J ames

Can’t believe I’m here again .

I need to get up. Check my phone. Feels like more than a day’s gone by .

I remember it being night, and day, and night again; someone tipping water down my throat. And I took a shower, a long, long shower. That—I remember that. I was in there so long the skin between my fingers started to crack. All night, maybe. Till the hot water ran out .

There’s a towel under me, practically welded to me. Must’ve thrown it down before I collapsed. My face is all...nubbly. Towel-textured .

Need to get to my phone .

I push myself to my knees, and instantly regret it. My stomach flips and clenches, and I barely get my head over the toilet before I’m seized with a burst of dry-retching. Oh. Right. I remember that, too. Vomiting...a lot of vomiting. And voices—some angel of mercy wanted to call 911. Wonder if they did ?

That must’ve been hours ago now. I had a whole dream, curled up on the bathroom floor, one of those ones that seems to last more than a night. I was back home in Georgia, but nobody else was. The house, the yard, the street—nothing left but signs of life: a chair with a warm seat; a swing still creaking on its chains; something bubbling in the slow-cooker .

Everywhere I went was the same, and this feeling started to build, this feeling I’d missed them by moments—Dad, Mom, Granddaddy, my friends from high school. I set about knocking on doors, yelling through windows, but the life I was reaching for stayed stubbornly beyond my grasp .

I’m awake now, but that feeling... Can’t shake it. Like I’ve lost something essential .

My phone’s on the edge of the sink. If I could risk pulling my head out of the bowl, I might just reach it from here .

Or I could lie back down. Let it all hang for a while .

I tuck my fist under my chin and slide back into my dream. I don’t mind this ghost town. It’s quiet, but it’s familiar. Grandma’s chair is where it always was, on the porch. Old Mr. Jessup’s hummingbird feeder, that’s there too, filled to the brim with nectar. Maybe they’ve gone to the fair. If I wait around, watch the birds—maybe head into the diner, put a couple of tunes on the jukebox—sooner or later, they’ll start coming home .

But I can’t get comfortable. Grandma’s chair is harder than it looks, and those hummingbirds sound like bike horns. I shift and squirm: something’s wet, soaking through my sleeve. And my elbow —

I wake with a start. Still on the floor. I cradle my tender stomach and squinch my eyes shut .

Things are coming back to me now: things I don’t want to face. Memories, not dreams. I was at the bank machine. And...some woman. Not my wife. She was laughing. Hanging off me. Did I—did we do something ?

I remember her taking my money. Not just her. There was a man —

“What do we do with him now ?”

“Fuck if I know .”

I reach for my pants, wadded up by the toilet. Wallet’s still there. No money, though. No ID, either. But my credit card’s back, the corporate one—a new copy, without the scratch on the magnetic strip. Don’t remember getting that .

Diana—Diana’s going to kill me .

I stagger to the bedroom, fall face-first on the bed, and I’m under again .

“Get him in the car. Just... Get him the hell out of here .”

“Where do I take him ?”

“Jesus fucking Christ! Not here! Do I gotta spell it out for you ?”

Not a dream—Not a dream!—I don’t want to be here. Don’t want to remember —

“Keep his head over the bucket. Fuck! This is more trouble than it’s worth !”

“Let’s just lose him. Throw him out somewhere. Let the cops deal with him .”

“He said to keep him out of sight till Saturday .”

It’s Saturday? That means—that would mean...three whole days. I’ve lost three whole days .

I remember them now—a skinny blonde and a tall guy with a mustache. Watching TV, eating KFC out of a bucket, passing the time. He was the one who gave me the water. Must’ve been tainted with something. Can’t remember anything after that .

I drift in and out for a while. I’m dimly conscious of sobbing into the pillow—a weird parasympathetic response, I think. I’m not upset, barely aware—what the hell did they dose me with ?

By the time I come to for real, the sun’s streaming in through the blinds. I sit up, and don’t instantly feel the need to puke or pass out. Progress, I guess. Getting dressed is next, and I manage that too. I have to take a break between pant legs, wait for my head to quit spinning, but I’m okay. Back in my right mind .

