The shadows of the streetlight had slanted across the freeway with lines that were sharper than I remembered. So little darkness. There was no place to hide in these shadows.

"Which way to the airport?" Jasper had asked—the first time he'd spoken since we'd gotten in the car. Though his voice was quiet it had startled me; it was the first sound, besides the purr of the car, to break the long night's silence.

"Stay on the I-ten," I'd answered automatically. "We'll pass right by it."

It had taken me a few seconds more to process the implications of his question. My brain was foggy with exhaustion.

"Are we flying somewhere?" I'd asked Alice. I couldn't think of the plan. This didn't sound right, though.

"No, but it's better to be close, just in case."

I remembered starting the loop around Sky Harbor International… but not ending it. That must have been when my brain had finally crashed.

Though, now that I'd chased the memories down, I did have a vague impression of leaving the car—the sun behind the horizon, my arm draped over Alice's shoulder, her arm around my waist as I stumbled through the warm, dry shadows.

I had no memories of this room.

I looked at the digital clock on the nightstand. The red numbers claimed it was three o'clock, but there was no way to tell if that meant day or night. No light showed around the edges of the thick curtains, but the room was bright with the light from the lamps.

I rose stiffly and staggered to the window, pulling back the drapes.

It was dark outside. Three in the morning, then. The room looked out on a deserted section of the freeway and the new long-term parking garage for the airport. It made me feel better—by a very small amount—to be able to pinpoint time and place.

I looked down. I was still wearing Esme's clothes. I looked around the room and was glad when I saw my duffel bag on top of the low dresser.

A light tap on the door made me jump.

"Can I come in?" Alice asked.

I took a deep breath. "Sure."

She walked in and looked me over. "You look like you could sleep longer."  I shook my head.

She darted silently to the window and pulled the curtains shut.

"We'll need to stay inside," she told me.

"Okay." My voice was hoarse; it cracked.

"Thirsty?" she asked.

I shrugged. "I'm okay. How about you?"

She smiled. "Nothing unmanageable. I ordered some food for you—it's in the front room. Edward reminded me that you have to eat a lot more frequently than we do."

I was instantly more alert. "He called?"

"No." She watched my face fall. "It was before we left. He gave me lots of instructions. Come eat something."

She was out of the room before I could protest that I wasn't hungry. I followed slowly behind her.

There was a living room attached to the bedroom. A low buzz of voices was coming from the TV. Jasper sat at the desk in the corner, his eyes on the TV, but no interest in his expression. Alice perched herself on the arm of the sofa and watched the TV like Jasper.

"What's the latest?" I asked.

"Esme and Rosalie are back in Forks. The redhead gave up chasing them."

I opened my mouth, but Alice was faster.

"They're watching your father. The redhead won't get past them."

"What is she doing—the redhead, I mean?"

Working her way through town, looking for you as far as I can tell—she spent some time at the school."

My eyes bulged. "Did she hurt anyone?"

Alice shook her head. "They seem pretty committed to the hunt they already started."

"Edward?"

"Frustrated, it looks like. They turned on the tracker, but he was already running. He's kept going north. They're chasing him."

I stood there, not sure what to do. Wanting to help, but knowing there was no way I could.

"Eat something, Beau. Edward gets really difficult when he thinks his instructions aren't being followed to the letter."

There was a tray on the coffee table with a couple of stainless steel covers over the plates on it. I couldn't think of anything to do besides follow Alice's order. I sat on the floor next to the table and pulled off the first cover. I didn't look at the food, I just grabbed something and started eating. I was probably hungry. We hadn't stopped for food during our drive.

They were quiet and motionless while I ate. I stared at the TV, but I couldn't make sense of what was happening. Was it a news show? Was it an infomercial? I wasn't sure. I ate until the plates were empty. I didn't taste any of it.

When there was nothing left to eat, I stared at the wall.

All I could think about was Edward chasing James. Edward, faster than the rest. Surely he would catch up with the tracker first.

Laurent's words echoed in my head. You can't bring him down. He's absolutely lethal.

