In Philadelphia, I give Em turn-by-turn directions to get us to the hospital. Imposing and sterile-looking with lots of windows and a water fountain in the front. It looks secure, and I wonder how Priya managed to escape from it undetected.
Ah, but she’s stealthy. After all, she spent a day in my house and in Dad’s workshop without me or my mother even knowing she was there, and she knew exactly how to sneak around the Aokis’ house looking for Boo. I imagine her slipping out of the hospital via a back staircase, hiding whenever someone happened by. She was determined to get to that field for some reason, and I have no doubt she could have awkwardly scaled the outside of this building, if that was what it took, with no one batting an eye.
“This is it,” I tell Em, banging a hand on the dashboard. She finds the parking garage and locates a spot close to the stairs.
“You coming in?” I ask her.
“You sure you want me?”
I point at Brian, who’s still asleep. “Him? No. You? Yes.”
“He can be supportive, you know, when you give him a chance.” She frowns. “I can’t believe I’m saying that.”
“Yeah. No.”
She hesitates for a moment and then tucks her keys into Brian’s pocket. “Okay. I’m sure he’ll be fine.”
My palms begin to sweat on the walk. I turn to Emily. “Thank you for doing this.”
“What else was I going to do today?”
“I don’t know. Swim, probably.”
“Yeah, probably.”
“Look, Em . . . I know she’s just—”
“Go,” she commands. “Just go.”
Because of my mom, I’ve been in hospitals often enough to know that being kind and polite goes a lot further than making demands on staff. At the information desk I show the receptionist Priya’s ID bracelet and ask if it’s at all possible that I, and my very respectful friend here, could see our friend.
“I’ll send you up,” she says. “But it’s the parents’ say-so if you can go in.”
On the way up in the elevator, I start to sweat again. Since I discovered Priya was missing this morning, I haven’t even stopped to consider what might be wrong with her. The news articles were brief and didn’t mention anything about her illness.
Does she have a virus? An infection? A disease?
Is she on the mend? In the middle of some kind of treatment? Or . . .
Ding! The elevator stops on our floor but I can’t move. Emily takes my arm and pulls me out. “It’s okay, Matty. I’m with you.”
They tried to make this floor festive: the doctors and nurses are wearing purples and pinks and funky sneakers; there are stripes on the floors and murals on the walls. But they can’t disguise the smell. The disinfectant in a hospital is like no other. They must all buy it from the same company.
The woman who opens Priya’s door is clearly her mother. She has the same bright eyes and sharp cheekbones, the same arched eyebrows and dimpled upper lip, even the same diamond stud in her nose. But what she doesn’t have is Priya’s narrow frame. This woman is heavier by about forty pounds, what I imagine Priya will look like when she’s middle-aged.
“May I help you?” she asks, not unkindly, but I can tell she’d have no problem kicking us to the curb if we don’t provide the right answer.
“I’m, um, a, um, friend of Priya’s,” I say. “Matty, um, Matthew Jones.”
Emily hurriedly introduces herself with a handshake. “Emily Aoki.”
Priya’s mother cocks her head to one side and considers us. “Priya knows you?”
“Um, she was um, staying? Yeah, she was staying in the field next to my house. I, um, I found this there.” I pull out the ID bracelet and hand it to her. Realization dawns on her face and she nods, finally.
“I’m Priya’s mother, Dr. Anisha Shah.”
I wait, but no invitation seems to be forthcoming. “So, um, can I see her?” I ask. “Just to say hi. And bye,” I add quickly.
“Her father is in with her now,” she replies.
I look over at Emily, who encourages me with a bob of her head. “We won’t stay long, Dr. Shah, but since we drove all this way, could we spend a minute or two with her?”
As Dr. Shah inspects each of us for an ulterior motive, my brain is fighting to wrap itself around this new reality of Priya Shah and whatever it was I saw over the past few days. Why would a person run away from a hospital and pretend to be an alien waiting for a ride back to her planet?
I just don’t get it.
Eventually, Dr. Shah steps aside and lets us into Priya’s room. My breath catches when I see her lying there, white sheet up to her armpits, her wig gone. Wispy black strands of hair swirl around her head like cotton candy. Beside her in a chair is her father, dressed in a shirt and tie and shiny brown loafers, both elbows on her bed. He barely glances at us when we walk in.
“Priya, love, your friends are here,” Dr. Shah says. Her eyes well up and she wipes away a tear with the tip of one finger.
