“Victoria…”
Somebody shakes my shoulder none too gently. My eyes flash open and I stare into a pair of cold green eyes.
Alice, the day nurse, removes her hand from me as though I’m dirty. “Time to wake up.”
Of all the nurses at Fairfax, Alice is by far the worst. From day one she’s been out for me. She’s uncaring—devoid of emotions. How she’s remained here for so long is beyond me.
“You missed breakfast,” she says, her tone almost gleeful.
Instantly, I sit up and rub the sleep out of my eyes. I never oversleep. Ever. I like to be up and dressed before the nurses make their morning rounds. “You didn’t knock on my door.”
Alice looks at me with barely disguised disgust. “Yes, I did. You never responded.”
My eyes narrow.
Liar.
Alice has one tone—patronizing—and an arsenal of three different facial expressions: anger, disgust, and contempt. She treats most patients with hostility, but I swear she takes a particular interest in trying to tear me down. I’m probably the most harmless person here, but you’d never know from the looks she shoots my way.
“I don’t trust you,” her dull green eyes whisper. “Stay far away from me.”
“Besides,” she continues, “you’ve been here long enough to know when breakfast is.”
Another cup is thrust at me. This time there’s only one pill to swallow, but Alice is much more thorough than Kate. She peers carefully in my mouth, turning my jaw left and right as if I’m a doll.
I’m seconds away from choking on the pill when she finally steps back. Her eyes flick briefly to Evelyn’s crib. “Get dressed. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
As she walks away I hear her mutter underneath her breath: “This is no place for a baby.”
The minute the door slams, I jump out of bed and store the pill in my hiding spot. Turning, I glance around my room for remnants of Wes’s visit last night.
I dressed up just for him. I glance down at my pajamas and realize that I don’t remember changing. I run to the small closet in the corner. My dress hangs on the hanger. Right below it are my heels.
As I change, I think of last night. It felt too real to be a dream. Of that I’m sure. But I have no solid proof to back me up.
I go to the bathroom and wash my face. When I lift my head, I stare at my reflection. Now would be a good time to cover up the shadows underneath my eyes with concealer and swipe some blush across my cheeks for some color.
But I can’t seem to do it. The whole process feels fraudulent, as though I’m trying to wear someone else’s skin. No matter how hard I try to make it mine, it just doesn’t fit right.
I don’t know what makes me me anymore.
Evelyn cries out. I hurry out of the bathroom, and peer into her bassinet.
She’s swaddled tight, but her hands are in tiny little fists as she stretches. It’s fascinating that something so small can have such a powerful impact on me. With one smile she can obliterate my anger and sadness.
I can’t get enough of her smile.
I make quick work of changing her diaper and dress her in a washed sleeper. When I’m finished, I swaddle her, grab one of the bottles on the desk, and sit down in the rocking chair. As I watch her feed, I softly hum a nursery rhyme. She always stares up at me with these incredibly bright blue eyes. I have her attention and trust, and that’s the most important thing in the entire world. I love these moments. When her small body presses against mine, I can hear her little heart thumping away. It always calms me down. When she’s done, I hold her against my shoulder and give her back a few gentle taps.
Alice arrives moments later. “Ready?”
No, not at all. Evelyn hasn’t burped. A baby needs to burp or she’ll be gassy. But instead of saying this, I bite my tongue and reluctantly stand up. “Yes.”
Alice watches me coldly. She looks at me as if I’m vile.
“Since you overslept, you’re going to have to skip your rec room time.”
“Why?”
“Because you have to see your doctor.”
My life here has an order. And that order has never been broken: Breakfast. Dayroom. Lunch. Therapy. Dinner. Back to my room for some free time and all too soon the nurses are walking down the halls, handing out medications and announcing lights-out.
It should get old. Real fast. But it’s these moments that break up the monotony of this place. It keeps us sane.
“I want to go to the dayroom.”
Everyone else here calls it the rec room. Besides meals and group therapy, it’s the only time that male and female patients are blended together.
