Owen shakes his head. "We all end up Elsewhere eventually."
"I only meant, it seems sort of small. Everybody couldn't possibly fit here, could they?"
"Elsewhere is actually very large; it only depends on your perspective." He takes Liz's hand and flips it over so her palm faces up. "It's an island really," he says. With his finger, he lightly draws a map of Elsewhere on her hand. "This is where the boats come in," he says, "and over here is the River back to Earth. I don't know if you know this, but the River is actually in the middle of the ocean. The ocean only parts once a day to allow the babies back to Earth." Owen draws the squiggly line of the River over the blue veins in Liz's wrist. He traces over to where her thumb is.
"And this is the Well, where we first met."
Liz stares at her palm. She can still feel where Owen had drawn the invisible borders. Suddenly, she closes her palm and the whole world is erased.
"Emily is coming here," Liz says.
"She's dead?" Owen says this in a measured, solemn tone.
"Thandi saw her name on the arrivals list. She'll be here tomorrow."
Owen shakes his head. "I can't believe it."
"So what are you going to do?" Liz asks, her voice practically a whisper.
"I'm going to meet her at the pier," Owen replies.
"After that?"
"I'm going to take her to my house."
"So you think she'll probably stay with you, then?"
"Liz, of course she'll stay with me."
"What about us?" Liz whispers.
Owen doesn't answer her for the longest time. Finally, he says, "I do love you, but I met her first."
He places his hand on top of hers. "I'm not sure what to do, what's right."
Liz looks at Owen. He seems truly miserable, and Liz doesn't want to be the cause of that misery.
She removes her hand from under his. When she speaks, it is in a strong, very adult voice. "The truth is, Owen," Liz says, "we've only just met. You have a responsibility to your wife." Liz waits to see what Owen will say.
"I don't want to lose our friendship," he says.
"We'll still be friends," Liz says. She's disappointed he came around to her reasoning that quickly.
"Oh, Liz, you're the best!" Owen embraces her again. "Emily's a great girl. I think you'll really like her."
Later that night, curled up in bed next to Sadie, Liz wonders how someone could claim to love a person one minute and not love her the next.
Of course, Liz is rather inexperienced in such matters. As many have discovered, it is entirely possible (though not particularly desirable) to love two people with all your heart. It is entirely possible to long for two lives, to feel that one life can't come close to containing it all.
************************************
The ship arrives at sunset. Owen wonders if Emily will recognize him. After all, it has been nearly ten years since they last saw each other. He notices that other people on the pier are carrying handmade cardboard signs with people's names written on them. Maybe he should have made one of those, too?
Emily is the second person off the ship. Even from five hundred yards away, the distance from Owen's position on the pier to the ship's gangplank, Owen can tell that it is her. The sight of her distinctive red hair makes Owen want to sing. She must be thirty-six now, but to him, she looks exactly the same as when he died.
Upon spotting Owen, Emily smiles and waves. "Owen," she calls.
"Emily!" Owen pushes through the crowd.
As soon as they reach each other, Owen and Emily embrace and kiss. It feels like a movie to Owen. He has waited so long for her, and now she is here.
"Did you miss me?" Emily asks.
"Oh, just a little," he says.
Emily holds Owen at arm's length, looking him up and down. "You look good," she pronounces.
"You don't look so bad yourself," Owen says.
Emily pushes Owen's hair back behind his ears. "You look young," she says, furrowing her brow.
She looks around the pier. "Are we all young here?"
"Eventually, yes," Owen replies.
"What do you mean 'eventually'?" Emily asks.
Owen smiles. "Don't worry," he says, "it all works out in the end. I'll explain everything." Owen takes Emily's hand. As he leads her out to the parking lot, he feels that the sad times are behind him, once and for all.
In the car, Emily asks, "So how does this work? Do I stay with you?"
"Of course you do," Owen answers. "You're my wife."
"Am I? Still?"
"Of course you are." Owen laughs. "Who else would you be?"
"But what about 'till death do us part' and all of that?" she asks.
"I've always thought of us as married," Owen says, "and now we aren't parted anymore."
Emily nods but doesn't say anything.
"Haven't you always thought of us as married?" Owen asks.
"In a way, I suppose I have," Emily says. "Yes."
"Have I told you how happy I am to see you?" Owen asks.
That night in bed, Owen says to Emily, "Is it wrong that I love the flu? Is it wrong that I want to sing songs in praise of the flu?"
"I'm glad my death brings out the troubadour in you. But I am dead here, you know. A little gravity is in order." Emily laughs and says, "The flu. What an entirely stupid way for me to go." And then she sneezes. "Hey, I thought there wasn't any sickness here," she says.
"There isn't," Owen says.
And then she sneezes again. And Owen remembers that she is allergic to dogs. (He had decided to leave Jen with Liz for Emily's first night in town he had suspected that he and Emily might want to be alone.) "The thing is . . ." Owen begins. "Well, I have this dog. I know you used to be allergic, but "
Emily interrupts him. "Maybe I'm not allergic anymore? I mean, maybe I'm not allergic here."
Owen is doubtful. "Maybe."
"Maybe I'm just sneezing because I'm still recovering from the flu. Is that even possible?"
Owen doesn't think this is possible, but he chooses not to say so. "Maybe."
The next day, while Emily is at her acclimation appointment, Owen brings Jen back home. Even though Jen's loyalties are with Liz, Jen is also a pragmatist. She knows it is important to make a good first impression with Emily. In her experience, very few people can resist a wagging tail, and the moment Emily walks through the door, Jen begins wagging her tail furiously. "Hello, Emily. I'm Owen's dog, Jen. Pleased to meet you."
"Hello, Jen," Emily says.
Jen holds out a paw for Emily to shake, and Emily sneezes on it.
"Gross," Jen says and then thinks better of it. "Gesundheit."
"Thank you," Emily says. And then, "Owen, is it strange that your dog is talking?"
"Terrific, Emily, you understand Canine!" Owen says. "I don't myself, but I wish I did. Some people are naturals, like" he pauses "my friend Liz."
Emily sneezes again.
"Are you allergic to dogs?" Jen asks.
"I used to be, on Earth," Emily concedes, "but I don't think I am here, right?"
Jen looks doubtful.
Emily continues, "I probably just think I'm allergic because I was before. Maybe it's psychosomatic?" Emily sneezes.
"What's 'psychosomatic'?" Jen asks worriedly.
"It means, it's all in my head. So eventually, I'll stop being allergic to you, I'm sure."
"Do you think?" Jen cocks her head.
"Um, maybe." Emily sneezes again. "Let's hope so."
But the next morning, Emily's eyes are swollen and red, and she is sneezing and coughing nonstop. Despite her allergies, Emily still acts as translator between Jen and Owen.
"Look, Owen," Jen says, "I don't want to live with a person who's constantly sneezing when I'm around." She lowers her tail pathetically. "It makes me feel unwelcome."