Page 49 of The Light Between Worlds

“I didn’t think. I’m sorry.”

It’s strange, listening to Jamie’s disembodied voice without being able to see him in front of me. The connection gives an odd quality to his words, a static sort of tension. We’re quiet for a while, listening to the snap and pop on the line. This is going to be a terribly expensive call.

That’s what I’ll focus on—the expense, and Professor Allard waiting outside. I won’t think of anything else.

“It’s Evelyn,” Jamie finally says.

“Of course it is.” I open one of Professor A’s drawers and peer inside, but there’s only stationery. I was hoping for something worth gossiping about.

“She’s gone.”

Oh, Evelyn. “How long has it been?”

The second drawer is pencils. There must be a hundred of them. Who on earth needs so many pencils? And sharpened already. Professor A really ought to find herself a hobby.

I won’t think of Ev, even though I’m speaking of her. I won’t fallto pieces in this strange woman’s office. I won’t, I won’t.

“She’s been gone two days. I’m not saying you should come home or anything like that, I just wanted you to know.”

No, you wouldn’t say I should come home, Jamie. You never come right out and say things, you just expect them. I think I’d be three feet taller if it wasn’t for all your expectations weighing me down.

The third drawer yields a flask of whiskey. Hardly scandalous, but welcome nevertheless. I take a quick nip and pull a face. I’m not sure if it’s too late or too early for alcohol, but it’s definitely too something. “I’ll need a day or two to make arrangements, but I can be back by week’s end.”

A pause again. Jamie will be paying through the nose for all these brooding silences. “You don’t have to do that, Phil.”

I roll my eyes, and hope he can somehow hear it through the line. “That’s absurd. We both know I do, so don’t be coy. I won’t need a welcome or anything—I’ll take a cab once the plane lands. Expect me by Friday.”

He doesn’t hang up. Good gracious, Jamie, are you made of money? “I’ll phone again if there’s any news. If we find out she just went ho—if she was called.”

But if she wasn’t—heat spreads across the back of my neck and I breathe, and breathe, past the guilt that’s turned to nausea. When it subsides, I cling to the bitter hope my brother’s offered me, that Ev is in the Great Wood after all. That in spite of Cervus telling us our days there were done, in spite of how the time slip ensured we weren’t missing for more than a moment before, it may turn out she’s alright.

We can’t consider the alternative.Ican’t consider it. Not yet. Ev and I have put each other through all nine levels of hell, but she’s my sister, and I’ve only ever been able to wish good things for her.

I return the flask to its place and lean my head against the back of Professor A’s chair. I’m bone tired. We had a late night in town and classes start early. I already know I’ll keep up my attendance until the plane leaves, just to be busy.

“Can I say good night, Jamie?”

“Yes, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have kept you so long. Good night, Philippa.”

I pause, playing his game, before asking, “Can you manage until I get there?”

Jamie sighs into the phone, and if I can hear the way he’s surely nodding his head, he must have heard the way I rolled my eyes before. “Yes. I can hold down the fort for now. Go get some sleep.”

I hang up, and it’s like he was in the room with me and just walked out the door. I’ll never let anyone know how much I’ve missed him these last months, overbearing and self-righteous prig that he is.

A gentle tap sounds at the door. Professor A wants back into her office.

“Come in,” I call out, and she crosses the threshold. I sit in her chair and watch her stand uncertainly before me, as if I’m the one who owns this space. Perhaps for the moment, I do. All I know is I’ve carved out a place in our worlds by learning to look as if I own the ground I stand on.

“Bad news?” Professor A twists her hands in front of her and I don’t relinquish the chair—not yet.

“My younger sister’s gone missing.” I say the words right now, in this moment, but I’ve been dreading its coming for years.

Professor A’s anxiety intensifies. “Is there anything I can do?”

My mouth quirks up in a humorless and involuntary smile—another trick that I learned worlds ago as a means of self-defense, to hide how very lost I felt. “No. If there was, I’d have done it myself. I’m flying home on Thursday, and I won’t be back.”

Professor A says something meek and contradictory, but I know now that America and college, much as I’ve liked them, were only ever where I came to wait for this to happen.