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FOUR

E ddie spins this way, that way, eyes frantic, searching for the boy. He takes a dozen steps uptown, then turns back downtown. But there’s no sign of him at all. No sign of anything that he’s just seen. Everyone who was here a moment ago—the crowd of boys, the glamorous woman, the scrum of reporters, the elevated train, the police wagon, Eddie’s scuffed black boots and frayed cap—all gone. Only the Jefferson Market building remains, surrounded by the same Sixth Avenue that was here before the vision, filled with taxicabs and zigzagging cyclists and harried modern-day pedestrians in maxi skirts and high-tops and ironic T-shirts, tapping on phones and sucking on vape pens. He hears a rap song from a car stereo, watches a delivery driver munch a handful of french fries, sees a flashing Don’t Walk signal reflected in a pool of motor oil in the asphalt.

He closes his eyes to try to reconjure the vision, to return to the fantasy. It should be easy enough. He’s been woken from dreams before—called on in class, summoned by his boss at Sunset Ridge—but he’s always been able to get back when he’s wanted to. This time is different, though. This time it doesn’t work. He strains, focusing his mind, willing the vision, his vision, to return. But it doesn’t. It won’t. It stands at a distance, separate from him, unreachable. He concentrates harder. Still nothing.

His stomach churns, a mash of confusion and anxiety. He can’t do the one thing he’s always been able to do, to find his way back inside, to return to the fantasy world. Where is his power? Where is his imagination? Why isn’t it working the way it’s supposed to?

Unmoored, he shuffles slowly over to the curb. Uptown, he sees the towers of Midtown, all shiny glass and steel. Downtown, the soaring Freedom Tower, jabbing the sky with its spire. Everything looks so crisp in the sun, so sharp and defined. So real. The vision, the moment, is over. Nothing left but the tower of the Jefferson Market Courthouse. Or, Library. Whatever it is.

He exhales, feeling a stealthy exhaustion creep up from his sneakers. How is he suddenly so tired? He slumps down to the edge of the curb and sits, hanging his head between his knees.

Sit here for a minute, Eddie, to return to yourself. Just for a minute. That’s all it will take. A minute, no more.