Revived

forty-two

When I’m feeling better and looking less like Frankenstein, instead of taking me back to Omaha like I want him to, Mason flies with me to Washington State. That same day, he boards his second plane in a week bound for Washington, D.C. Even though God and Cassie are in custody, Mason wants me under a watchful eye until he’s sure it’s all over. Still jumping at shadows, I’m okay with being watched.

For two weeks, Mason checks in on the phone or through email every night, but he never says very much. I try to keep it light and enjoy my time with Megan, but I have questions that need to be answered before I can fully move on.

And there are things to say, too.

My second to last night in Seattle, I dial Matt. I’ve spoken to him twice since the accident, but both times it was too brief and stilted: Mason was in the room the first time, and Megan was hovering the second.

“Are you alone?” I ask. It’s late; Megan and her mom are sleeping.

“Yeah, just listening to some music,” he says. “How are you feeling?”

“Pretty good,” I say. “I’m back in regular clothes, and the scabs don’t itch as much. My tongue doesn’t feel like I pierced it anymore.”

“That’s good.”

“I still look like I got beat up.”

“At least you’re feeling better.”

I listen to Matt inhale and exhale; it makes me shiver.

“Listen, Matt,” I begin. “I want to say thank you.”

“You’re welcome… again,” he says with a little laugh.

“I’m serious,” I say. “I don’t know how I can ever thank you enough. You saved my life. I owe you—”

“Naw,” Matt interrupts gently. “We’re even.”

“For what?” I ask.

“For… you saving me, too,” he says.

“What do you mean?”

“I just don’t think I’d have gotten through Audrey’s death without knowing you were there for me. Even though we didn’t talk much, having you in my life… That was enough. It helped. It was huge. I know I’m never going to get over it completely—I wouldn’t want to—but now I feel like I can actually deal, and I owe that to you.”

We’re quiet for a few seconds. I think about how odd it is that after Audrey died, when I didn’t hear from Matt, I spent a lot of time wondering if he was slipping away. I didn’t know it, but he was holding on for dear life.

“I was about to tell you something right before everything happened in Hayes,” I say. “Right before you clicked over to the other line.”

“What’s that?” Matt asks in a low tone.

I take a deep breath and decide to go for it.

“I was going to say that I love you.”

I hear a quick exhale on the other end of the line.

“And if you had,” Matt says, strong and sexy, “I would have said that I love you, too.”

Two weeks and one day after Mason dropped me off, he’s back. He says we’re flying out the next day, back to Omaha. I bounce with excitement until he slams me back to earth.

“We’re being relocated again,” he reports.

“But why?” I ask. “God and Cassie are in custody. And I died in Texas. Everyone in Omaha thinks I’m out sick.”

“Not everyone,” Mason says, looking at me pointedly.

I stare at him, confused.

“The director is aware that Matt was the one who called nine-one-one,” Mason continues. “That someone you went to school with in Omaha knows you died.”

“But Matt knows I’m alive,” I protest. “He knows about the program,” I acknowledge aloud.

“I know that, but the director doesn’t,” Mason says.

“You lied?”

“Of course I lied,” Mason says. “I was protecting you.”

“But Mason, Revive didn’t even bring me back,” I say. “I can go back to school and tell everyone that I was miraculously saved by normal modern medicine after a bee attack. Everyone will be so impressed.”

“That’s the director’s fear,” Mason says.

“What?”

“That this will draw attention to you,” he clarifies. “That if you go back and say you were saved from a bee attack, the news will report on you. People will look into your background. There’s potential for exposure.”

I’m quiet, unsure what to say. Mason looks at me with tired eyes.

“Daisy, I know you don’t want to hear this, but it’s better this way.”

“What way?” I ask, anger rising in me.

“It’s better if we go quietly.”

“Better for who?” I ask, ready to burst. And then, with a few simple words, Mason changes everything.

“Matt,” he says. “It’s better for Matt.”