Page 34 of Our Last Resort

“You’re okay,” Gabriel says.

His hands, I realize, are clutched on either side of my head, holding me steady.

I open my eyes. It should comfort me, looking at Gabriel’s face. I know it so well. The scar on his chin, from a slippery floor and an ill-positioned table twenty-two years ago. The mole on his temple, which he didn’t get checked until we were both twenty-one, because that’s how long it took for us to get access to doctors. This face I defined in opposition to mine: Both my eyes the same brown, my hair darker than his, my nose more upturned. His normal jawline versus my very slight underbite. We’re not carbon copies, but we look alike enough—similar hair color, similar complexions, and, more convincingly, all the mannerisms that people who grew up together tend to share. The elocution, the way of standing, the gait.

For so many years, Gabriel’s face anchored me to the world, to myself. But I look into his eyes—one brown, one blue—and I’m falling.

That’s what it feels like. Like there’s no more chaise under me, no more ground beneath my feet. No more hotel, no more desert, no more world. Just a great big void, and me hurtling down it, body and mind.

“Lie down,” Gabriel says.

He guides me, lifts my feet onto the chaise. I raise my arms on each side of my face to open up my rib cage, but someone guides them back down. Something about blood circulation.

A crowd has gathered around us. Somewhere at the back of my mind, I’m embarrassed.

Lying down helps. The whooshing in my ears recedes. My chest rises and falls, up and down, a little too fast, but it’s doing its job. I smooth my T-shirt over my stomach. It’s drenched in sweat and my fingers are shaking, but at least I can move.

“Thank you,” I say.

I raise a hand to appease our worried onlookers.

“It’s just the heat,” I lie.

Through a half-open eye, I see Lazlo nod, then walk away. The crowd dissipates.

I sit up.

“You good?” Gabriel asks, still kneeling at my side.

“I’ll be fine.”

My breath has settled. Gabriel waits a couple of seconds before standing and returning to his own chaise.

I swallow. My heartbeat slows.

Something tugs at the corner of my consciousness, but I can’t figure out what it is. There’s Gabriel next to me, children in the pool, adults settling back into their activities. Nothing to report.

Unless—

I crane my neck.

There he is. Deputy Harris, standing at the edge of the pool area, gun hanging at his waist. Evidently, he didn’t miss a moment of my little scene.

When he sees that I’ve noticed him, he glances away.

13The Only Town We Knew, Hudson Valley

Eighteen Years Ago

Émile had a trip the following weekend.

That was my chance.

In the dorm, I waited for the right moment. We’d been in bed for a while. Everything was silent; no one was sneaking out. There was no time to second-guess myself. I sloughed off my blanket and stepped out of bed. Outside, I made my way to the main building, the one where Émile lived and worked.

All day, I’d run through the itinerary in my head: dorm, outside, office. It had seemed to me an impossible journey, full of peril, doomed to fail. But in reality, it all happened so quickly. There I stood, at Émile’s door.

I was prepared for it to be locked. I thought I’d have to search for a key, break in somehow. But I turned the knob, and the door opened. It just did.

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