Suddenly Jasper was standing over me, closer than usual.

"Beau," he said in a soothing voice. "You have nothing to worry about. You are completely safe here."

"I know."

"Then why are you frightened?" He sounded confused. He might feel my emotions, but he couldn't see the reason behind them.

"You heard what Laurent said. James is lethal. What if something goes wrong and they get separated? If anything happens, if Carlisle or Emmett—or Edward—" My voice broke. "If that crazy redhead hurts Esme—how do I live with myself when it's my fault? None of you should be risking your lives for—"

"Stop, Beau, stop," he interrupted, his words pouring out so quickly they were hard to understand. "You're worrying about all the wrong things, Beau. Trust me on this—none of us are in jeopardy. You are under enough strain as it is; don't add to it with imaginary worries. Listen to me!" he ordered—I'd looked away. "Our family is strong. Our only fear is losing you."

"But why should you—"

Alice was there then, touching my cheek with her cold fingers. "It's been almost a century that Edward's been alone. Now he's found you. You can't see the changes that we see, we who have been with him for so long. Do you think any of us want to look into his eyes for the next hundred years if he loses you?"

My guilt started to ease. But even though the calm that spread over me felt totally natural, like it came from inside, I knew better.

"You know I'd do this anyway," Alice added. "Even if Edward hadn't ask me to."

"Why?"

She smiled. "It's hard to explain without sounded completely ridiculous… Time doesn't mean the same thing to me that it does to you—or Jazz, or anyone else." Jasper grinned and put his arm around her waist. "So this won't make sense to you. But for me, it's like we've already been friends for a long time, Beau. The first second you became a part of Edward's life, for me it was like we'd already spent hundreds of hours together. We've laughed at Edward's overreactions together, we've annoyed Rosalie right out of the house together, we've stayed up all night talking with Carlisle together…"

I stared and she shrugged delicately. "It's how I experience the world."

"We're friends?" I asked, my voice full of wonder.

"Best friends," she told me. "Someday. It was nice of my favorite brother, don't you think, to fall in love with my best friend? I guess I owe him one."

"Huh," was all I could think to say.

Alice laughed.

Jasper rolled his eyes. "Thanks so much, Alice. I just got him calm."

"No, I'm good," I promised. Alice could be lying to make me feel better, but either way it worked. It wasn't so bad if Alice wanted to help me, too. If she wasn't just doing it for Edward.

"So what do we do now?" I asked.

"We wait for something to change."

It was a very long day.

We stayed in the room. Alice called down to the front desk and asked them to suspend our housekeeping service. The curtains stayed shut, the TV on, though no one watched it. At regular intervals, food was delivered for me.

It was funny how I was suddenly comfortable with Alice. It was like her vision of our friendship, spoken out loud, had made it real. She sat in the chair next to the sofa where I had curled up, and answered all the questions I'd been too nervous to ask before. Sometimes she'd answer them before I asked them. It was a little weird, but I figured that was how everyone else felt around Edward all the time.

"Yes," she said, when I thought about asking her that. "It's exactly the same. He tries hard not to be obnoxious about it."

She told me about waking up.

"I only remembered one thing, but I'm not even sure it was a memory. I thought I remembered someone saying my name—calling me Alice. But maybe I was remembering something that hadn't happened yet—seeing that someday someone would call me Alice." She smiled at my expression. "I know, it's a circular dilemma, isn't it?"

"My hair?" She ran a hand through her short, inky hair. "It would have been a little short even for 1920. My best guess is disease or perhaps bad behavior."

"Bad behavior?" I asked.

She shrugged. "I might have been in prison."

"You couldn't have been much older than me," I protested.

She put a delicate finger to her chin thoughtfully. "I like to believe if I was a criminal, I was both a mastermind and a prodigy."

Jasper—back at the desk and mostly silent—laughed with me.

"It wasn't confusing the way it probably should have been," Alice said when I asked her what her first visions were like. "It seemed normal—I knew what I was seeing hadn't happened. I think maybe I'd seen things before I changed. Or maybe I just adapt quickly." She smiled, already knowing the question I had waiting. "It was Jasper. He was the first thing I saw." And then, "No, I didn't actually meet him in person until much later."

