Chapter 29
twenty-nine
“Cait. Look at me, Cait.”
I come to. Images flutter between reality and a painful blurred memory of before. My head and shoulders are cradled in Evan’s arms. His wide, worried eyes stare down at me.
I blink again. We’re on the ground, and there’s a white tent above us. It’s confusing. Someone’s pinching my wrist. Evan holds a cool towel over my forehead. There’s a chill under my armpit, between my legs? Ice?
I stir, trying to move.
“You need to drink some water.” A man offers a plastic cup but I push it away, and it spills across the back of my hand.
“Cait. Just do it. They need to get your body temperature down,” Evan says.
They think I have heatstroke. They don’t know. They don’t understand.
“I need to see. I need to see!” I fight Evan’s grasp to push myself up for a view over his shoulder. I need to see for myself that I’m safe, that everyone here is safe.
I blink several times, but there are only runners streaming past. The park, my park, is across the street, filled with cheering spectators. They’re smiling, waving signs, and blowing whistles. This is a far leap from what I saw, and very far from my horror-filled dreams.
As soon as I understand, relief washes over me. It was another panic attack. I slump back into Evan’s embrace. Sweat beads on my neck. Tears burst free at the fully formed memory. The pressure in my head releases.
“You’re okay. You’re okay.” Evan soothes me, rocking me gently. When I grasp his shirt between my fingers, he squeezes me tighter.
“We’ll take you to the ER,” the man says.
Through watery eyes, I notice the ambulance. Red and white lights flash silently. Gawkers surround us, but volunteers wearing neon shirts hold them back.
“No.” I shove him away and push myself to stand on wobbly knees. My entire body’s trembling, my lips quivering. I wipe my eyes. I stumble and steady myself by grabbing Evan, who’s jumped up too.
“Whoa, Cait.” His hands grip my shoulders. “Don’t be dumb. You passed out.”
“Evan, please, take me home. I’m fine.”
He can’t see me this way. I need to appear strong. I can’t help the thoughts when they come, though I know it’s too late. He’s seen the worst of me. I school my tremors and cross my arms. I’m decided.
Evan glances to the paramedic for backup, but I know I can refuse. I’ve done it before. I only need to sign some papers to be released.
We catch a taxi home. Evan pays, and we go inside. I’m eager to crash, drained from the encounter, my failure. I begin to climb the stairs, but he grabs my shirt, plucking the fabric taut. I pause and turn.
“Not so fast. If you refuse to see a doctor, I’m not letting you out of my sight. Someone needs to protect you from yourself.”
“Back to Dr. McDreamy?” I pout.
“Whatever it takes.” He crosses his arms.
I get the feeling he’ll throw me over his shoulder if he has to. Right now, I’m too weak to protest, and I’m not sure I want to be alone. In my recall, it’s the worst attack I’ve ever had. If I have another . . .
I begin to shake again. I nod with reluctance, and Evan leads me into his apartment.
“I’ll get you some clothes.” He pours me a glass of water and places it in front of me on the table, instructing me to drink. I hand over my keys. When he darts away, my phone chirps with a text. I remove it from my pocket and read.
Aggie
How many more miles until we celebrate? Lou’s antsy.
Attached is a photo of Lou perched high atop a monument. He’s grabbing a naked sculpture’s crotch. A police officer gestures at him from the ground. On any other day, this would cheer me. Instead, shaky fingers text her back.
Cait
Had an issue. Have fun without me.
Aggie
More shit?
Cait
Safe. At Evan’s.
Aggie
On my way.
Cait
No, I’m fine.
She doesn’t respond, which means she’ll do as she pleases.
I place the cell on the table. My head falls to the side. I haven’t touched my water.
Evan returns and places a few pairs of yoga pants, undies, bras, and my favorite shirt in front of me, along with a grocery bag filled with toiletries. I sift through the clothing he must have gathered from my clean laundry basket, noting there’s a lot here.
“How long am I staying?”
“Drink your water,” he demands and sits down with his own glass.
I take several gulps. Our silence settles and grows before fading into a buzz from the refrigerator. Evan hasn’t asked a single question about what happened, for which I’m thankful. Though I don’t want to, I’m focused on what I saw.
A chill runs through my body. I shiver and close my eyes. Seconds later, a blanket falls over my shoulders, and Evan’s strong hands rub my upper arms.
“My cape.” I touch my neck. The space where it was tied is empty.
“We took it off when you passed out. Do you want me to run back for it?”
I shake my head. More guilt, but Aggie will understand.
“Why don’t you clean up? A shower will make you feel better. I’ll get us some lunch. It’ll be good for you to load up on carbs.”
“Good idea.” My voice is monotone.
In a fog, I rise from the table and the blanket slips away.
My mind tumbles and lands on that nudging sensation.
It’s back. My memories dance along the edge of my mind, taunting me.
Torturing me. If I could reach out and tug them in my direction, they would unravel.
I’d be able to unfold them and read them like a book.
If I was alone, maybe I could concentrate and retrieve more.
When I’m aware again, I’ve already showered. I’m wearing fresh clothes and sitting on Evan’s bed. I don’t even understand how I got here, and my entire body feels numb. I’m holding a towel to my hair, patting it dry. Everything moves in slow motion.
