Chapter 39
Thirty-Nine
Present Day
Dr. Case’s office smells like peppermint. I read somewhere that peppermint soothes people. I wonder if she does that on purpose. I scoot the small bowl of decorative rocks she has in the middle of this coffee table right to the edge. Then I pick up one rock after another for examination.
“How’s Fran?” she asks. “Have you spent much time with her lately?”
I peer down at the handful of pebbles in my palm and drop them into the glass bowl. “Zevulun told me he loves me!” I bark.
“Oh. Well. This is new. What about Rob—”
“I’m over that.” I pick up the bowl of pebbles and hold it close to my chest. “He’s not who I thought he was.
Fran told me. Grammy told me. Even Zev told me, and he doesn’t even know him.
But then I saw it firsthand and—” I swallow.
“Well, that situation actually kind of threw Zev and me together, and two days ago he was high as a kite on drugs, and he told me that he loves me. And while it was probably a drug-induced accident, I can’t stop thinking about it and wondering if he actually could have meant it.
” My hands flail with the words like a drowning woman in a lake, which causes every single pebble in my bowl to fly all over Dr. Case’s office.
I bite my lip, holding back the four-letter word on the tip of my tongue.
Dr. Case weaves her fingers into her curled hair and pulls out one of the rocks.
“I’m sorry,” I groan, getting on my hands and knees. I pick up pebbles but stop with—
“Rosalie,” Dr. Case says, her tone authoritative. “Please sit. Someone will take care of that later. Her mouth purses, her brow furrows. “Explain. He was high?”
I keep her decorative bowl in my grasp, my knuckles turning white as I hold it tight. “Yes. On Benadryl, after an allergic reaction.”
“I see.”
But I’m not sure she does.
“You’re missing the part where he said he loves me,” I say, holding out my arm and pointing the bowl at her.
“I heard.” She taps her pen to her pad. “How does that make you feel?”
I groan. Really? She’s giving me the “how does it make you feel” spiel? “I don’t know,” I growl.
“You seem to have some feelings on the subject. Let’s explore them.”
“He wasn’t himself,” I huff, bouncing in my seat, and the half dozen pebbles I cleaned up jump from the bowl once more. “He was reacting to the entire bottle of Benadryl he consumed.”
“And yet,” she says, leaning forward and taking the decorative bowl from my hands, “you definitely have some feelings.”
I lean back, nothing in my grasp to distract me.
“It’s just—it took Robert so long to say it, and then he never really meant it.
” I sigh. “Zev just said it like it was the easiest thing in the world, like he’d been wanting to for some time.
” I shake my head. “Which is ridiculous because we haven’t even been friends that long. ”
She nods, continuous little nods as I speak. “So, it felt good.”
“I didn’t say that!”
“Then it felt bad?” she says, jotting something into her notebook.
“I didn’t say that either,” I squeal. “Don’t write that down!”
“I’m not writing anything down, Rosalie.” But she has pen to paper.
I cross my arms and glare at her. “It’s confusing, that’s all. I’m not even sure he remembers saying it.”
“Did you ask him?”
“No,” I scoff, sounding a little like my teenage self.
“Did you tell Fran about it? What were her thoughts?”
You know, sometimes I think I should be paying Fran for therapy. Dr. Case refers to her often enough. And Fran I could pay in strawberry lip gloss and Diet Coke.
“I didn’t tell Fran,” I say, unable to keep the grouch from my tone. “I’m telling you.”
“What are your reservations, Rosalie?”
“Who said I have reservations?”
“If you haven’t told Fran and she’s the person that, by your own admission, you tell everything, and you’re denying any kind of emotion over Zev’s declaration, then it seems as if you might be harboring reservations.”
“I am harbor free,” I tell her, my fingers curling into my palms.
She shuts her eyes for two seconds, as if finding her Zen with a pesky kid. “Okay then,” she says, opening them up again and focusing on me.
“It’s just, it hasn’t been very long. I didn’t even realize I liked Zev because I was still harboring feelings for Robert.
And now he’s throwing out I love yous.” I roll my eyes, tossing my hands in the air—I mean, as long as I’m throwing a fifteen-year-old fit.
“I’m telling you it was because of all the Benadryl in his system. ”
“So, then what’s the problem?” Dr. Case crosses her arms—I think in return to my rolled eyes.
I pull in a breath, my nostrils flaring. “Maybe I liked hearing it.”
She uncrosses her legs and leans forward a few inches, eyes on me. “Your family doesn’t say they love you?”
“Of course they do. Mom, Dad, Grammy, Fran—I hear I love you every dumb day of my life.”