Something about her tone made me wonder. "How long?"

"Twenty-eight years."

"Twenty-eight…? You had to wait twenty-eight years? But couldn't you…?"

She nodded. "I could have found him earlier. I knew where he was. But he wasn't ready for me yet. If I'd come too early, he would have killed me."

I gasped and stared at him. He raised an eyebrow at me, and I looked back at Alice. She laughed.

"But Edward said you were the only one who could hold your own against him--?"

Jasper growled—not like he was mad, like he was annoyed. I glanced at him again and he was rolling his eyes.

"We'll never know," Alice said. "If Jazz was really trying to kill Edward, rather than just playing…? Well, Jazz has a lot of experience. Seeing the future isn't the only reason why I can keep up with Edward—it's also because it was Jasper who taught me how to fight. Laurent's coven all had their eyes on Emmett—he's pretty spectacular, I grant you. But if it had come to a fight, Emmett wouldn't have been their problem. If they'd taken a closer look at my darling"—she blew him a kiss—"they would have forgotten all about the strong man."

I remembered the first time I'd seen Jasper, in the cafeteria with his family. Beautiful, like the others, but with that edge. Even before I'd put it into words inside my own head, I'd sensed there was something about him that matched up with what Alice was telling me now.

I looked at Alice.

"You can ask him," she said. "But he's not going to tell you."

"He wants to know my story?" Jasper guessed. He laughed once—it was a dark sound. "You're not ready for that, Beau. Believe me."

And though I was still curious, I did believe him.

"You said humans were harder… but you seem to see me pretty well," I noted.

"I'm paying attention, and you're right here," Alice said. "Also, the two-second head starts are simpler than the weather. It's the long term that won't hold still. Even an hour complicates thing. I can only see the course someone is on while they're on it. Once they change their minds—make a new decision, no matter how small—the whole future shifts."

Alice kept me updated on what was happening with the others—which was mostly nothing. James was good at running away. There were tricks, Alice told me. Scents couldn't be tracked through water, for example. James seemed to know the tricks. A half dozen times the trail took them back toward Forks, only to race off in the other direction again. Twice Alice called Carlisle to give him instructions. Once it was something about the direction in which James had jumped off a cliff, the other time it was where they would find his scent on the other side of a river. From the way she described it, she wasn't seeing the hunter, she was seeing Edward and Carlisle. I guessed she would see her family most clearly. I wanted to ask for the phone, but I knew there wasn't time for me to hear Edward's voice. They were hunting.

I also knew I was supposed to be rooting for Edward and the others to succeed, and for my own sake I desperately wanted them to, but I couldn't help but feel relieved knowing the distance between Edward and James grew larger, despite Alice's help. If it meant I would be stuck in here in this hotel room forever, I wouldn't complain. Whatever kept me safe, kept Edward safe, and kept his family safe.

There was one more question that I wanted to ask, but I hesitated. It was a question I wanted to know the answer to. Mostly I wanted to know because I was curious, but I also knew that because I had made the choice to go down this road—because I had chosen Edward—this was something I felt like I needed to know. I think if Jasper hadn't been there, I might have done it sooner. I didn't feel the same ease in his presence that I did now with Alice. Which was probably only because he wasn't trying to make me feel that way.

When I was eating—dinner? Maybe, I couldn't remember which meal I was on—I was thinking about different ways to ask. And then I caught a look on Alice's face and I knew that she already knew what I was trying to ask, and unlike my dozens of other questions, she was choosing not to answer this one.

My eyes narrowed.

"Was this on Edward's list of instructions?" I asked sourly.

I thought I heard a faint sigh from Jasper's corner. It was probably annoying listening to half a conversation. But he should be used to that. I'd best Edward and Alice never had to speak out loud at all when they talked to each other.

"It was implied," Alice answered.

I thought about their fight in the Jeep. Was this what it was about?

"I don't suppose our future friendship is enough to shift your loyalties?"

