Chapter 37
Ava
I got out of a car and walked up to a door I’d been told was mine.
Many more doors lined up in a row, all the same shade of brown. The bricks were brown. The earth was brown.
The man who’d been with me since the hospital unlocked the door and passed me the keys before turning the handle. I examined the trinkets fastened together on the keychain. A blue circle read, “Big Harry’s Diner.”
Then two keys. The man had used one to open the door.
I forgot his name. He told me in the hospital. It started with a T. Tom? Terry?
Tucker. That was it. The name made my stomach settle.
He opened the door. “You can take a look around, or I can show you if you like.”
“I’ll look around.”
The room was large. I could identify most everything in it. Sofa. Table. Television. I spotted a strange black object on the table and picked it up. It had a long protrusion on the end, and many buttons.
“Do you remember how to use it?” Tucker asked.
I set it back down. “I don’t even know what it is.”
He frowned. I’d said the wrong thing. I’d been doing that constantly. He seemed displeased with me.
We entered a kitchen, and I instantly walked to one cabinet and laid my hands on the door.
“That’s where you keep your medicine,” Tucker said. “That’s a good instinct.”
I opened the door. A couple of bottles read Ava Roberts, which Tucker had told me was my name.
“Do I take all these?” I asked.
“No, we keep the old bottles. Anything with a big red X is one you shouldn’t take.”
“You said this happens every few years?”
“It depends on your medicine. This is the third I’ve known about.”
I passed a table covered in photographs and returned to the first room. Nothing looked familiar, although the smell was soothing. I moved to a hall. There were three doors. I opened the first, a closet full of towels and blankets. The second was a tiny bathroom with a blue shower curtain.
The third was a bedroom with one big bed.
“Is this mine?” I asked Tucker.
He shuffled his feet, eyes downcast. “Sometimes I stay here with you.”
So, I slept with this man in this bed.
I drew in another deep breath and let it out slowly. “Will you tonight?”
“No. No. Of course not. But I should stay on the couch. It’s almost midnight, a bit late to go back to Gram’s.”
“Gram’s?”
“My grandmother.”
I hesitated. “Do I love you?”
“You did,” he said. “I completely understand that you don’t right now.”
Strange. I sat on the bed. “I’d like to be alone for a little while.”
He nodded, his face solemn. “Let me know if you want me to help you with memories. We prepared for this. There are videos and notes and photos.”
“I don’t want to do anything yet. Can I be alone?”
Tucker shoved his hands in his pockets. His hair was tousled. “I’ll be in the kitchen if you need me.”
When he was gone, I closed the door and turned to my room. I stepped inside the closet and walked among the unfamiliar clothes. I liked jeans and colorful shirts. I had a lot of shoes. Some of the shirts were bigger than the others. I held one out.
This one must be his.
His clothes were here. I’d never get him to leave.
A box tucked in the far back corner of the top shelf caught my attention.
It was high and hard to pull out, so I moved on, heading back into the room.
The dresser proved full of socks and underwear and T-shirts.
The difference in the type of items from one drawer to another told me that some of these were also Tucker’s.
There was no escaping him. He belonged here, too.
I moved to the door, listening. He must have been sitting quietly because I couldn’t hear him moving around.
I turned back to the room. Should I go out? Ask him questions?
The box in the closet nagged at me. Something about it made my stomach quiver.
I returned to it. If I stood on my highest tippy toes, I could pull it forward. Finally, it landed in my hands.
I took it to the bed and lifted the lid. Inside were stiff circles that read “Big Harry’s Diner” like the keychain that opened the door. Big Harry’s must be important.
A red plastic badge read “Shelfmart” on the bottom and “Ava” in big black letters. There were photographs and lots of flowers cut from faded colored paper. Were these the things Tucker said I needed to learn who I was?
I pulled out a black and white notebook.
The words on the cover shook me to my core.
Trust only this handwriting.
This is the book.
Remember your life.
I flipped over my wrist. The words were so similar to this tattoo.
Why could I only trust this handwriting?
I flipped swiftly through the book, my eyes glancing off words.
Trust no one.
You were born in the year 2000. Anything else is a lie.
Living in the shelter has taught me one thing—men can’t be trusted.
Your journal is taped beneath the middle dresser drawer. Don’t let anyone find it.
I dropped the book and ran to the dresser to jerk open the second drawer. I felt underneath it.
There was nothing there!
I returned to the book, flipping quickly for another reference to the journal.
Your journal has been stolen.
My heart pounded so hard my head began to hurt.
Who stole it?
That man out there?
Men can’t be trusted.
What should I do?
I turned more pages, pausing when I saw a familiar name.
Big Harry’s Diner.
I scanned the page. I worked there. I had friends. It was one of the few places I felt safe.
I turned to the last page. A card was taped there.
Ava Roberts.
Last known address.
It listed numbers and a highway in Wimberley, Texas.
I stared at the closed door. Tucker told me on the ride home that we were in Austin. Not Wimberley.
I didn’t belong here.
This man had done something. He’d lied. Stolen my journal.
I fluttered my fingers across my wrist tattoo.
What should I do? Go to the last known address in Wimberley? Or Big Harry’s Diner?
Anywhere but here.
I opened the door a crack and peered out. I could see the living room, empty.
A sound in the kitchen meant he was in there.
Men can’t be trusted.
I tugged the card with the address out of the book and clutched my keychain. Beneath the words “Big Harry’s Diner” was another address on First Street.
How far away was that? Could I find another woman with a car to drive me there like the one we rode here? The car had driven up to the door of the hospital to bring me home.
Would one be waiting outside here to take me to Big Harry’s?
I slid against the wall toward the living room.
We’d come in through the brown door. That was how I would have to leave.
I drew in a breath. This was my chance.
And I ran.