If you relax and try to have a good day, you will be much happier. Just remember that the people around you care about you very much, and only want you to be safe. Do what they say. You are in good hands. Trust me.
“Oh God, this is horrible!”
I scoop water into my mouth, trying to get out the taste of pomegranate juice. This is the most awful thing I’ve ever tasted. It’s making me sick. I want to pick up the bottle of soap and squirt it into my mouth. Because even soap would taste better than this awful juice.
“I don’t get it.” Graham is standing next to me, frowning. “Usually you love the stuff. Yesterday you drank two heaping glasses of it. And then you asked for a third glass.”
Is he joking? He has to be. There’s no chance I really like this stuff, do I? But his blue eyes are wide behind his spectacles. Graham doesn’t seem like a joker.
“I make a special trip every week to buy it for you.” He looks hurt now. “Maybe I shouldn’t anymore.”
“Yeah, you shouldn’t.” I back away from the sink, wiping the back of my mouth with my hand. “Sorry. I… I don’t know why I didn’t like it. Maybe tomorrow will be different.”
“You seem off today.” He cocks his head to the side. “Maybe we should go see the doctor. They might need to do another scan of your brain. I mean, what if you need surgery again?”
My hand flies to the scar on the right side of my scalp. “No, please don’t. I’m fine.”
My head swivels at the sound of scraping at the back door. Graham explained to me earlier that my dog is out in
the backyard. Apparently, I have a dog. Ziggy. “Can I let him in?” I ask Graham. “Please?”
Graham shakes his head. “No. He’ll trash the furniture.
But you can go out in the backyard if you want.”
Of course, then I have to wait for him to unlock the back door. I can’t be trusted not to wander off.
When I step out into our spacious backyard, a beautiful golden retriever immediately bounds over to me. I’ve never believed in love at first sight—it took me months to say the L-word to even Harry—but now I’m a convert. I love this dog. He licks my hand and when I bend down, he starts licking my face. I would’ve thought it would gross me out, but I love it. Just being near this dog makes the low-level feeling of dread I’ve had since I woke up this morning subside slightly.
“You’re a good boy,” I tell Ziggy.
He licks my face. I don’t know what to think about everything that’s happened since I woke up next to a stranger this morning. But I can tell this dog loves me.
Ziggy picks up a rubber ball with his mouth. I hold out my hand and he drops the ball into it. He wants to play. I straighten up and toss the ball across the yard. Ziggy goes crazy, running after the ball. His happiness is almost infectious.
“Tess!”
My ears perk up. Somebody is calling my name. Or is that a hallucination?
“Tess! Over here!”
It’s a male voice, coming from behind me. I’m not hallucinating. Somebody is calling for me.
I turn around, but there’s nobody there. Nothing but the fence surrounding the backyard.
“Tess!” The door to the fence rattles, and that’s when I see the thick padlock holding the door closed. “Over here.”
My stomach flip-flops as I approach the fence. When I get close enough, I can see through the gaps in the fence
that a man is standing there. He’s wearing a dark jacket, has a thick beard, and he’s wearing a Mets cap low on his head. A pair of sunglasses conceal his eyes.
“Tess,” he says. And then he takes off his sunglasses. I clasp a hand over my mouth. “Harry!”
I grip the metal fence, wishing the gaps were big enough that I could reach my hand through and touch him. As it is, I can barely even see him. I have to put my face so close to the fence, my nose is nearly touching it. Harry. The guy I am supposed to be married to right now. The love of my life. I don’t know what the hell happened.
“I needed to see if you were all right,” he says in a low voice. “You didn’t answer any of my text messages yesterday.”
I frown. “How could I? I don’t have a phone.”
Harry is silent on the other side of the fence. It’s hard to read his expression. It’s hard to see through the fence, and the beard and baseball cap obscure a lot of his face. All I want to do is burst through the gate and wrap my arms around him.
“Graham must have taken your phone away,” he finally says. “Because of me.”
“No, I never…” I start to tell him I never had a phone, but then I realize I don’t know if that’s true. I can’t remember what happened yesterday or the day before that or a year before that. If Harry says I had a phone, I probably did.
So why don’t I have one anymore?
“I used to get in touch with you through your phone,” Harry explains. “Graham got mad about it so I guess he took the phone away. He’s a manipulative bastard.”
I flinch at this description of the man who introduced himself to me as my husband. He seemed nice enough. And the letter I wrote to myself about him was complimentary. And not nearly so complimentary about Harry.
“You… you know Graham?” I ask.
He laughs bitterly. “Yes. I know Graham.” “Oh.”
He lets out a long sigh. “I’m sorry. I wish I could tell you he’s a great guy. I wish he were a great guy. But he isn’t.”
“Harry, you’ve got to get me out of here.” “I… I can’t.”
“Why not? Just come to the door and tell him that I’m leaving with you…”
“It’s not that easy. I wish it were.”
Ziggy comes up beside me and nuzzles my hand. Tears gather in my eyes. “I don’t like being here. I want to leave. Please help me.”
Harry is quiet. I want him to tell me everything is okay, and that he’s going to get me out of here. But with every passing second, I’m realizing that’s never going to happen.
“I wanted to see if you were okay,” he says. “But I think I should leave you alone. I’m not helping you. I thought I could help you—I wanted to so badly—but I’m not. I… I’m just making things worse. I’m making Graham angry at you.”
“No!” I grip the fence with my fingers. “Don’t leave. I need you.”
He stands there. Not leaving, but not saying anything either.
“Please, Harry!” The tears start rolling down my cheeks. “I love you. I thought we were going to spend our lives together. Please help me. Please.”
He shakes his head on the other side of the fence. He slides his sunglasses back on. He’s leaving. Oh God, he’s leaving me here.
“Harry,” I whimper. “Please…”
He heaves a deep sigh. “One time when we met,” he says, “you told me where you think he hides your phone at night—in the ottoman next to the recliner. There’s a charger in there.”
I nod. “I’ll call you when I get my phone.”
“No.” His voice is sad. “You shouldn’t. Don’t call me. But… you should have your phone. It’s not fair that he took it because of me.”
“Harry…” “Bye, Tess.”
I cling to the gate as I watch him walk away, suppressing the urge to scream out his name. I loved Harry Finch. I wanted to marry him and spend my life with him. I wanted to have children with him. And now I have a terrible feeling I will never see him again.
