Next of Kin Read Online Free PDF Page A

because I recognized that broken expression every time I looked in a mirror.
    I looked down at my belt, at my keys clipped securely to my lanyard, and I saw myself in Merrill’s room. In Merrill’s life. Who would visit me when I finally lost it all? Who would help me pick up all the pieces of my shattered mind and console me when it snowed and I remembered some distant, unshoveled sidewalk? Who would knock on my door and call himself my friend?
    Rosie had spoken to me in the grocery store. She saw me once, for half a second, and she remembered and she looked for me and she found me again, weeks later, and she offered to help.
    The restroom opened, and Merrill came out, and I knew that I was already gone from his memory. I could walk out the door right in front of him and he wouldn’t even know he’d been left. I looked at the boy, but he was already looking away, staring at the wall. I stood and turned toward Merrill.
    “All set?”
    “Well, look who’s here,” he said brightly, his standard phrase when he reacted to someone who obviously knew him, to hide the fact that he didn’t know them back.
    I held out his coat. “You still want to go for a walk?”
    “I can’t go for a walk. Have you seen the snow outside?”
    “There’s certainly a lot of it.”
    He stared out the front door, deeply concerned about something. “Who do you think shovels all that stuff?”
    “They have a man they pay to do it,” I said, taking him by the elbow. I have touched so few people in my life, almost none of them living. I pulled my hand away with a sudden rush of guilt.
    “Do I live here?” he asked softly.
    “You do. Would you like to go back to your room?”
    “Do you know the way there?”
    “I do.” I gestured toward the elevator, and we started walking.
    It was the least I could do.



Part Eight
    Rosie’s grief counseling meeting was held in a community center, in a suburb outside of the city. The room was used for all kinds of different activities, I guessed, looking at the posters and the bookshelves and the ill-cleaned tables from a pottery class. There were five people there, sitting on folding chairs in a loose circle in the center of the floor. They all looked up when I peeked in, and Rosie’s eyes lit up when she saw me. My heart swelled in response, but I stayed quiet and moved slowly. I wasn’t here to talk to her, but to stay nearby in case the Gifted came looking for trouble. Were they likely to? Not here, I knew, not this far from everything, but where else could I protect her? It was the least I could do.
    I thought about the boy from the rest home, and I knew I could do more. Was it worth it, making connections with people only to have them disappear? I had to make sure Rosie didn’t disappear.
    “Come in,” said Rosie, beckoning with her hand, and I opened the door wider. She stood and pulled another chair into the circle, and I hesitated a moment longer in the doorway. It would be best if I left now and cut off all of my communication with Rosie. I could protect her just as well from the shadows, waiting outside and following her home, but then she took a step toward me, just a single step, and I couldn’t help myself. I walked into the room. She gestured to the chair, and I sat in it gingerly, as if expecting at any moment for the room to erupt in chaos and terror and death.
    All was still.
    “Welcome to our group,” she said, smiling softly. “My name is Rose. Would you like to introduce yourself?”
    I almost said Billy—it was on the tip of my tongue—but I caught myself. I knew I should leave, but I took a slow breath. “Elijah,” I said. “Elijah Sexton.”
    “Hello, Elijah,” said Rosie. “Thank you for coming today. This is a very open group; most of what we do is just talk, and we’ve all gone through some of the same hard experiences, so you’ll find us to be a pretty understanding audience. You told me before that you’d lost someone. Would you like to talk about