The door eases open. Evan leans inside. “You okay?”
When I glance over, a worry crease forms between his brows.
“Just need some time.” Even my words are too slow. Too deep.
He wouldn’t understand, but when he closes the door, I focus on the blank wall before me. Images cross my mind in a daydream-like state. They’re a small collection, some I’ve had before now, but this is different. These images twirl, settling into the form of small stories that actually make sense.
I lie back on the bed and tug a pillow to my chest. In the pictures behind my eyes, I see a young me at a birthday party with Barbie dolls. Everything is pink, my favorite color at the time. I throw a tantrum when the party ends. I throw a doll across the room, for which I’m punished.
I open a window of the car speeding down a hilly country road.
The sweet scent of grapes wafts inside. I know we’re nearing my grandfather’s farm in Virginia.
When we arrive, I run through the vineyards, chasing the blackbirds.
Hand in hand, my grandmother and I explore the woods.
I find a small turtle in their yard. I take it home and make it my pet.
His name is Buster or Bubble, something that begins with a B.
I don’t know if these things happened in one day, but I know they happened.
It’s as though they’re in a folder labeled Grandparents.
The memories are small, but they’re something. More than I’ve ever had. I’m seeing them from the outside rather than living within them, like earlier today. Maybe by returning to the campus, it released something within me.
For now, I don’t want to remember the campus. I’ve seen enough in my dreams previously to understand that what made sense was real. By my count, I’ve dreamed of that park dozens of times. I hoped I was becoming indifferent to the images, but how can I when something so horrible happened?
I roll to the side and tug my legs near my chest, focusing on the positive. More images from my early years flash. My parents are the same, controlling with an insatiable need for me to succeed. This is why I am the way I am, strict with rules and unwilling to lose.
I watch and learn, and when it’s too much to take, I close my eyes and sleep, finding them in my dreams as well.
I awake feeling more peaceful than I have in years. It’ll take some time to understand the new memories. But seeing them means something. I’m someone. I have a past. I’m not made of a few years that formed after. For the first time, I’m anchored to something real.
Evan must have covered me while I slept. I push away the blanket and rise. When I enter the living area, he’s shirtless and lying on the floor doing sit-ups. I stop, mesmerized by watching his washboard abs curl and uncurl. A bead of sweat slips from one compact etched groove to the next.
“How are you feeling?” he asks, rising into a crunch.
“Strange,” I admit.
“So, normal?”
When I make a sassy face, his eyes gleam.
“There’s some deep dish in the oven. Help yourself.”
At the thought of pizza, my stomach grumbles. I find a napkin and utensils and fill my plate. I sit at the table and watch him. “Running twenty miles wasn’t enough?”
He hops to his feet with zero effort. “Actually, I wanted to show off.”
I laugh and find my headache has subsided. “I’m impressed. It worked. I’ve never seen a six-pack before.”
“Eight.” He corrects me with a grin and grabs a slice for himself. “Your leprechaun came by,” he says with a full mouth. He refills my water and gives me that look again. Drink.
“What did you tell her?” I pick up the glass and sip.
“I didn’t. She plowed me over and ran through the apartment until she found you sleeping. I’m surprised you didn’t wake up. She’s loud.”
“I’m surprised you survived. She’s crazy.” I place the glass on the table.
He flips a kitchen chair backward and straddles it. A triangle of pizza hangs from his grip. “Why does she call you the Princess of Darkness?”
I chew and swallow. “She jokes I’m a vampire.”
With his mouth full, he rolls his hand in air for me to elaborate.
“Because I run at night, wear a lot of black, and my favorite T-shirt.” I sit back so he can read my shirt, but leave my depression issues out of the explanation.
“Not sure why, but it is.” A fact I was always positive about, even before I put it on for the first time after.
I didn’t even recall The Cure’s music, but now that I’ve found it, I’m obsessed.
“Aggie stayed for a few hours, but she said she was bored. She’ll call later.”
I nod.
“And your phone’s been buzzing like crazy.” He pushes it toward me.
I swipe through and read the messages. “It’s Linden. He says he’ll fire me if I return to work tomorrow. Did you tell him?”
Evan shrugs. “You need a break.”
“But I’m about to close a deal.” My voice rises.
“Calm down. He’s already been in contact with what’s-his-face from Lakeman,” he says the name with annoyance. “And they want to meet on Wednesday anyway. Linden will handle it until then, so enjoy a few skip days.”
I cross my arms and slouch back into the chair, giving him a dirty look.
“If it helps, two of Lakeman’s principals are out of town. Nothing will be executed until they return anyway. You know these deals take time.”
“How do you know?” I turn defensive.
“I worked there from the time I was ten. That’s how negotiations work. It could take weeks or even months. You know that. You’re just not thinking clearly.”
I relax a little. He’s right. I shift in my seat and cross my legs, still uncomfortable with the idea.
An unrelated image pops into my head. More memories. I stare into space, watching, until Evan snaps his fingers. I blink at him, my eyes fluttering aware.
“You’re zoning out again. You sure you’re okay?”
“I’m fine. Just out of it.” That seems to cover everything wrong with me at the moment, but I need a distraction. I perk up with an idea. “Can we watch a movie?”