Chapter 1 #3
“My mom drank. She died. I don’t. Why are we here?” Impatience surged through my veins.
“Let’s order first. I’m starving. If you’re wondering what’s good, it’s all as delicious as it smells. Sometimes I want one of everything on the menu.”
I dreaded the ordeal of ordering in person.
Most of the time, I ordered takeout online to avoid the embarrassment of silent pointing, which made me feel so useless.
Sometimes I wanted to talk, but when I tried, nothing came out.
Dr. Maeve said that I wasn’t trying. That deep down, I didn’t want my voice.
She said I needed to find the right incentive.
I studied my menu and flipped it closed almost right away. Christopher was staring, but I was determined not to fidget under his gaze.
“Well, Lizzie. What’re you getting?”
He leaned back in his wooden chair, the picture of ease and relaxation, while I dripped with sweat, a side effect of extreme anxiety. I hoped it wasn’t obvious.
I pointed to the two items I’d chosen.
When our server returned with ice water and a pint of his chosen IPA, Christopher ordered. “The lady will have the lamb madras curry and I’ll have butter chicken. We need two orders of vegetable samosas, an order of naan, and a side of basmati rice.”
Grateful he’d handled my order with so little discomfort, I sipped my ice water. Why was he being so considerate?
“Thanks,” I texted. My tense shoulders loosened a little.
“I suppose I should explain.” He took a long drink of beer, then set it on the coaster.
He adjusted it to sit in the exact center before speaking.
“I didn’t know you were unaware of what happened to Brandon.
I apologize. He’d said it was a rough breakup, and I respected both of you enough to stay out of it—give you space.
It was none of my business. I thought you would’ve heard what happened to him through others at work.
I didn’t consider how little you interact with people and I’m sorry I upset you. ”
I shrugged, watching him play with his fork.
“I didn’t handle it well at first, either. I had a rough couple of years. We all need to escape. Hence the women. Though, as you may have noticed, I quit some time ago.”
I hadn’t noticed. As usual, I’d only noticed things I wanted to see.
I nodded, suspicious of his motives for taking me out for dinner. He was the last person I’d date, if I dated. Which I didn’t. That would require being close to someone.
Christopher took another sip. “Last night, I got a strange call. Someone called for Dr. Winters. I seldom use that name outside work, even though I have a doctorate. Then the man launched into gibberish about the serum and needing to restart human trials. He talked fast. Something about genetic enhancement.”
Startled into meeting his eyes, I grabbed my phone. ‘He was looking for your brother.’ I couldn’t type his name any more than I could say it. My fingers felt paralyzed.
“Yeah, I figured that, but he didn’t let me explain.
It was a brief call. He freaked out near the end.
Said he had to go, that they’d traced his line, that it was too dangerous.
In the background, there was a crashing sound, then a bang, like a door had been forced open.
There was a scuffle, and the line went dead. ”
My eyes widened in surprise and my pulse quickened. Once, I’d overheard Brandon on the phone. He’d mentioned the pressure to start human trials. I’d asked him about it later. That conversation had been our last.
“I’ve tried calling back, but it goes straight to an automated voicemail with no name. I didn’t leave messages.”
I shook my head.
“What?”
“They might come for you if they think you’re him.”
“Who? Brandon?”
I cringed when he said the name, but maintained eye contact.
“Give me some credit. I blocked my number. But I appreciate your concern for my well-being.” He grinned, his dimple reappearing.
My heart lurched at the sight. I didn’t want to like him. I’d rather ignore him.
“What I was wondering,” he said. “Does any of that sound familiar? Brandon said you remember everything. So, if he mentioned anything odd like that, I figured you’d know.”
I must have hesitated or looked guilty because his eyes lit up and he talked faster.
“I knew it. It’s years later, but better late than never. The doctors say a drug overdose caused Brandon’s coma.”
I choked on my water and my hands shook as I set down the cold glass. I couldn’t have heard that right. Brandon had been career-driven, health-conscious, and careful. He’d never take drugs.
I shook my head. No way. The room became too hot as my cheeks burned. A tightness constricted my chest as it sucked the air from my lungs. The restaurant became too confining. I had to get out.
“I agree. He didn’t do drugs. It wasn’t an overdose. His coma had to have been caused by something else. The call may be a clue. I want to solve this mystery and I need your help. Help me Obi-wan Kenobi, you’re my only hope.”
Ignoring the Star Wars reference, which in other circumstances I would’ve loved, I shoved back my chair, grabbed my phone, and ran.
Christopher called after me, but I didn’t listen.
I made it outside and two buildings over before I stopped to throw up.
I wanted to be left alone, but, of course, Christopher followed.
When I leaned forward, one hand on the rough stone wall, he held my hair away from my face as I heaved.
He rubbed my back and made soothing sounds I couldn’t understand for the roaring in my ears.
What if I could’ve helped Brandon, and I’d let him down?
Christopher handed me a glass of water and a cloth napkin from the restaurant to wipe my mouth. My legs were rubbery, and I shook all over.