She smirked. "Edward is my brother."

"Even if you disagree with him on this?"

We stared at each other for a minute.

"That's what you saw," I realized. I felt my eyes get bigger. "And then he got so upset. You already saw it, didn't you?"

"It was only one future among many. I also saw you die," she reminded me.

"But you saw it. It's a possibility."

She shrugged.

"Don't you think I deserve to know, then? Even if there's only the slightest chance?"

She stared at me, deliberating.

"You do," she finally said. "You have the right to know."

I waited.

"You don't know fury like Edward when he's thwarted," she warned me.

"It's none of his business. This is between you and me. As your friend, I'm begging you."

She paused, then made her choice. "I can tell you the mechanics of it, but I don't remember it myself, and I've never done it or seen it done, so keep in mind that I can only tell you the theory."

"How does someone become a vampire?"

"Oh, is that all?" Jasper muttered behind me. I'd forgotten he was listening.

I waited.

"As predators," Alice began, "we have a glut of weapons in our physical arsenal—much, much more than we need for hunting easy prey like humans. Strength, speed, acute senses, not to mention those of us like Edward, Jasper, and me who have extra senses as well. And then, like a carnivorous flower, we are physically attractive to our prey."

I was seeing it all in my head again—how Edward had illustrated the same concept for me in the meadow.

She smiled a wide, ominous smile—her teeth glistened. "We have one more, fairly superfluous weapon. We're also venomous. The venom doesn't kill—it's merely incapacitating. It works slowly, spreading through the bloodstream, so that, once bitten, our prey is in too much physical pain to escape us. Mostly superfluous, as I said. If we're that close, our prey doesn't escape. Of course, unless we want it to."

"Carlisle," I said quietly. The holes in the story Edward had told me were filling themselves in. "So… if the venom is left to spread…?"

"It takes a few days for the transformation to be complete, depending on how much venom is in the bloodstream, how close the venom enters to the heart—Carlisle's creator bit him on the hand on purpose to make it worse. As long as the heart keeps beating, the poison spreads, healing, changing the body as it moves through it. Eventually the heart stops, and the conversion is finished. But all that time, every minute of it, a victim would be wishing for death—screaming for it.

I shuddered.

"It's not pleasant, no."

"Edward said it was very hard to do… but that sounds simple enough."

"We're also like sharks in a way. Once we taste blood, or even smell it for that matter, it becomes very hard to keep from feeding. Impossible, even. So you see, to actually bite someone, to taste the blood, it would begin the frenzy. It's difficult on both sides—the bloodlust on the one hand, the awful pain on the other."

"Why do you think you don't remember?"

"I don't know. For everyone else, the pain of transformation is the sharpest memory they have of their human life.  I remember nothing of being human." Her voice was wistful.

Alice stared past me, motionless. I wondered what it would be like, not to know who you were. To look in the mirror and not recognize the person looking back.

It hurt to think of Alice waking up, lost, confused, not knowing who she was or why she there. There was something intrinsically good about Alice, about her very being. There was something better than perfection about Alice's face. It was totally pure.

"There are positives to being different," Alice said suddenly. "I don't remember anyone I left behind. I got to skip that pain, too." She looked at me, and her eyes narrowed little bit. "Carlisle, Edward, and Esme all lost everyone who mattered to them before they left being human behind. So there was grief, but not regret. It was different for the others. The physical pain is a quick thing, comparatively, Beau. There are slower ways to suffer…"

"Rosalie had parents who loved her and depended on her—two little sisters she adored. She could never see them again after she was changed. And then she outlived them all. That kind of pain is very, very slow."

I wondered if she was trying to make me feel bad for Rosalie—to cut her some slack even if she hated me. Well… it was working.

She shook her head, like she knew I wasn't getting it.

"That's part of the process, Beau. I haven't experienced it. I can't tell you what it feels like. But it's a part of the process."

And then I understood what she was telling me.

She was perfectly still again. I put my arm behind my head and stared up at the ceiling.

If… if ever, someday, Edward wanted me that way… what would that mean for Mom? What would that mean for Charlie?

