Through the hedges, Evie spied a flash of arm, a dangling leg, and her calm fell away as she ran toward the figure sprawled on the weather-beaten bench.
“James?” Evie whispered so faintly she wasn’t sure he’d heard. But then he sat up, smiling wide at her. With the sun behind him, he glowed.
“Well, if it isn’t my brave sister, Artemis, come to us from the hunt! Pray, what news from Olympus?”
Every night, James would read to her from tales of Greek myth. They often spoke to each other in code that way—she was Artemis, he Apollo. Papa was Zeus. Mama was Hera. It was how they made it through insufferable social gatherings: “But soft! See how yon harpies descend upon the buffet,” James would whisper as a group of church ladies took the best treats at a luncheon. “Release Cerberus,” Evie would whisper back, giggling.
She was supposed to tell him something for her mother, but her heart ached so much that she couldn’t remember what it was. “I… I just missed you. That’s all.”
“Well, I’m right here.”
Evie’s throat tightened. He was there—golden and sweet, her brother-protector, her best friend. A thought intruded, a terrible thought. Evie tried to push it away, but it buzzed at the edges of her consciousness, a bee in the garden.
“No. You’re dead,” she whispered. It felt strange to her that even in dreams, she knew this. Even in dreams, she wasn’t safe from pain. She lost her battle with the tears. And then she felt the shock as his fingers wiped them from her cheeks.
“Now, now, old girl. Don’t you know brave Artemis doesn’t cry? Here.” He plucked a black-eyed Susan and handed it to her. “Hold on.” From the bench, he retrieved a book of poetry—Wordsworth, his favorite. He nodded to the open page. “Here. Put it here.”
Evie laid the flower in the book’s crease, and James read the poem beneath it: “Though nothing can bring back the hour / of splendour in the grass, of glory in the flower; / We will grieve not, rather find / Strength in what remains behind.” Smiling, he slammed the book shut. “There. Preserved for all time.”
Mama’s voice drifted to them from the back porch. “James! Evangeline! Your breakfast will get cold!”
“Yon Hera beckons us to Olympus.”
Evie wanted to grab the edges of the dream like a blanket and wrap it around her, safe and happy. The sun warmed her face. The cicadas grew louder. Across the lawn, her mother and father waved from the back porch, happy and bright. But something wasn’t quite right. The house flickered just slightly. For a brief few seconds, it seemed almost like the entrance to a tunnel rather than a house, and something about the dark inside made Evie very afraid.
“James?” she said, panicked. “James!”
She saw him at the gate, dressed in his army khakis, a rifle slung across his back. The dream was turning. Evie was desperate to grab it back before it was too late.
“James, don’t go,” Evie warned as fog rolled in, rendering her brother a ghost. “You won’t come back. And we’ll be lost without you. We’ll be broken forever. James! Come back!” She was crying now, calling his name over and over, a lament. Her parents and the house were gone. In their place were the tunnel and a woman in a veil. “You can have him back. Dream with me.…”
“I can…” Evie murmured. All she had to do was say yes. And then James would stay with them forever. The dream made her believe it. Why, it couldn’t be simpler!
“I—”
“Brave Artemis!” James said. He stood at the top of the hill in the misty forest of that other dream she hated. “Time to wake up now.”
“No!” Evie screamed as the explosions started.
She woke in her bed, her stomach roiling. She barely made it to the toilet before she vomited up the night’s booze. And then she lay on the cold tile floor, crying.
Across town, Nathan Rosborough stumbled from an all-night poker game quite a bit poorer than when the evening had started. Drunk on Scotch and desperate to be accepted by the other, more important, stockbrokers, he’d played down to the skin of his wallet. He hadn’t wanted them to think he was some kind of quitter. But now, as he sobered a bit, he was worried. He’d be lucky to scrape together enough to eat in the coming week. This thought weighed heavily on Nathan as he stared out at the skyline, the colossus unfurled, and felt a longing so powerful it bordered on obscenity. Then he fished his last nickel from his pocket and stumbled down the steps of the Fulton Street subway station to wait for the train.