“A little,” I admit.
Camila thinks about it for a second, then she reaches for her purse, which is lying on the back of her chair. She rifles around until she comes up with her cell phone. It looks identical to mine, even though I am apparently very rich and Camila can’t be nearly as affluent. Maybe these iPhones are more common than they used to be.
She messes with her phone for a few seconds, then she slides it across the table to me. The screen features a color photograph—a picture of me and Camila, which looks like she took it while holding the phone in the air. Her arm is slung around my shoulders, and we’re both smiling. And I look…
Happy. Actually happy. I can see it in my eyes.
“I took that a few months ago,” she tells me. “Just so you know I’m not lying about knowing you for a year.” Her plump lips twitch. “And so you believe that you don’t hate me usually.”
“I believe you.”
“Sure.”
I do believe Camila. But that doesn’t change the fact that I need to shake her at the dog park.
I finish the last bites of my sandwich just as Camila finishes hers. She stands up to take our plates to the kitchen, but I beat her to it. I grab her plate and mine and bring them over to the sink. At least I can feel useful by clearing the table and loading the dishes in the dishwasher.
And while I’m at the sink, I reach into my pocket. I check the numbers written on my arm, then type them into my phone. I send off a quick text message:
Leaving soon for the dog park.
The reply comes almost instantly:
I’ll be there.
Chapter 10
Ziggy is almost deliriously happy to be going to the dog park. Like “backyard,” he seems to recognize the words, and he pants happily at the idea of it. I guess he’s a social dog. Although just about everything seems to excite him. I wish I had a tenth of his happiness.
We’re taking the car to the supermarket, and we’re going to stop at the dog park on the way. It seems crazy to take the car five blocks, but we’ll need it to get all the groceries home.
It’s frustrating that I can’t drive. I always liked to drive. I love the feeling of the steering wheel under my fingers and my foot on the gas pedal as music blasts on the radio. I wonder if there’s any chance I’ll be able to drive again in the future. It doesn’t seem likely. The thought of it would probably make me depressed, but it’s hard to feel too sad when Ziggy is bouncing around and licking me.
Camila attaches Ziggy’s leash to his collar, and we’re about to head out the door when she stops short. She reaches into her purse and pulls out her phone. She stands there, reading a message off the screen.
“Oh,” she says. “Graham’s going to be home early.”
I force a smile. “Great.”
By the time I see him, I’ll have sorted out what’s going on here. I’ll have met the mysterious stranger at the dog park and I’ll finally have some answers. For better or worse.
“So we better just go straight to the supermarket then,” Camila says. “You can take Ziggy to the dog park later with Graham.”
My heart sinks. “But… Ziggy is ready to go…”
She shrugs. “I’m sorry. You’ll have to go later with Graham.”
With Graham? No, that definitely won’t work.
“Can’t you drop me off at the dog park while you go shopping?”
She shakes her head. “I can’t do that. It’s not safe.”
A muscle twitches in my jaw. “It’s not safe? I’m a grown woman. What do you think I’m going to do?”
Camila’s pretty brown eyes darken. “It’s my job to stay with you today. We’re going shopping together, then you’ll go to the dog park later. Got it?”
I open my mouth to protest, but then I realize it’s pointless. I won’t convince Camila of anything. But once she unlocks that door, there’s not much she can do. She can’t tackle me to keep me from walking away from her. I’ll pretend to go shopping with her, but then when I’m at the supermarket, I’ll just leave.
“Fine,” I say.
Camila rubs her chin, studying my face. Finally, she nods. “All right, then. Let’s get going.”
I never asked what season it is, but I surmised from all the leaves in our backyard that it must be early fall. Camila opens up the hall closet and hands me a gray zip-up sweater. The feel of the sweater is so soft in my hands, I want to wrap my whole body in it. I want to bathe in this sweater. I check the label.
“Cashmere!”
Camila snorts. “It sure is.”
I look at the sweater, almost too intimidated to put it on. “I can’t afford cashmere.”
“Of course you can. You guys are rich.”
I think back to all of those articles I read about my company. About how well it was doing. I still can’t quite wrap my head around it. It feels like it must be some sort of mistake.
Either way, I already own this sweater. So I may as well put it on.
Ziggy seems heartbroken that we’re not taking him with us on our trip. I’m not sure who feels worse about it—him or me. Camila unlocks the front door with the key around her neck, and I observe her carefully, noticing the shape of the key. There’s got to be a spare key around here somewhere. They wouldn’t risk being trapped here if there were a fire or something.
Camila drives a rusty green Nissan that’s parked out in front of the house. As we walk out to her car, I wonder what she would do if I took off running. Would she chase me? Call the police? In any case, I don’t think it would be a great idea to make a scene in my own neighborhood. I’ll get away from her at the supermarket, which is only a short walk from the dog park.
“So how does it usually work when we go shopping?” I ask as I buckle myself in. “Do I have to follow you around?”
Camila starts up the car, which makes a strange crunching noise. It doesn’t instill a lot of confidence in me. But I’m already brain damaged—what’s the worst that could happen? “You usually grab a basket and do your own shopping.”
“Except I won’t remember what I bought by tomorrow.”