There were so many things to think about. Thing I didn't even know I didn't know to think about.

But some things seemed obvious. For whatever reason, Edward didn't want me thinking about any of this. Why? Was it because Edward wanted to change me but was afraid I wouldn't let him if I knew how painful it would be? No, Edward didn't want to change me. He didn't want me to think about the possibility. 

Alice suddenly sprang to her feet.

I looked up at her, startled by the sudden movement, then alarmed again when I saw her face.

It was totally blank—empty, her mouth half open.

Then Jasper was there, gently pushing her back into the chair.

"What do you see?" he asked in a low, soothing voice.

"Something's changed," Alice said, even more quietly.

I leaned closer.

"What is it?"

"A room. It's long—there are mirrors everywhere. The floor is wood. The tracker is in the room, and he's waiting. There's a gold stripe across the mirrors."

"Where is the room?"

"I don't know. Something is missing—another decision hasn't been made yet."

"How much time?"

"It's soon. He'll be in the mirror room today, or maybe tomorrow. It all depends. He's waiting for something." Her face went blank again. "And he's in the dark now."

Jasper's voice was calm, methodical. "What is he doing?"

"He's watching TV… no, he's running a VCR, in the dark, in another place."

"Can you see where he is?"

"No, the space is too dark."

"And the mirror room, what else is there?"

"Just the mirrors, and the gold. It's a band, around the room. This is the room where he waits." Her eyes drifted, then focused on Jasper's face.

"There's nothing else?"

She shook her head. They looked at each other, motionless.

"What does it mean?" I asked.

Neither of them answered for a moment, then Jasper looked at me.

"It means the tracker's plans have changed. He's made a decision that will lead him to the mirror room, and the dark room."

"But we don't know where those rooms are?"

"No."

"But we do know that he won't be in the mountains north of Washington, being hunted. He'll elude them." Alice's voice was bleak.

She picked up the phone just as it vibrated.

"Carlisle," she said. And then she glanced at me. "Yes." She listened for another long moment, then said, "I just saw him." She described the vision like she had for Jasper. "Whatever made him get on that plane… it was leading him to those rooms." She paused. "Yes."

She held out the phone to me. "Beau?"

I yanked it out of her hand. "Hello?"

"Beau," Edward breathed.

"Oh, Edward," I said. "Where are you?"

"Outside of Vancouver. I'm sorry, Beau—we lost him. He seems suspicious of us—he stays just far enough away that I can't hear him. He's gone now—looks like he took a plane. We think he's heading back to Forks to start over."

I could hear Alice filling in Jasper behind me.

"I know. Alice saw that he got away." I sighed.

"You don't have to worry, though. He won't find anything to lead him to you. You just have to stay there and wait till find him again."

"I'll be fine. Is Esme with Charlie?"

"Yes—the red-head's been in town. She went to the house, but while Charlie was at work. She hasn't gone near your father. Don't worry—Charlie's safe with Esme and Rosalie watching."

What do you think Victoria is doing?"

"Probably trying to pick up the trail. She's been all through the town during the night. Rosalie traced her through the airport, all the roads around town, the school… she's digging, Beau, but there's nothing to find."

"And you're sure Charlie's safe?"

"Yes, Esme won't let him out her sight. And we'll be there soon. If the tracker gets anywhere near Forks, we'll have him."

I swallowed. "Be careful. Stay with Carlisle and Emmett."

"I will."

"I miss you," I whispered.

"I know, believe me, I know. It's like you've taken half of my self away with you."

"Come and get it, then." I challenged.

"As soon as I possibly can. I will make you safe first." His voice was hard.

"I love you."

"Could you believe that, despite everything I've put you through, I love you, too?"

"Yes, I can."

"I'll come for you soon."

"I'll wait for you."

The phone went dead, and a sudden wave of depression crashed over me. Jasper looked up sharply, and the feeling dissipated.

Jasper went back to watching Alice. She was on the couch, leaning over the table sketching on a piece of hotel stationery. I leaned on the back of the couch, looking over her shoulder.