She blinks, giving me a second to think. “Okay.”
I huff. “I don’t know, Janet,” I say, trying out Dr. Case’s first name. Huh. I really have turned into a teenage girl. Maybe my retrograde amnesia is regressing me in age. “I guess I just liked hearing him say it.”
She bubbles with a laugh. “Okay. And what’s wrong with that, Rosalie? You clearly have feelings about liking him saying it. What are they?”
“It’s too soon.”
“Says who? Last I looked, you are an adult. One who knows her own mind—”
I sputter a scoff and tap my broken head. “Good one.”
“I’m earnest. You know who you are even with the loss of a few years. You know who you want to be. Why wouldn’t you know who you want to be with?”
“Because not all that long ago I thought I wanted to be with Robert. Robert who cheated on me. Robert who asked me out though he’s married. Robert who flirted with me right in front of his wife.”
“Rosalie, life isn’t an experiment. It’s a journey. This journey of amnesia, of learning who Robert is, of finding yourself again, it has led you to Zev. You’re not supposed to be afraid of the journey. You’re supposed to enjoy it.”
Dr. Case has me thinking… I should tell Fran what Zev said. Why wouldn’t I? I would have before. She’ll like him. In fact, why haven’t I ever introduced them?
I’m going to.
I peer down at my watch. She’s at Callum’s game.
Maybe Zev would want to join me for an afternoon of soccer.
My heart leaps with the rightness. Because that’s exactly what I want to do.
Me: Hey, are you working today?
Me: I’m going to a soccer game. You should come.
I wait, but he doesn’t reply.
Maybe he is at work.
Me: I’ll buy you a ticket and either text it to you or leave it at will-call. If you’re able, come!
I’m not sure why my nerves are bouncing around like jumping beans—the man literally told me he loves me. But then he was under the influence of an entire bottle of children’s Benadryl.
Months ago, Fran told me there was always a seat for me next to her at Callum’s games.
Back then, I had no desire to go to a busy soccer stadium filled with strangers.
Today, I want to be here. I want to tell her about Zev.
I want her to meet Zev. I just need to buy a ticket to get in. Then I can find my seat next to Fran.
It feels like a miraculous switch in emotion. One I am certain I owe to Zev. I’m still going to be anxious but I can do this.
I walk up to the ticket counter, hoping the Red Tails aren’t sold out today, and buy the two cheapest tickets available. The woman hands me two paper tickets. I peer around and see will-call is just at my left.
I walk over and wait for my turn at the counter. “Hi, can I leave this for a friend?” I hold up one of my upper-level tickets.
“Hey! Rosalie,” the man behind the counter says with a smile. “How’s it going?”
Panic rises in my gut. I don’t know this man.
There is nothing familiar about his face.
But I’ve met him at some point. I shove down my need to vomit and pretend.
“I’m… good. Thanks. Um—” My eyes drop to his name tag.
“Dave,” I say with a false grin, my heart running a mile a minute.
“A man might pick this up. He’ll give you my name. Does that work?”
“Sure thing.”
I clear my throat and nibble on my inner cheek. “Do you need my name?”
He laughs, then writes my name—first and last—on a sticky note. He takes my extra ticket from the slot in the glass separating us and sticks the note with my name onto it.
I run a hand over my sweating neck. “Um, Dave, remind me where Fran sits.” I’m assuming this man knows my friend, that she’s the reason Dave and I are acquainted.
“Always the same. Down in front, center field. Section D. It’s right next to the tunnel the team runs out of. Has it been that long since you’ve been to a game?”
I force out a laugh. “It’s been a while.” Like, never in my mind.
I step away from friendly Dave and send Zev one more text.
Me: Give will-call my name. But ignore the seat and row on the ticket. I’ll be in section D, in the very front row. Come find me!
Wow, I am practically begging this man to join me. He hasn’t even seen my messages yet. Dang. He must be working.
I’m minding my own business, following the arrows to section D, when—
“Miss Conrad!” A young girl, maybe nine or ten, waves at me from across the concourse. She knows my name. She’s calling me “Miss.” But I’ve never seen her before.
I’m still two sections away from D.
See? This is why I moved. This is why I don’t go out.
The girl is with a man who I assume is her father. He grins a knowing grin, as if he is acquainted with me, too. Great.
I freeze in my tracks, heart pounding, nerves rising, gut rolling.
The girl skips over and hugs me around the middle—not even a hello first.
“Oh,” I grunt with the collision. “Um, hi, there.” My hands flail—I’m unsure what to do with them. I’m getting fearful that her hug will never end when I lower my hand and give the girl a quick pat on the back.