“Well, not today. You missed your allotted rec time because you were getting your beauty sleep.”
“I wasn’t aware I had a schedule.”
“Just come on.”
Stubbornly, I stand my ground. “No.”
“You don’t have an option. You’re going to see your doctor.”
The look in Alice’s eyes suggests that she has no problem dragging me down the hall. No problem at all.
Never before have I crossed Alice; I’ve never had a reason to. But today she’s ruining my routine. My mouth opens but I’m interrupted before I can speak.
“Look! It’s the Memory Woman!” Reagan, who’s walking circles around the new nurse, skips over to me.
“Reagan, what are you doing?” Alice says in that no-nonsense tone.
That’s all most patients would need to hear to pull themselves together. But not Reagan. She is Fairfax’s resident bad girl. She arrived two months ago and already holds the record for the most escape attempts. She’s up to six.
She looks so innocuous with her green doe eyes and auburn hair that hangs down to her waist in a tangled mess. But there’s a wild look in her eyes, like she’s lost and has no idea where she is. Sometimes she wears hospital gowns with stains on the front, but after a few days the nurses make her change into sweats. To finish off her look, she has to wear a blue wristband with ELOPEMENT RISK written in bold, black letters.
Today she’s wearing a hospital gown.
She pulls out a packet of cigarettes and taps the bottom of the package against her palm. She pulls a cigarette out. I stare at her with blatant shock. So does Alice.
Reagan just smirks as she reveals a lighter. She’s starting to look less like a patient and more like a magician. How the hell did she get a lighter past the nurses?
Right before she lights up, she smiles and takes the cigarette out of her mouth. “Forgive me. I’m so rude.” She extends the same cigarette to me. “Do you guys want a smoke?”
No one says a word.
“Alice? Mommy Dearest? Nobody?” Reagan glances at Evelyn. “What about you, little baby?”
Finally, Alice comes to her senses. “Give me those.” She snatches the cigarette pack and lighter away from Reagan and stuffs them into her pocket. “You know you can’t smoke inside.”
“Says who?”
Alice gestures toward the nurses’ station. Taped on the glass shield: SMOKING IS PROHIBITED INSIDE.
Everyone knows that smoking is only allowed after lunch and dinner. And it’s always done outside, in a small section, monitored by the nurses. Inside, it’s considered contraband. Reagan knows that.
“Hm. This is the first time I’m seeing this.” She turns to Alice. “Are you sure that wasn’t just posted?”
“Yes, I’m sure,” she snaps.
“Whoa.” Reagan lifts her hands in surrender. “Easy, Cujo. There’s no reason to yell.”
“You need to follow the rules like everyone else, Reagan,” says the blond nurse. She seems nervous, constantly looking at Reagan as if she’s a wild animal about to attack.
Reagan pouts. “I’m tired of all these rules.”
“Bring it up with your doctor,” Alice shoots back.
“You always say that.” Gone is the snark and dark smirk. Now she’s angry. This girl can turn on a dime. “The doctors do nothing!”
“You can always leave.”
“I can’t leave because, to quote my doctor, I’m ‘a danger to myself and everyone else.’ ” Reagan looks directly at me, a malicious smile on her face. “Hey, you have some experience with that, don’t you?”
I take a step back and then another. I need to get away from this girl. Reagan steps forward, her hands outstretched. “Let me hold the baby, Mommy Dearest.”
I back away. She steps forward.
“Come on,” she says, continuing her taunting. “Don’t you trust me? I’m a good babysitter. I promise.”
She looks me straight in the eye and then sighs. “Oh forget it. You’re no fun.”
Slowly, she backs away. It seems like she’s done creating a scene. But then she snatches the cigarettes from Alice and skips down the hallway. Her laughter trails behind her. “Come catch me, you old bat!” she shouts.
Alice looks like she’s going to kill her. She grabs the walkie-talkie hooked on her pocket and calls for assistance.
“Stay right there,” she tells me and then she’s chasing after Reagan.
