The Meanings of Lost

Chapter 15

Diana:

Ambrosine and I sit by Steve's bedside. She reads her book, uninterested, while I watch his very breath. I watch the screens that tell me he's normal, that he is okay even though he is not conscious. But it's hard to watch.

"Can you stay here by yourself for a few moments?" I ask Ambrosine.

"Of course I can." She says. "I'm old enough and strong enough. Will I? Now that's the question." The "can" error is her favourite grammar mistake to point out. It drives people nuts when they ask if she can do something, she says yes, but doesn't do it. 

"Will you stay here?" I ask.

"Yes," she replies, absorbed in her book.

"Good." I turn and leave to find the bathroom. It's not hard to find, being just a few doors down from the rooms Steve and the other man are. 

I close the door, lock it and fall to my knees. I press a hand to my mouth attempting in vain to stifle the sobs that begin to rush over me. It's amazing I had stayed composed for so long. The tiles dig into my knees, but I care not as I soak my hands in my tears.

Someone knocks on the door.

"Diana!" Ambrosine wails.

I walk over to the sink and splash water on my face. "Just a moment."  She doesn't need to see me like this.

Her fists pound against the door. "DIANA!" She shrieks. "DIANA!" She pounds on the door, synchronized with the beating of my heart. I leap over and unlock the latch then open the wall between us. What could possibly be wrong?

She collides with me then runs around behind me, holding onto my waist for dear life. Her grip so tight I can barely breathe. Her whole, small figure shakes violently against me. I look to see Steve hovering above us, ten feet tall.

"Diana, look out!" The other man shouts from behind, but he is too late. In one foul blow, Ambrosine disappeared into thin air.

I awake with a start, digging my figures into the plastic armrests of the waiting room seats. I flinch as plastic splinters crawl underneath my skin. Ambrosine, where is she? I wipe my hair out of my face and frantically look around the room for her. My gut is as heavy as a bowling ball, but the feeling fades when I see her sitting in a window reading in the early morning light. Calm, collected. The light illuminates her hair she pushes behind an ear. 

She's okay. I take a deep breath. She's okay.

She looks over. "Diana?" She asks softly. "You feeling alright?" She walks over and sits beside me. Her eyes drift to the armrests that have my fingerprints engraved on them. She ignores it. 

"I'm fine," I tell her. She shakes her head, not believing me. She reaches out and hugs me tight. I clench my fist and raise my hand above me in fear, but as she stays there I slowly begin to relax and soon find myself giving her a hug back. She's alright. I feel myself relax.

"You are a terrible liar." She tells me. 

If only she knew all the secrets I keep on a daily basis. "I am not," I argue. 

"False face must hide what false heart doth know." She quotes. "Hamlet."

"Isn't that from Macbeth?" I ask, quite sure that the quote did not come from Hamlet.

"Yes, good for you." She exclaims then pulls out of the hug. She studies my face with a frown then wipes a tear from my cheek. "There, now we've both been venerable in front of each other." I chuckle at her bluntness. "I guess we're getting along well." She sits up straight. 

"I guess we are. I'm sorry about last night."

"Yah what happened there? And don't try hiding stuff because you think I'll freak out. Aliens fall from the sky." Right.

"Well, um, the artifact glowed and bodies appeared." Well, that's the truth.

"That's it? I already knew that. You don't know anything else."

"No," I lie.

"You're a terrible liar Diana." She raises her eyebrow. "How about you tell me what you know about the people and I will promise not to try and figure out your secrets. And if my brain does it by accident I won't say a word."

"Okay fine." I pause and take a breath. "The guy in the pilot uniform. I, um, know, knew him." I stammer. 

Realization dawns on her face. Her jaw drops as her hand raises to cover it in a slow, fluid motion. "Oh, Diana." She pauses. "Wait so it's like reincarnation magic? And if so why him and the other guy? Do you know the other guy?"

"No, I've never seen him before and no, I do not think it is reincarnation magic."

"Why?"

"I think that would be revealing part of my secret," I tell her. She nods acceptingly. then her watch beeps.

"It's nine." Yes, right, we still have a schedule! It totally slipped my mind. "We don't have to leave though. I don't think it would kill anyone if I was absent just once, but I mean it hasn't ever happened before and Murphy's Law: What can happen will happen. Someone could die because I wasn't there to do whatever that might prevent it."

"You've seriously never been late before? To anything?"

"Unless you count the fact that I sat in the bathroom longer than I should have at my mother's funeral, no I haven't. I was in the building though and I did actually show up and was off less than ten minutes."

"We won't count that." I decide. "Let's not break your perfect record."

"You absolutely sure you want to leave?"

"Do you not want to go?" I challenge.

"I want to!" She leaps up and grabs both our coats. "But we stop at your place first right? So I can shower quickly as to not smell like hospital and sweat?"

"Yes, we can, if you hurry." It's fun to tease her. She's bubbly and doesn't take it personally. I've noticed she tends to treat it as a game of whits. I often lose, but I enjoy the battle. Would that have made me a bad parent? I say a silent prayer to the gods that this will end well.