“Go out for coffee,” Antonia told her. “Take a walk. Make sure you have some time for yourself.” But all Gideon’s mother could do was go back to her rented apartment and cry.
What filled the mind of a person in a coma was a mystery. The networks of the brain shut down, but some of these patterns might be rerouted to places most minds didn’t use. It was not sleep that befell such a patient, but a state much like being anesthetized. Parts of the brain went dark, but people in comas had dreams, memories, visions, and some had vivid nightmares. Recordings of sounds at all pitches had been played in an attempt to stimulate Gideon’s brain and his responses had been charted. He was reacting to certain noise, according to his EEG, especially when music was played, with Yo-Yo Ma’s recordings affecting him more than any other. Gideon was in there. He was. His mother thought she’d seen her boy’s eyes brim with tears as he listened to Bach’s Cello Suite No. 1 in G Major, but when she spoke to the doctors they were evasive. Wait and see, was all they said.
During Antonia’s visit, she noticed that Gideon was moving his hand without any stimulus. She went to see the doctor in charge and was told it was an uncontrolled tremor, nothing more, but she didn’t think so. Gideon’s movements were specific, and actually quite odd. He appeared to be trying to fit a key into a lock.
Antonia lightly ran a finger over his wrist. “Tell me where you are.”
He couldn’t answer, though he tried. He was in a labyrinth. The walls were constructed of hedges with black leaves. He had a key in his hand. It had once been silver, but now was black. There was the door, but he couldn’t quite reach it. He was used to being in charge of his body, he was so tall and strong, a runner who could go for miles, who had run the last Boston Marathon, cheered on by Kylie at Heartbreak Hill. But now he was in a different place where none of those attributes mattered. It was like walking through water, every step took supreme effort and led nowhere. He simply could not reach the door. He was so frustrated he shook his head, but in his hospital bed he merely winced.
“Talk to me,” Antonia said, leaning in. If only Kylie could speak to him, perhaps she could reach him. Antonia dialed her sister’s number but all she got was a fast beeping and no answer. “Oh, Gideon,” Antonia said. “If you could only hear me.”
In his in-between world, Gideon recognized the voice as belonging to Kylie’s sister and he wished he could tell her where he was. He wished there was a way to get back. He couldn’t get to the door and he couldn’t use the damn key. He groaned and Antonia took his hand. She could feel that he was captured, as surely as if he’d been bound with rope. Gideon grasped her hand for a moment; it was no tremor, she was sure of it, then he let go. He had no choice but to return to the darkness and search for the door that would open the world to him once more.
* * *
Antonia had agreed to meet Ariel for a late lunch, to discuss the papers in the Owens family trust. When she arrived, forty minutes late, Ariel was waiting for her outside the restaurant on Beacon Hill, her back fitted against a brick wall, reading a mystery that had an Emily Dickinson line as its title, Started Early, Took My Dog. The hour technically made it a dinner date.
“Sorry. Time got away from me.” Antonia was exhausted as usual, but for some reason she felt utterly awake in Ariel Hardy’s presence.
“How’s the boy?” Ariel asked.
“Not good.”
Antonia was still puzzling out her drowning dream. There had been crows in the trees and the water in the pond was tinged green. She had taken note of a glass jar deposited on the ground; inside was a thin slip of paper, twisted around like a snake, printed with pale red ink. The weeds were tall and she didn’t realize they were stinging nettle until it was too late; she’d already reached for the jar. As she read the note, the palms of her hands were on fire. She fumbled with the note and let it fall; in a wild attempt to escape the ill effects of the nettle, she ran into the water in the hopes of soothing the flame she now felt. After she woke she couldn’t remember the message she’d read in her dream.