I watch as she disappears around the corner.
When I glance around the hallway, I see that hardly anyone is giving the scene any attention. One lady peeks her head out of her room, looks around before she slams her door shut. This is the norm.
If Alice expects me to stay here and wait, she’s delusional. Her telling me to stay put makes me want to defy her even more.
With Evelyn cradled in my arms, I hurry down the hall.
A social worker passes by. She’s talking to one of the youngest patients in the women’s ward. The girl can’t be more than eighteen. She has a fight-or-flight expression.
She’s way too young to be here. There’s a part of me that wants to grab her by the shoulders and tell her to get out now. While she still has the chance.
I quicken my steps and look over my shoulder to make sure I’m in the clear. Still no Alice. Ahead of me, the doors to the women’s ward are shut, as always. You need a passcode to get through them. Momentarily, I panic, but through the glass I see a nurse punching in the code. I slow down and glance out the windows to my right, pretending to be fascinated with the outdoors. She walks by me and I grab the door right before it’s about to shut.
I walk confidently into my ward as though it’s perfectly normal to be without a nurse. The nurse behind the front desk doesn’t blink an eye and the one sitting to my left has her nose buried in a bodice-ripper romance. This place could catch on fire and she wouldn’t notice.
The dayroom is the largest room in Fairfax, with tables scattered throughout, always full of patients. Because of that, you’d think they’d spruce this place up more but the walls are painted a dull white. There’s a single painting of mountaintops during a sunset on the opposite side of the wall that looks like it’s been here since the day this place opened its doors. Windows line the left wall. The blinds are open, letting bright light in, so it’s not completely depressing in here.
Besides the dining hall, this is the only area that men and women share. We’re constantly kept busy here with sessions, therapy, activities, and meals. The activities are all laid out in front of us and we’re expected to reach out and take them. If you choose to go to your room for privacy, you can kiss the dream of leaving this place goodbye. Nurses will knock on your door every five minutes, to “check in on you.”
The table that I normally sit at is unoccupied and I hurry toward it.
The television is on, but the volume is so low that captions scroll at the bottom of the screen. Most of us waste away watching talk shows where women sit around a table and “discuss” topics, but it’s just a lot of yelling to me. We watch game shows. We watch soap operas. We watch the news. We watch anything and everything to avoid focusing on the problems haunting us.
Not so long ago, this used to be my favorite spot in Fairfax. I would make laps around the room, stopping a few times so Evelyn could look outside. When she was crying, angry and upset, I would hum a lullaby.
But now, no part of this place is my favorite; I see it for what it really is. A holding cell. It’s dressed in frills and lace, giving the impression that there’s freedom here, but there isn’t.
In my arms, Evelyn starts to fuss. I gently pat her back and give her a quick kiss on the cheek.
The front doors slide open. People come and go all the time, and I usually don’t pay attention. But today I lift my head and watch a man walk through. He brings in fresh air that drifts across the room and makes goosebumps break out across my skin. His hands are tucked into his front pockets. At first I think nothing of him. Then he turns and looks directly at me.
My heart becomes lodged in my throat.
This is the man Wes morphed into last night. I sit up straight. He blinks rapidly. His brows form a tight V. He looks at me with confusion and I have no idea why.
The nurse behind the front desk greets him and he looks away.
Patients and staff—all eyes are on him. We share one thought: Why is he here?
A dazed smile graces the nurse sitting behind the front desk.
Picking up the visitor clipboard, he writes his name down. I wish I were next to him. I want to put a name to that gorgeous face.
Since I’ve been at Fairfax, I’ve perfected the art of people watching. You can’t be obvious. In a place like this it’s awkward to be caught. No, you have to take furtive glances spaced apart—that’s enough for me to create a person’s life story.
With this man, I picture power. Control.
With his elbows on the counter he leans in closer to the nurse. She’s a newbie. Just last week she finished up her week of training. And the way she looks at him…I can already tell she’d give anything for him to continue talking to her.
