Chapter 31
Fear, determination, passion, grief.
My elixir of emotions is potent as I stand in the portal once more. If I had a chalice, my feelings would swirl, slosh up onto the rim. I think of Indiana Jones and the Holy Grail, that cup full of mighty power.
Yes.
I could use some of that. Please?
Instead, I peer down at the neon ball in my hands.
By now, it’s looking tired and worn. If this were a pickleball tournament, I’d be trading her out.
Dead, done. Cracked. Time for retirement.
Flaking with plastic and miles and years, airplanes and vans and apartments.
I’ve never once lost it, I realize, congratulating myself.
Even when I have feared I might lose myself, this pink ball has been my constant.
Returned me here, repeatedly. To wherever I need to go next.
I cup it in a small show of thanks. Maybe I’m holding all the power I need.
The angel is so quiet, I worry briefly that she is no longer here. My gaze ticks around the room.
But of course, she’s here. Waiting in the far corner. Tumbling hair the color of embers. Features milky as snow. Her robe flows around her like liquid, glimmering in the twinkle lights. I almost want to ask her for a Turkish delight.
Four balloons left.
But only one that matters.
“Are you okay?” she asks me for the first time in this experience, floating my way. “You look—”
“Somber?” I say.
“I was going to say uncertain.”
For once, she’s wrong. I’ve never been more certain of anything. And this might be my last chance to prove it.
I shake my head with resolve. “I’m actually sure—one hundred percent—about what I want to do next.”
And hopefully last.
“So, it was a good decision, after all?” she queries. “Going to see your grandmother?”
“The best.” I’m caught off guard by my tears.
I miss her already. My mom, too. The women who made me.
That sanctified feeling of family—from them and the one I have built.
Crowded and messy and pressing up into my personal space.
Hovering, needing, and taking. Loving, knowing, and holding.
Stealing my time. Stealing my heart. But giving me everything, multiples more than they could ever subtract if they tried.
Here I stand, and I’m all alone.
Except for the angel, of course.
She holds out the golden spear. She’s already standing under the Statue of Liberty. Coaxing me to go meet her, I can’t help but think.
I walk to them both.
“I’ve learned a lot,” I say. “I came here desperately wanting my youth again—to be young and happy and free. I’ve experienced all of that.
I know I’ll never be the same. But through all of this, I’ve identified what I want.
And that is to return to my life.” I pause and imagine New York. “If I find Reid, will I go back?”
She smiles. “I can’t tell you that. But as long as you’re still here, you’re not done with the journey.”
I ball my fists, temperature rising. “Can’t you give me anything—the slightest hint?
Or even better, just send me home? I’ve been twenty-one, and twenty-seven, and twenty-six, and twenty, and—haven’t I proven myself?
What else do I need to do? I could really use some guidance here. Aren’t you my guide?”
“I told you,” she says, unbudging. “If you transform, you can return.”
“What does that mean, though?” I cry. “I have transformed. I know it. You know it. I’ve been given a new perspective that can’t possibly make me return as the same woman I was. And I want what I have—exactly what I already have.”
I avert my eyes from the angel and bare them to the light above.
“What more do you want from me?”
The angel tilts her head sympathetically. “I’m so sorry, Sutton. I don’t get to decide when and if you can return to your previous life.”
“What if I’m never ready?” I ask, both desperate and frightened to know the answer. “What if this whole experience never deems me worthy to have my family again?”
She’s wordless for a long beat. “It’s not about worthiness. It’s about change. And seeing this all the way through.”
“But there’s no guarantee,” I confirm, no question in my tone. “No promise I’ll get them back. My family does not live and breathe right now.”
She sighs. “That’s correct. Whatever you had before does not exist as it was, as long as you’re here.
So you will remain, going through these motions, over and over.
Once you make it through all the balloons, they’ll reappear, inflated all over again.
Of course, you can choose to stay in any of the years permanently, as long as you want, and let that version of things play out. You might find you’ll love it.”
“No.” I’m whimpering. “No.”
I want my family.
I want my life.
I’m starting to shake, my fury spiking.
“I’m beginning to think you’ve sent me on some kind of fool’s errand,” I spit. “That this is all just a crock. Or some kind of really cruel joke.”
Instead of responding with anger, the angel’s lips purse with compassion. “I want the very best for you, Sutton. Like I told you the first time we met, I’m here to help you.”
“Yeah, right,” I scoff.
I seize the opalescent grip from her, analyzing the golden spear for what I pray might be the last time. I flip it to look at the base of the handle. On the flat end, like the logoed cap of a tennis racquet, I see the initials S. L. embossed in silver.
Sutton Layne.
Sutton Lancaster.
Which?
Either?
Both?
“My initials,” I growl. “Sutton Lancaster or Sutton Layne?”
In the end, which one am I?
I should’ve expected her reply.
“That’s for you to decide,” she says.
I’ve never left the portal angry before.
“Whatever,” I say. “Get me out of here.”
I drag in air to the fullest of my capacity, until my lungs themselves are balloons.
I pace the short distance to Lady Liberty, sizzling in my panic and desperation. She seems my only remaining hope.
Snap.
Crackle.
Pop.