In this scene: for the last two years, Paul has been gifted or cursed with enhanced senses, and tonight he’s hiding from his sister-in-law from the past he left behind. But to his shock, Lorraine shows signs of being overwhelmed with the same senses he has.

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“Ms. Schuman? Are you alright?”

“I… don’t know…” she said weakly, her voice sounding choked with hesitation. No—with fear.

Paul crouched down lower on the stairs. He had to move, had to help her, but one voice after another was stirring around her, closing in to watch. It couldn’t be, this can’t be happening…

His hearing focused beyond the others, and filled with Lorraine’s ragged breathing. He heard her say one word, the faintest, most fragile whisper.

“Paul?”

Good God, it’s impossible—She couldn’t have seen him, let alone… But what he’d heard was all too real. He stood up and glided down the stairs like moving in a dream.

The crowd was still mostly watching the video, bathed in the images from the pound and the room’s half-light. It took him a moment to pick out her shape behind one knot of figures. And somehow it’s my fault.

 

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When Paul got close, he reached right between the gathered onlookers to grip her shoulders and lean in next to her still-covered face. As softly as he could, hoping the faintness itself would draw her attention, he said “Let it go. Let it go… it’ll pass…”

“It… you…” she gasped.

“I’m here. Just let it go.”

It was all he could think to say, but through her shoulders he could feel her trembling ease. Her breath steadied, and she drew her hands down and looked back at him, shock still glittering in those blue eyes. Slowly she turned away.

Then, in an almost normal voice, she said to the others “I’m alright… I guess I need some air.” And she pulled herself up and started walking for the door.

Paul fell into step behind her, not glancing at the faces that followed them. Let them think the explanation is something simple. Something possible.

…

Lorraine walked steadily, except for a tiny falter in one step, when she stopped at her chair to grab her coat and purse. She didn’t say a word until they were outside.

“It’s so cold!” She shivered and hugged the coat to her, but didn’t put it on. Instead she turned around to him. “Paul… how did you…?” Her voice faded away.

“Keep your eyes moving when it starts. Back and forth, don’t focus on one thing. That should usually keep you from…” God, how can I put it into words… “being pulled in. Can you do that?”

“I…” She swung her head to one side, then another, more slowly. Then she turned and stared right at him. “But, how?”

Her words were still quiet, but they seemed to hang there in the cold air.

“I know what happened to you. Somehow, it happened to me two years ago. I’ll try to show you… how to handle it,” he added weakly.

I’ll try. Even though I’ve just destroyed your life. And Paul knew he still didn’t actually know much more than what he’d just told her about the power.

“I need your help,” she was saying, insistent.

“Right. I said I’d try.” As he watched her, his vision blurred. He began to understand how much he was risking. “But please realize, I haven’t seen Greg or Dad in years…”

A hopeless protest rose in him, for her not to tell her husband she’d seen him. But could I leave her to face what I’ve been through, alone?

His head was spinning. “Two years,” he said again weakly.

“Are you sure?” And she took a step toward him.

“What?” He shook his head, trying to clear it. Why was she looking at him so intently, as if all her doubts a minute ago had just been pushed aside? “I don’t think…” he began awkwardly. “I mean, I ran away from you all. I don’t think I can ever go back.”

“Paul!” Lorraine caught at his arm, and he barely jerked out of her reach. More gently, she said, “Paul. Greg asked me to go out tonight, but… he’s been in the hospital, for days. And someone broke into our home.”