He says something and she shakes her head. I try to read her mouth, but she’s talking too fast.
Then he gives the nurse the smile.
The smile that makes smart women turn stupid.
The nurse sighs and her shoulders droop in defeat. She sneaks a peek behind her shoulder to make sure no one’s watching before she leans over the counter and points straight at me.
The man looks my way. His eyes are intense. Strong. A force.
Pushing himself away from the front desk, he walks into the dayroom. He has a confident stride, as though every step he takes is fought for and earned. His chin is raised and eyes are forward, looking straight at me. My hands start to shake. I feel the blood rush from my fingertips, all the way down to my toes.
My heart starts to thunder.
Thump.
Thump.
Thump.
Each beat is louder than the last, until I am positive that everyone in the room can hear the pounding of my heart. I clutch Evelyn closer as the man stops directly at my table. I tilt my head back to make eye contact and I swear I feel a jolt straight to my heart.
“Can I sit down, Victoria?”
How does he know my name? I’m frantic, desperate to know what’s going on. Is someone playing a trick on me? I glance around the room, waiting for one of the doctors to jump out from around the corner and tell me this is just a test.
When I don’t reply, he lifts a brow and sits down across from me. He settles his hands on the table, lacing his fingers together. They’re large, rough with calluses and blunt fingernails. My stomach flips because I remember those hands on me, last night. Not Wes’s. His.
We sit in silence, but what exactly am I supposed to say? There’s no easy way to start up a conversation with a virtual stranger.
He stares at Evelyn with those hard eyes. His gaze flicks between my daughter and me. I shift Evelyn so her head is resting against my chest and gently pat her back. “I’m sorry, do we know each other?” My voice is firm, but kind.
He tilts his head to the side and looks at me beneath his lashes. The black slant of his brows brightens his eyes. “I’m Sinclair.”
I stare at him, expressionless. I know he expects me to recognize him. I don’t. I’ve never met him. Not counting last night.
“Sinclair Montgomery,” he elaborates.
Still nothing. All I can do is shrug. His eyes close and his lips move into a flat line. I don’t know him, but his pain is obvious. I wish I could help him. Yet how can I? I can barely help myself.
“You don’t remember me,” he says bluntly. No anger or hurt in his voice but there’s a riot of emotions in his eyes. It’s almost too much for me.
“Should I?”
His lips tilt up into the saddest smile. “You should.”
It’s crazy to have someone look straight at you, with thousands of memories playing in their eyes. Memories you can’t retrieve but wish you could.
Crazy and terrifying.
“Your name doesn’t sound familiar,” I offer quietly. I feel like my tongue is too big for my mouth and that anything I say will sound pathetic.
Sinclair.
His name is Sinclair.
With his dark looks and intense eyes, the name fits him to a T. He smiles at me, a slow smirk that spreads across his face, as if he knows what I’m thinking.
“I know you don’t remember me. That’s why I’m here,” he says. “We have a lot to catch up on.”
This seems all too…unbelievable. I hold Evelyn tighter. “Are you lying to me?” I whisper.
He leans in. “Since we’ve known each other I’ve never lied to you once,” he says fiercely.
“And how long has that been?”
He swallows and I watch his Adam’s apple bob. “Two and a half years.”
My doubt shows in my eyes.
Sinclair sighs. “I know you don’t believe me.”
“You’re right,” I concede. “I don’t. I’ve lived here for three years. There’s no way we’ve met.”
Sinclair frowns. His eyes flick across the room for a quick second and veer back to me. “Three years? You haven’t been here for three years.”
My mouth opens. I’m so close to insisting that I’m right. I should know better than anyone how long I’ve been here, but as I skim through my Fairfax memories and go back to the beginning I don’t see much. And that was all in…2011?
Frustration gets the best of me. What’s the point in having a memory when it doesn’t work? I close my eyes and rub my temple. When I finally look at Sinclair his expression softens as though he sees the brick wall my mind is running into. “You’ve only been in here for six months.”