I lean back against the bathroom cabinet to button my shirt. Somebody’s stolen my cufflinks; of course they have. My tie-pin’s gone, too. Diana gave me that. She’ll be frantic, waiting at home ....

Something nags at the back of my mind .

Diana—what did I do ?

“Keep it. And choke on it !”

Oh.

That’s what I did .

So no one’s looking for me. No one’s missing me. I really am back where I started. If I called for an Uber, would it somehow be her? Could we start again, like nothing happened ?

Something’s still bothering me. The fight with Diana, that was only the beginning. I don’t remember doing this. Last clear memory I can call to mind, I was waiting on the couch for her. She was coming back—never did know how to stay mad. We were going to talk, but then... Someone came in ?

Oh, right. Just Tom. Not helpful .

A fresh wave of vertigo sends me spinning. My ears ring and flutter. One more nap: half an hour, and I’ll call that Uber. And then Diana. Maybe the cops—though, depending on what I did while I was out, that might not be wise .

I close my eyes where I sit, and let the darkness take me. No dreams this time, and it’s still light when I wake up. Still light, and someone’s knocking. That sick sense of déjà vu steals over me again. It’ll be Tom, and he’ll tell me I’m fucking up. I could use a girlfriend. Someone to keep me on the straight and narrow. I’ll blow him off, but then —

Still knocking .

Guess I’d better get that .

I freeze with my hand on the door .

Tom.

Feeding me aspirin, stroking my hair, holding me underwater .

I close my eyes .

Not the water part, but the rest ....

He gave me something. Something that made me sick, dizzy ....

Another memory stirs—a more distant one, this time. Me and Tom at the Niagara Gorge picnic area. Hoagies and beer, clammy hands, dry mouth... And then I wanted to ride the AeroCar. And then it was Monday, and Diana was driving me home .

No. No—I was drunk that night. I definitely remember champagne, strippers ....

And Tom’s still knocking .

I fling open the door, fist cocked, but it’s Diana on the other side. She throws her arms around me like I’m the best thing she’s seen all day. “James! Where’ve you been? I’ve been looking everywhere—I thought you were... I was so worried !”

I sway in her arms. She’s all that’s holding me up .

“Shit!—You’re shaking! Your eyes—Come and sit down !”

I let her lead me to the bed. I must stink right now—that floor was musty as hell, and that sickly chemical smell...Think that’s my sweat. But my need for comfort outweighs my vanity. I crumple against her, nuzzle into her shoulder. Not sure I deserve her kindness—pretty sure I did something shitty, let her down big-time—but she’s soft and warm. Welcoming. Can’t find it in me to pull away .

“How’d you... How’d you find me ?”

Her fingers are in my hair—so nice. So familiar. “Showed your picture at every front desk along the strip till I got a hit.” She holds up her phone. There I am, cuddled up with Percy after a long day. “Guy was worried about you. Said some woman brought you in, barely conscious. He almost called 911 .”

“Wish he had .”

She shakes her head. “No, you don’t .”

“Huh? Why not ?”

“Things are... James, you’re in a lot of trouble.” She’s stroking my back now, slow and measured. “I need you to stay calm—don’t panic—but there’s a warrant for your arrest. I need to get you out of here, and it needs to be now .”

My arrest? What the fuck happened during those missing days? Surely I was too sick to create much mayhem. “I don’t understand .”

“I don’t, either—not completely. But we need to get you somewhere safe. Somewhere we can figure this out.” She tilts my head back so she can peer into my eyes. “Can you make it to the car ?”

The idea of getting in a car makes my stomach roil, but I nod anyway. Not like I have a choice. Not like I ever do, lately .

“Diana?”

“Hm?” She wraps an arm around my waist, helps me stand .

“Sorry. For everything .”

She kisses my forehead, quick and sweet. “Don’t worry about that right now .”

“I love you .”

“I love you, too—But if you don’t want to end up loving me from a cell, we need to get moving. Now . ”

I manage to stay upright all the way to the car. Diana, bless her, lays me out across the back seat. She’s even brought a blanket, and I snuggle into it gratefully. Last thing I’m aware of is the car swerving onto the street, taking us God knows where .