Page 89 of The Journal of a Thousand Years
Stanley stepped off the viaduct rail.
Onlookers screamed. Gabe rushed forward.
My sheets of letterhead coalesced into a carpet of paper above Farringdon Street. It slid into place under the falling figure of Stanley. To my utter relief, the structure held. The spell I’d spoken into the stack before we left the house had strengthened every sheet even more. They held both the Petersons’ magic and mine.
Under my direction, the paper carpet lowered Stanley gently to the ground.
Members of the crowd rushed in to assist him to his feet. Others stared at me, mouths agape, and several applauded.
I looked up to see Gabe, Alex, Willie and the onlookers on the viaduct peering over the railing. Applause sprinkled down from there, too. I received pats on the back and offers to shake my hand. I overheard someone say they didn’t know paper could be that strong. I was asked where I manufactured it, and I gave them the name of the Petersons’ factory.
I watched it all as if I was not a part of it, as if I was riding on the carpet of paper above the scene, observing. It wasn’t until one of the constables ordered me to clear the paper from the road that my mind refocused.
I spotted another constable arresting Stanley and forged my way to him. I reached him at the same time as Gabe.
Stanley sat on the pavement, his hands cuffed, his wide eyes staring at those closing in around him. Journalists peppered him with questions, despite the constable ordering them to leave. Photographers’ bulbs flashed like bursts of sunlight. One went off near Stanley’s face, snapping him out of his trance-like state.
“You saw,” Stanley told them. “You all saw. He didn’t save me.”
“Glass really is artless,” one of the journalists said as he scribbled notes. “I always thought so.”
“Pity,” another journalist chimed in. “It’s been a good story for my paper.”
“If that lady hadn’t been here…” said a third man with a shake of his head.
One of the journalists realized I was that lady. “Your name, Miss?”
I opened my arms as the papers came to rest on them in a neat pile. I finished chanting the spell once the last one floated into place. “I’d rather remain anonymous.”
Gabe appeared at my side, accompanied by Juan. He must have received a letter from Stanley, too. Alex asked the constables to give Stanley a few moments to speak to hisfriends. He then suggested they report the incident to Detective Inspector Bailey at Scotland Yard.
With space cleared around us, Gabe crouched before Stanley. “I know this is hard,” Gabe said. “But you’re not alone.”
Juan sat beside Stanley and put his arm around his friend’s shoulders. “We are here. Me, Gabe, and the others. Do not do that again.”
Stanley lowered his head further. “It wasn’t supposed to end this way. I’m not supposed to…”
“We know how it was supposed to end,” Juan said. “But we do not like that ending. It was good luck that Sylvia was here to rewrite it.” He gave Stanley’s shoulders a shake. “I know you are sad now, but you will not always be. You will get better.”
“We’ll get you the help you need,” Gabe added.
“No one can help.” Stanley didn’t snap or sneer. He sounded empty, as if exhaustion had drained every last drop of his essence. “I tried the medication they gave me, but I felt strange when I was on it, not like myself. I couldn’t think straight. It made me angry, resentful.”
“There are other medications,” Gabe said. “And if none work, we’ll try other methods. The way to treat shell shock may not exist yet, but new treatments are being trialed all the time. One of them will work for you, Stanley. Just as long as you don’t give up.”
Stanley peered at Gabe and Juan, then Alex. “It’s almost two years since the war ended, and everyone is moving on. Everyone except me. Iwantto move on…but I can’t.”
Gabe clutched Stanley’s arm. “Not giving up is the first step. It’s the hardest and most important. The other steps will come, in time. But no more stunts like this. Understand?”
“I had to do it. I had to make it up to you somehow.”
“Not like this.”
“What I did to you… You have every right to hate me.” His gaze shifted to Willie and Alex again, then fell on me. “You all do.”
I crouched down, too, and set the papers aside. I didn’t know what to say to make his pain go away, so I simply hugged him.
When I drew back, Alex did the same.
