CHAPTER 29
“Cait. Look at me, Cait.”
I come to. Images flitter between reality and a painful blurred memory of before. My head and back are cradled in Evan’s arms. His wide, worried eyes stare down at me.
I blink again. We’re on the ground and there’s a white tent above us. It’s confusing. Someone’s pinching my wrist. Evan holds a cool towel over my forehead. There’s a chill under my armpit, between my legs? Ice?
I move.
“You need to drink some water.” A man offers a plastic cup, but I push it away, and it spills across the back of my hand.
“Cait. Just do it. They need to get your body temperature down,” Evan says. They think I have heatstroke. They don’t know. They don’t understand.
“I need to see. I need to see!” I fight his grasp to wrangle myself for a view over Evan’s shoulder to see for myself that I’m safe. That everyone here is safe. I blink several times, but there are only runners streaming past. The park, my park, sits across the street filled with cheering spectators. They’re smiling, waving signs, and blowing whistles. This is a far leap from what I saw and very far from my horror-filled dreams.
As soon as I understand, relief washes over me. It was another panic attack. I slump back into Evan’s embrace. Sweat beads at my neck. Tears explode at the fully formed memory. The pressure in my head releases.
“You’re okay. You’re okay.” Evan soothes by rocking me. I grasp his shirt between my fingers, and he squeezes me tighter.
“We’ll take you to the ER,” the man says. Through watery eyes, I notice the ambulance. Red and white lights flash silently. Gawkers encircle us, but volunteers wearing neon hold them back.
“No.” I shove him away and drag myself to stand on wobbly knees. My entire body’s trembling, lips quivering. I wipe my eyes. I stumble and steady myself by grabbing Evan who’s jumped up too.
“Whoa, Cait.” His hands are squarely on my shoulders. “Don’t be dumb. You passed out.”
“Evan, please, take me home. I’m fine.” He can’t see me this way. I need to appear strong. I can’t help the thoughts when they come, though I know it’s too late. He’s seen the worst of it. I school my tremors and cross my arms. I’m decided. Evan glances to the paramedic for backup, but I know I can refuse. I’ve done it before. I only need to sign some papers to be released.
We catch a taxi home. Evan pays, and we proceed inside. I’m eager to crash, drained from the encounter—my failure. I begin to climb the stairs, but he grabs my shirt, plucking the fabric taut. I pause and turn.
“Not so fast. If you refuse to see a doctor, I’m not letting you out of my sight. Someone needs to protect you from yourself.”
“Back to Dr. McDreamy?” I pout.
“Whatever it takes.” He crosses his arms.
I get the feeling he’ll throw me over his shoulder if he has to. And right now I’m too weak to protest, and I’m unsure I want to be alone. In my recall, it’s the worst attack I’ve ever had. If I have another... I begin to shake again. I nod with reluctance, and Evan leads me into his apartment.
“I’ll get you some clothes.” He makes me a glass of water and places it in front of me on the table and instructs me to drink. I hand over my keys. When he darts away, my phone chirps with a text. I remove it from my pocket and read.
AGGIE: How many more miles until we celebrate? Lou’s antsy.
Attached is a photo of Lou perched high atop a monument. He’s grabbing a naked sculpture’s crotch. A police officer gestures at him from the ground. On any other day this would cheer me. Instead, shaky fingers text her back.
ME: Had an issue. Have fun without me.
AGGIE: More shit?
ME: Safe. At Evan’s.
AGGIE: On my way.
ME: No, I’m fine.
She doesn’t respond, which means she’ll do as she pleases. I place the cell back on the table. My head lolls to the side. I haven’t touched my water.
Evan returns and places a few pairs of yoga pants, undies, bras, and my favorite shirt in front of me, along with a grocery bag filled with toiletries. I shift through the clothing he must have gathered from my clean laundry basket, noting there’s a lot here.
“How long am I staying?”
“Drink your water,” he demands and sits down with his own glass.
I take several gulps. Our silence settles and grows before fading into a buzz from the refrigerator. Evan hasn’t asked a single question about what happened, for which I’m thankful. Though I don’t want to, I’m focused on what I saw. A chill runs over my body. I shiver and close my eyes. Seconds later a blanket falls over my shoulders, and Evan’s strong hands rub my upper arms.
“My cape.” I touch my neck. The space where it was tied is empty.
“We took it off when you passed out. Do you want me to run back for it?”
I shake my head. More guilt, but Aggie will understand.
He continues, “Why don’t you clean up? A shower will make you feel better. I’ll get us some lunch. It’ll be good for you to load up on carbs.”
“Good idea.” My voice is monotone. In a fog, I rise from the table and the blanket slips away. My mind tumbles through and lands on that nudging sensation. It’s back. My memories dance along the edge on my mind, taunting me. Torturing me. If I could reach out and tug them in my direction, they would unravel. I’d be able to fold them out and read them like a book. If I was alone, maybe I could concentrate and retrieve more.
When I’m aware again, I’ve already showered. I’m wearing fresh clothes and sitting on Evan’s bed. I don’t even understand how I got here, and my entire body feels numb. I’m holding a towel to my hair, patting it dry. Everything moves in slow motion. The door eases open. Evan leans inside.