She drew a room: long, rectangular, with a thinner, square section at the back. She drew lines to show how the wooden planks that made up the floor stretched lengthwise across the room. Down the walls were more lines denoting the breaks in the mirrors. I hadn't been picturing them like that—covering the whole wall that way. And then, wrapping around the walls, waist high, a long band. The band Alice said was gold.

"It's a ballet studio," I said, suddenly recognizing the familiar shapes.

They both looked up at me, surprised.

"Do you know this room?" Jasper's voice sounding calm, but there was an undercurrent to it. Alice leaned closer to the paper, her hand flying across the page now. An emergency exit took shape against the back wall just where I knew it would be; the stereo and TV filled in the right corner foreground.

"It looks like a place where my mom used to teach dance lessons—I took a few lessons there too, but I wasn't any good. It was shaped just the same." I touched the page where the square section jutted out, narrowing the back part of the room. "That's where the bathrooms were—the doors were through the other dance floor. But the stereo was here"—I pointed to the left corner—"it was older, and there wasn't a TV. There was a window in the waiting room—you could see the room from this perspective if you looked through it."

Alice and Jasper were staring at me.

"Are you sure it's the same room?" Jasper asked with the same unnatural calm.

"No, not at all. I mean, most dance studios would look the same—the mirrors, the bar." I moved around the couch to stand at the table, I leaned over and traced my finger along the ballet bar set against the mirrors. "It's just the shape that looked familiar."

"Would you have any reason to go there now?" Alice asked.

"No. I haven't been back since my mom quit—it's probably been ten years."

"So there's no way it could be connected with you?" Alice asked intently.

I shook my head. "I don't even think the same person owns it. I'm sure it's just another dance studio, somewhere else."

"Where was the studio you and your mother went to?" Jasper asked, his voice much more casual than Alice's.

"Just around the corner from our house… I could meet her there when I walked home from school…" My voice trailed off as I watched the look they exchanged.

"Here in Phoenix, then?" He asked, still casual.

"Yes," I whispered. "Fifty-eighth and Cactus."

We all stared in silence at the drawing.

"Alice, is that phone safe?" I asked.

"The number just traces back to Washington," she told me.

"Then I can use it to call my mom."

"She's in Florida, right? She should be safe there."

"She is—but she's coming home soon, and she can't come back to that house while…" A tremor ran through my voice. I was thinking about Victor searching Charlie's house, the school in Forks where my records were.

"What's her number?" Alice asked. She had the phone in her hand.

"They don't have a permanent number except at the house. She's supposed to check her messages there regularly."

"Jasper?" Alice asked.

He thought about it. "I don't think it could hurt—don't say where you are, obviously."

I nodded, reaching for the phone. I dialed the familiar number, then waited through four rings until my mother's breezy voice came on, telling me to leave a message.

"Mom," I said after the beep, "it's me. Listen, I need you to do something. It's important. As soon as you get this message, call me at this number." Alice pointed to the number already written on the bottom of her picture. I read it carefully, twice. "Please don't go anywhere until you talk to me. Don't worry, I'm okay, But I have to talk to you right way, no matter how late you get this call, all right? I love you, Mom. Bye." I closed my eyes and prayed that no unforeseen change of plans would bring her home before she got my message.

Then we were back to waiting.

I thought about calling Charlie, but I wasn't sure what I could say. I watched the news, concentrating now, watching for stories about Florida, or about spring training—strikes or hurricanes or floods—anything that might send them home early.

I seemed like immortality granted endless patience, too. Neither Jasper nor Alice seemed to feel the need to do anything at all. For a while, Alice sketched the vague outline of the dark room from her vision, as much as she could see in the light from the TV. But when she was done, she simply sat, looking at the blank walls. Jasper, too, seemed to have no urge to pace, or to peek through the curtains, or run screaming out the door, the way I did.

I fell asleep on the couch, waiting for the phone to ring. The touch of Alice's cold hands woke me briefly as she carried me to the bed, but I was unconscious again before my head hit the pillow.