“Pain,” I say. “I’m not sure.”
“You’re probably still in shock. I mean, considering what you just went through.”
A flash of Paul on the gray grass. The baby that never was, so soft and warm in my arms. And Grace. Oh god, Grace.
“The doctors said you would be in a lot of pain for a while, especially after the initial shock wears off. They said that’s to be expected.”
“They did?” And I realize there’s no singing in my voice anymore. No shimmer in my cells, no lightness in my blood. My voice sounds heavy, like a felled thing.
“I’m sorry, Miranda. I think it could have been so much worse. Even the doctors were shocked that you weren’t more hurt. Almost annoyed that they couldn’t doctor you more or something.” She smiles. “It’s such a good thing you took that bath. I think maybe it saved you.”
I look in the vanity mirror beside me. There’s a fork in my hair. I’m wearing the red tablecloth Paul tied over my shoulder like a toga. I’m covered in seaweed, twigs, and tiny white and purple flowers. I recall baby Ellie pulling one from my hair. Handing it to me like a gift.
I look back at Ellie, still smiling at me so hopefully, still gripping my hand. It hurts a little, I notice. The bones, the flesh. My heart. Everything.
“You still need to take it easy, of course,” she adds quickly. “Probably weak from that cut on your leg too. It was bleeding pretty badly. But they bandaged you right back up. One of the doctors had a medical bag with him, can you believe it? I’ve never even seen one of those except in the movies. It looked like a prop. I told him it looked like a prop, and he laughed. He said he liked that idea. He said he loved theater so much.”
I look down at my leg, which has indeed been freshly bandaged. The blood is finally not bleeding through. Someone has drawn a frowning face in the center of the bandage like a bull’s-eye. And then I feel it, a dull ache pulsing behind the gauze. Like a dark bruise is blooming there.
“What else did the doctors tell you, Ellie? Did they tell you anything else? Anything about the show?”
Ellie flushes now. “No, nothing.”
“They said something. What did they say, Ellie?”
Ellie just shakes her head. “Miranda, what does it even matter? They’re just doctors. What do they know about theater? Besides, art is subjective.”
“Ellie, please. Please tell me what they said.” I feel the ache in my arm, in my hand as it grips hers.
Ellie looks away from me now. “They said… to tell you that they didn’t really care for it.”
“What did they say exactly?”
“They said it was very… anticlimactic,” she says, still looking away. “Not cathartic enough. Not…” She shakes her head again.
I see myself crying beside Grace’s body in the black box. A circle of men torturing me. How I dragged myself across the stage floor toward the medical table like a snake. The bond I felt holding Ellie in my arms. Before I turned away from her. Before I tried to save Grace. And then there was no Grace. Just an empty corner of gray grass. The agony of my heart ripping apart on the stage, taking my breath away.
“Not a good show,” I finish.
She says nothing.
I feel the wound in my chest again. A sadness that rises and falls like a wave. Only a matter of time, then. Only a matter of time, and it will all come screaming back. The concrete, the webs, the chair, the fat man. After the initial shock wears off. To be expected. Surely no bath or tiny purple flowers can save me.
“I’m sorry, Miranda. I wasn’t going to tell you, even though they said to pass it along. That it was very important that you know. I thought, Why? Why would you need to know that? They were a little weird, honestly. They even said they wanted a refund. That they’d be in touch.”
“In touch.” I close my eyes. The cold darkness fills me. “Of course they will be.”
“If it’s any consolation,” Ellie says, “I thought the show was wonderful. Everyone did. And…” She pauses. Takes a breath. “I’m just so grateful to you. For giving me a chance; for giving me Helen. I really can’t thank you enough for… everything.” She squeezes my hand, and it hurts. Hurts everything. But I don’t pull away. I let it hurt. My whole heart. To my surprise, I even smile at her. “You’re welcome, Ellie. You deserved it.”
“And anyway,” she whispers, “I fixed everything.”
“Fixed everything?”