“You okay?” When I glance over, a worry crease forms between his brows.
“Just need some time.” Even my words are too slow. Too deep.
He wouldn’t understand, but when he closes the door, I focus on the blank wall before me. There are images crossing my mind in a daydream-like state. They’re a small collection, some I’ve had before now but this is different. These are filled with small stories, which actually make sense.
I lie back on the bed and tug a pillow to my chest. In the pictures behind my eyes I watch: a young me at birthday party with Barbie dolls. Everything is pink, my favorite color at the time. I throw a tantrum when the party ends. I throw a doll across the room, for which I’m punished.
I open a window of the car speeding down a hilly country road. The sweet scent of grapes wafts inside. I know we’re nearing my grandfather’s farm in Virginia. When we arrive, I run through the vineyards, chasing the black birds. Hand in hand, my grandmother and I explore the woods. I find a small turtle in their yard. I take it home and make it my pet. His name is Buster or Bubble, something that begins with a B. I don’t know if these things happened in one day, but I know they happened. It’s as though they’re in a folder marked Grandparents.
The memories are small, but they’re something. More than I’ve ever had. I’m seeing them from the outside rather than living within them, like earlier today. Maybe by returning to the campus, it released something within me.
For now, I don’t want to remember the campus. I’ve seen enough in my dreams previously to understand that what made sense was real. By my count, I’ve dreamed of that park dozens of times. I hoped I was becoming indifferent to the images, but how can I when something so horrible happened?
I roll to the side and tug my legs near my chest, focusing on the positive. More images from my early years flash. My parents are the same. Controlling with an insatiable need for me to succeed. This is why I am the way I am—strict with rules and unwilling to lose. I watch and learn and when it’s too much to take, I close my eyes and sleep, finding them in my dreams as well.
I awake feeling more peaceful than I have in years. It’ll take some time to understand the new memories I’ve been given. But in seeing them, I’m happy. I’m someone. I have a past. I’m not made of a few years that formed after. For the first time, I’m anchored to something real.
Evan must have covered me while I slept. I push away the blanket and rise. When I enter the living area, he’s shirtless and laying on the floor doing sit-ups. I’m mesmerized watching his washboard abs curl and uncurl. A sweat bead slips between one compact, etched groove to the next.
“How are you feeling?” he asks, rising into a crunch.
“Strange,” I admit.
“So, normal?”
I stick out my tongue, and his eyes gleam.
“There’s some deep dish in the oven. Help yourself.”
At the sound of the word pizza, my stomach grumbles. I find a napkin and utensils and fill my plate. I sit at the table and watch him. “Running twenty miles wasn’t enough?”
He pops to his feet with zero effort. “Actually, I wanted to show off.”
I laugh and find my headache has subsided. “I’m impressed. It worked. I’ve never seen a six-pack before.”
“Eight.” He corrects with a grin and grabs a slice for himself. “Your leprechaun came by,” he says with a full mouth. He refills my water and gives me that look again—drink.
“What did you tell her?” I pick up the glass and sip.
“I didn’t. She plowed me over and ran through the condo until she found you sleeping. I’m surprised you didn’t wake up. She’s loud.”
“I’m surprised you survived. She’s crazy.” I place the glass on the table.
He flips a kitchen chair backward and straddles it. A triangle of pizza hangs from his grip. “Why does she call you the Princess of Darkness?”
I chew and swallow. “She jokes I’m a vampire.”
With his mouth full, he rolls his hand in air.
“Because I run at night, wear a lot of black, and my favorite T-shirt.” I sit back so he can read my shirt. I leave my depression issues out of the explanation.
I continue, “Not sure why, but it is.” A fact I was always positive about, even before I put it on for the first time after. I didn’t even recall The Cure’s music, but now I’ve found it, I’m obsessed.
“Aggie stayed for a few hours, but she said she was bored. She’ll call later.”
I nod.
“And your phone’s been buzzing like crazy.” He pushes it toward me. It scrapes along the tabletop.
I swipe through and read the messages. “It’s Linden. He says he’ll fire me if I return to work tomorrow? Did you tell him?”
“You need a break.” He shrugs.
“But I’m about to close a deal.” My voice rises.
“Calm down. He’s already been in contact with what’s-his-face from Lakeman,” he says the name with annoyance. “And they want to meet on Wednesday anyway. Linden will handle it until then, so enjoy a few skip days.”
I cross my arms and slouch back into the chair, giving him a dirty look.
“If it helps, two of Lakeman’s principals are out of town. Nothing will be executed until they return anyway.”
“How do you know?”
“I worked there from the time I was ten. I know how deals work. The final paperwork will be delayed for weeks if not longer. You know that as well as me.”
I relax a little. I do know that. I shift in my seat and cross my legs, still uncomfortable at the idea. An unrelated image pops into my head. More memories. I stare into space, watching. Evan snaps his fingers. My eyes flutter aware.
“You’re zoning again. You sure you’re okay?”
“I’m fine. Just out of it.” That seems to cover everything wrong with me at the moment, but I need a distraction. I perk up with an idea. “Can we watch a movie?”