My eyes filled with scalding tears, but I didn’t let them fall. I took a deep breath and barricaded my feelings away. Since my childhood, I’d taken upsetting thoughts or feelings and visualized them behind a barrier. Sometimes it helped.
He stepped back, his hands shoved deep in the pockets of his jeans.
“I have nowhere else to turn, and I need your help. I won’t say another word about Brandon tonight. I had no idea how badly you’d react. I’m sorry. Come inside and eat. You’re too skinny. Then I’ll drive you home, leave you alone to think.”
I was a coward. I didn’t know how to help, but I let Christopher take my arm and guide me back to our table.
He slid a piece of gum across the table and ordered mint tea to settle my stomach.
I allowed him to take this much care of me while he chattered about books and movies.
He made it easy for me to just sit. He didn’t ask questions or make demands.
I’d walked to work, so it was convenient to let him drive me home—I could avoid the darkening streets.
On the walk to his car, I pulled out my phone to text him the address, but he said, “I know where you live. The same place, right?”
I nodded. He’d picked up his brother a few times, long ago. My heart hurt. I wanted to curl up with a romance novel and escape.
At my darkened townhouse, I got out, texted my thanks, and climbed the stairs.
I wished I’d left the porch light on. I’d known I might not be home until after dark, as I often worked late.
I raised my hand to signal that I was fine, but Christopher didn’t drive away until I’d located my key and unlocked the door.
If I hadn’t found being around him confusing, it could have been a pleasant evening. I hadn’t expected to enjoy his company. I’d felt more normal than I had in a long time. The last two years had been lonely and had seemed like an eternity.
I put down dinner for my kitty and headed for the shower, wishing I could wash my feelings down the drain.
It was getting too hard to keep them distant.
I had so many regrets in my life and tonight only highlighted them.
I’d spent years feeling sorry for myself about Brandon’s disappearance, wondering what I’d done wrong.
Afraid I hadn’t measured up. That I hadn’t been good enough.
I regretted getting mixed up with Eric. Our marriage had been a disaster.
I also regretted the energy I’d spent hating someone who, while over-confident and annoying, wasn’t so bad.
Tonight, my house seemed quiet and too empty.
My eyes grew tired from reading and I shut out the light, but the silence pressed inward and wouldn’t let me rest. I tossed and turned for another two hours.
Too many thoughts tumbled in my head, like clothes in a dryer.
Around and around, going nowhere. My mind went where it always did when I couldn’t sleep—back to the same few jarring moments.
After the accident, my boss advised me to take some time—a leave of absence was usual in these circumstances.
Instead, I threw myself into my work, which became my existence.
I went through the motions of living. I attended Eric’s funeral, but all I remembered were white flowers and the smell of lilies.
After the funeral, I avoided my family. They meant well, but despite the tragedy, it didn’t affect their lives the way it did mine.
My family misinterpreted my wall of numb silence as shock or sorrow.
They didn’t know that guilt consumed me. Or relief. Or guilt about the relief.
I couldn’t remember the last time I’d laughed.
It must be years, but it had nothing to do with the accident.
It dated back to the beginning of my marriage, when I’d let myself slip away, becoming a cringing, fearful husk without friends.
I was ashamed that I’d made such poor choices.
I didn’t want anyone to learn what I’d hidden the last four years, locked in the prison of my mind. The real secret was now six feet under.
In moments like this, I believed that keeping secrets had led to one thing. I was alone. I didn’t have anyone to lean on, to confide in. Alone didn’t have to mean lonely, but I was. Nothing seemed to fill the gaping hole inside.
“I’m still ashamed, Ember.” I stroked her soft fur. She didn’t open her eyes, but a rumbly purr emerged. “Eric hurt me and before that, Brandon. When you let yourself care about people, they have the power to hurt you. I don’t know how much more I can take. Being alone is too hard.”
In desperation, I jumped out of bed and grabbed a piece of amethyst from the top of my dresser.
A couple of sessions ago, Dr. Maeve had brought out a tray of stones and asked me to select a piece to be my worry rock.
I’d thought her request silly, but harmless, and had complied.
My gaze had settled on the purple crystals as if they’d spoken.
I had expected nothing to come of it but had taken it home.
I reviewed her words as I gripped the crystals in my hand.
“All my hardest clients choose something special,” she’d said. “Stones have properties to heal our minds. This may relieve your anxiety. Hold it when you’re sleepless and overwhelmed.”
I didn’t know how it worked, but she wanted me to think of better times and believe I could get through this rough patch. I’d tossed it there weeks ago, skeptical of its use. I’d been unhappy for so long, but news of Brandon’s death was the last straw.
What did I have to lose? Something had to make a difference. It was worth a shot. Tears leaked from the corners of my eyes as I stared at the ceiling and clutched the purple stone to my chest, its sharp edges etching the palm of my hand. My feelings were impossible to keep at bay at night.
With Ember curled into a tabby-sized ball of fur near my hip, I whispered.
“I don’t know how to change anymore. I’m so alone.”
As I squeezed the stone in my fist, I shuddered and suppressed a sob.
“I wish I had a mulligan so I could redo my life.”