I want to challenge his word so badly. I want to have cold hard facts, but I don’t. Three years. Three whole years I’ve been here and if we were such good friends why didn’t he come sooner? I ask.
“Since you’ve been here, I’ve tried to visit you every day.” His lips pull into a flat line. “I’ve been turned away every time.”
“How do you expect me to believe that?”
“Ask any of the nurses. Go look at the visitor sign-in sheet from yesterday, the day before, and the day before that. You’ll see my name on every page.”
I swallow loudly.
No one told me about his visits. I feel anger blossom in my chest. Shouldn’t it be my choice to decide who can and cannot see me?
“I promise you I’m not lying.” And before I can say a word, he speaks again. “Do you remember anything that happened?”
I frown. “What are you talking about?”
“Your past,” he says bluntly. “Do you remember?”
Patiently, he waits for my reply. My pulse skyrockets. “No.”
“Well I do.” His voice becomes gruff. “I can help you…if you let me.”
His offer is dangerous and enchanting. I have no proof, but I believe he knows my past. He is part of it.
I glance down at the table. A fine coat of dust covers the surface. I write my name in clear block letters.
VICTORIA.
VICTORIA.
VICTORIA.
I see nothing. Just letters strung together. This man claims to know me and I can’t help but wonder what he sees behind my name.
“How do you expect me to believe you?”
“You and my sister used to be best friends.”
“Used to?”
He nods and hesitates. “Before everything happened.”
When his words trail off, I have to stop myself from reaching across the table, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt, and demanding that he tell me everything.
But instead I just say: “Why doesn’t she visit?”
“She did at the beginning, but like me, she’s restricted.”
Exactly how many people were barred from seeing me? Was there a list? Did Wes make that happen or my mother? Or maybe my doctors were behind it?
“Why would she not be allowed to visit me?”
He gives me a weary smile. “Because she was the one who brought you here.”
The day I arrived at Fairfax, I remember slamming the car door and shielding the sunlight away with my hand as I stared at the building. I remember grabbing Evelyn from her car seat. I remember signing the admission paperwork and thinking to myself that while everyone else around me might be here to heal, I was here to rest.
Not once do I remember being accompanied by someone.
Sinclair looks like he wants to say something. His mouth opens and closes. In his eyes I see memories. Am I those memories?
“Victoria! What are you doing in here?”
Alice. The sound of her voice is like nails on a chalkboard. How long have I been sitting here? I jump out of my chair just as she walks over. She looks between the two of us and finally focuses on me.
“I told you to wait in your room.” She doesn’t wait for a reply and glares at Sinclair. “Mr. Montgomery, you’re not allowed to be here. Who let you in?”
Sinclair stands up. He towers over Alice. The corner of my lips twitch, but I fight my smile. It’s nice to finally see someone stand face-to-face with this woman and not be fazed by her harsh glare and scowl.
He gestures to the nurse behind the front desk, who looks ready to bolt. “She did.”
“Well, you can’t be here. You have to leave.”
Not yet. No, not yet. For the first time in a while, I feel like someone’s on my side. I’m not ready to let go of that feeling.
Evelyn starts to cry. I take a step toward Sinclair, but Alice blocks me. I’m a calm, patient person, but right now I want to shove Alice aside. I want to invoke that same level of fear in her that she vindictively shoots my way every day.
Sinclair reaches out. His large hand lands gently on my shoulder. It’s only a second before it slips away, his fingers grazing my arm.
“I’ll come back soon.” Before he turns and walks away his gaze collides with mine and he says, so quietly, “If you never remember us, that’s okay; I’ll remember for the both of us.”
And then he leaves.
Alice guides me toward the front desk. She speaks to the new nurse, no doubt reprimanding her for letting Sinclair through. I take this moment to peek at the sign-in sheet. His handwriting is unintelligible, but I clearly see the S and M. I go to yesterday’s sign-in sheet and the one before that. I keep moving until I’m a month out. His name is on every single sheet.
Sinclair Montgomery is right.