“There’s one more chance. The second surge, remember? When I undo what I did and restore power, there’ll be another surge. We can—we can hope this one will put it over. She might have some charge left over from the first one. That could help.”

“Okay,” August says. “Okay, when’s the next surge?”

“Give me a couple of minutes. I’m passing the phone to Niko. Just—just talk to her.”

August shoves her phone back into her front pocket and looks down at Jane. Without power coursing through the line, she—well, she doesn’t look good. All the color has drained from her face. No more summer glow. Even her eyes seem flat. It’s the first time August has looked at her and actually seen a ghost.

“Hey,” August calls down to her. “You’re okay.”

Jane holds a hand in front of her face, examining her own fingers. “I don’t know about that.”

“You heard Myla, right?” August demands. “We have another chance.”

“Yeah,” Jane says vaguely. “It … it doesn’t feel good. I feel weird.”

“Hey. Hey, look at me. You’re getting out of here tonight, one way or another. I don’t care what it takes, okay?”

“August—” she says. And August can see it in her eyes, a dullness that has nothing to do with electricity. She’s losing hope.

“Jane,” August shouts, pulling herself to her feet. “Don’t you dare fucking give up, do you hear me? You know how your emotions affect the line, right? What you feel, right now, it’s holding onto that charge. It’s what’s keeping you alive. Don’t let that go. You remember when we got in that fight, and you blew out a light? You remember when you stopped the whole train just because—because you wanted to get laid—” Despite herself, Jane’s face splits into a smile, she laughs weakly. “Come on. Jane, that was all you. You have power here too.”

“Okay,” she says. She closes her eyes, and when she speaks again, it’s to herself. “Okay. I’m gonna live. I want to live.”

“Almost ready,” says Niko’s voice from August’s pocket.

And August—August thinks about what she just said.

The nerves in Jane’s body, electrical impulses, feedback loops, a scarf, an orange, hands brushing into sparks. What Jane feels. What August makes her feel. The love of my life.

She pushes herself off the platform.

Jane’s eyes snap open at the sound of August’s feet landing on the tracks.

“Whoa, whoa, what are you doing?”

“What’s the one thing that’s worked?” August says. She crosses the first two rails, balancing on the tracks. One wrong step, and she’ll be crashing down to the street. “This whole time, Jane. What’s the one thing that made this all happen?”

She sees the moment when Jane realizes what she means—her eyes go wide, frightened, furious.

“No,” she says.

“Ten seconds,” Niko says.

“Come on,” August says. She’s inches away. “I’m right. You know I’m right.”

“August, don’t—”

“Jane—”

“Please—”

“What is it, Jane? What’s the one thing that could put it over?”

And here they are. August and Jane and the third rail and the thing she’s prepared to do, and Jane is looking at August like she’s breaking her heart.

“It’s you,” Jane says.

“Now,” says Niko’s voice, and August doesn’t think, doesn’t breathe, doesn’t hesitate. She slams her foot down on Jane’s to hold it to the rail, and she grabs Jane’s face in both hands, and she kisses her as hard as she can.

16

 

Letter from Augie Landry to Suzette Landry

Postmarked from a P.O. Box in Metairie, LA

 

4/28/73

Hi Suzie,

How have you been? I’m so sorry I haven’t had a chance to stop by the house. I got the birthday card you sent—thank you so much!!! I loved the picture you drew me. What kind of bird is that?

I’m doing really well! I have a good job and my coworkers are like family. Not as much as you are my family, but it’s nice. Sometimes when my customers talk about their kids, I tell them about you. They all agree you’re the smartest kid they’ve ever heard of. Don’t forget what I told you: don’t listen to Mom and Dad, go to the library and read whatever books you want.

I think you’d really like my roommate. She’s smart and funny, just like you, and she doesn’t take any crap from anyone. Maybe one day I’ll introduce y’all.

I’m so proud of you, Suzie. I’m sorry I can’t be home. I think about you every day, and I miss you so much. When you’re older, I’ll tell you everything, and I hope you’ll understand. Knowing you, I think you will.

All my love,

Augie

There’s a moment, in between.

August wakes up on the trash couch in the living room, surrounded by a swampy fog of burning sage and lavender, ears ringing, whole body sore. Jane’s jacket is draped over her like a blanket.

She can remember the tracks, the look on Jane’s face, something white-hot flashing through her. And then she wakes up.

But there’s a moment in between.

Myla touches her hair gently and says that Wes and Isaiah got to the station first and found her on the platform. At the end of the couch, Wes hugs his knees to his chest. He’s got a black eye—apparently August didn’t want to go without Jane. Apparently, she fought.

They brought her back here, and as soon as Niko and Myla could leave the party, they caught the Q home. It was running again. They didn’t see Jane.

She’s gone. She was gone by the time Wes and Isaiah got to the station.

But there was a moment. Right after August kissed her.

It didn’t hurt, somehow. It was a heat that blazed through her, wrapping around, like standing on wet, hot asphalt on a hundred-degree day and feeling a breeze whip the warmth from the ground around her legs. Her eyes were squeezed shut, but for a moment, before everything went black, she saw something.

She saw a street corner. Boxy brown cars parked along the road. Graffiti on buildings that aren’t there anymore. She saw, for a second, like looking through the slats in the blinds before they flutter shut, Jane’s time. The place where Jane belongs.

And now August is here.

“It worked,” August says, half-hysterical, before she rolls over and throws up on the rug.

 

* * *

 

The thing about life without Jane is, it does go on.

There’s rent to pay, shifts to pick up. The dog needs to go outside. The MetroCard needs to be refilled. School starts, and August has to register for graduation and get fitted for a cap and gown. The Q shuts down for maintenance. They count the money they managed to raise—sixty grand. Forty away from saving Billy’s, but they’re working on it.

The city moves, trudges on, lights up and shouts and spits steam up through the grates the same as always. August lives here. That finally feels real all the time, even when nothing else does. This is the city where she got her heart broken. Nothing anchors a person to a place quite like that.