While I approach the bed, I hear Emily say quietly, “Matty was really worried about her, Dr. Shah. He took care of her, you know, while she was in the field and I know he made sure she had food and a place to sleep. He’s a really good guy. . . .”
If there is more, I don’t hear it. I focus all my attention on Priya, whose eyes are still closed.
“Rohan Shah,” her father says to me, holding out his hand.
“Matty Jones,” I say, trying to be Mr. Respectable when all I want to do is swallow Priya up whole.
“Thank you for watching over her.”
“Well, I didn’t really, you know, uh, no problem,” I babble stupidly.
Her father gently shakes her awake.
“Hmmm?”
“Hi, Priya,” I say, and she sees me then. For a brief, tense moment I wonder if she is still angry with me, but then her face splits into a huge grin.
“Matthew!”
I hear Dr. Shah sigh, relieved I am who I say I am.
“Priya, I’m so . . . I can’t . . .” I lean closer to Priya but I can’t touch her, can’t kiss her—not with her parents and Emily here. My heart skips when I see the C-shaped scar on the side of her head. Oh god, how did I not know?
“I didn’t want to leave you,” she says. “I’m sorry.”
“No, I’m sorry. I got . . . distracted.”
Behind me I hear Emily ask a question of Priya’s parents, drawing them aside so I can talk with Priya on my own. I thank her silently.
“How is my dog?” Priya asks. “Is she eating well?”
My dog . . . my heart skips. I wish I’d brought Ginger with me, although they never would have let me in with her. I nod up and down, reassuringly. “She’s great, really good.”
I think of the ID bracelet around the tripod. “She helped me find you.”
“She is a very smart dog. I was not allowed to bring her with me, although she tried to accompany me.”
“. . . anaplastic astrocytomas . . . ,” I hear Dr. Shah say in the silence.
Emily whispers another question and Priya’s mother replies, “Surgery and radiation . . .”
Priya pushes herself up on her elbows. “Thank you for retrieving me. I’m ready to return to the field.”
“Oh, um, I don’t think you can go.”
“What? Why not?”
“Because . . . well . . . you’re here now.”
“This is . . .” She blinks a few times, searching for the word. “Not a permanent state? What do I mean?”
“Temporary?”
“Yes. A temporary state. I can go now.”
“But—”
“Isn’t that why you came here? To bring me back to the field?”
“Well, no, I—”
Priya clutches at me. “Matthew, what will I do? How will I get home?” Her eyes narrow with worry and her lips quiver. I feel her cold fingers on my arm and I long to warm her up, to hold her in my arms and never let her go.
“Maybe you should stay here,” I suggest. “Just for a little while.”
“No, no. I need to go back to the field. You must bring me back there with you.”
I glance over my shoulder at Dr. Shah and Emily, still whispering. “It’s not that simple—”
“Yes, of course it is! It’s very simple!” She starts to sit up but collapses nearly instantly.
I don’t care if her parents are here, if Emily is watching. I wrap my arms around Priya and hold her; I feel her hands at my waist and her cheek against my neck. A sob grabs the back of my throat.
The look in her eyes, pleading. I know what it means. Help. She needs my help.
What are you going to do, Matty? Kidnap her?
My gaze sweeps the room. It feels empty, I notice, not like other hospital rooms, and I realize for the first time what’s missing: the hum of machines. It’s not like what you’d expect to see, what they show on TV and in movies. It’s more like a room at home, the walls painted a buttery yellow, real curtains over the window, and an actual lamp with a shade beside the bed.
Even if I managed to sneak her out from under her parents’ very sharp gaze, what would we gain? Another night in the middle of the field, waiting to be picked up by an alien rocket ship?
“Matthew, my head hurts,” she says suddenly, pushing me away. Her fingers grab her head and push against her skull. “I don’t want to stay here!” She flails at me, swinging her long arms.
I feel so useless. I just sit here, dumb, not understanding. I can’t help. I can’t do anything useful.
“Matthew, I think you should leave now,” Priya’s mother says as she and her husband move to subdue Priya. Although she flaps her arms and kicks at them, they don’t stop comforting her, don’t stop taking care of her. Her father coos to her, offering soothing words even as she resists him.
I’m watching a complete breakdown. The crazy-beautiful girl I love is falling apart in front of my eyes and I can’t help her.
Helpless. Useless. Why can’t I ever do anything?
For a split second, Priya and I lock eyes, and I see in hers . . . fear and accusation. I betrayed her. I abandoned her.
As she lifts her face toward the ceiling and lets out a horrific cry, I feel Emily slip her hand into mine. I grip it so tightly that I might break her fingers as she leads me out of the room.