“Hi, Leah,” he said.
“Do you — “ I caught myself before I could say anymore. I wouldn’t question whether he knew me or not — no — that would surely paint me as an uncertainty. I would simply assert who I was to him and demand that he mentally accept it.
“I’m your girlfriend. It’s weird having to explain that to you.”
He smiled — the old Caleb smile. I released the breath I was holding. God, I needed a cigarette.
I neared the side of his bed. He was pretty banged up. There were five stitches over his right eye and his face looked like a Kandinsky.
“I was so scared,” I said. “I came right away.”
He nodded and looked down at his hands. “Thank you.”
The muscles were working in his jaw as he ground his teeth. I blinked at him, unsure of what to say next. Did we start at square one? Did I give him a summary of who we were, where we’d been?
Be still my manic heart.
“Can I … can I hug you?” I shook as I waited for his answer. They were tremors of fear, a calculation of the loss I’d feel if he rejected me.
He looked up, his brows furrowed, and nodded. It was one of those great moments of relief I would always remember. My internal knots untangled and I dove at him, wrapping my arms around his neck and sobbing into his chest. For a few seconds, it was just me holding him, and then I felt his hands rest lightly on my back. I cried harder. This was so messed up. I should be comforting him, and here I was weeping.
If he had died … oh God … I would have been all alone. His mother had told me that the driver of the car had died. I’d met him once or twice at Caleb’s work functions.
When I pulled away from him, I couldn’t meet his eyes. I grabbed a wad of tissues from my purse and turned my back to him as I dabbed at my eyes.
I had to keep it together. Think positive. Soon this would be over and buried into our past. For now, I needed to be there for him. We were so good together. Even if he had no memory of before, he would see it now. I needed to make him see it. I stifled a sob. Why did this have to happen? Right when our relationship had finally been moving forward.
“Leah.”
I froze. My name sounded foreign on his voice, like he was saying it for the first time, tonguing the syllables cautiously. I dabbed at the last of my tears and faced him … smiling.
“Are you…? God…” He balled his fists when he saw my wet eyes. “I’m so sorry.”
He looked like he was about to cry, so I sat on the edge of his bed, seeing my opportunity to be of some use.
“Don’t worry about me,” I said. “I’m fine so long as you’re fine.”
He frowned. “I’m not fine.”
“Then, neither am I, but we’re in this together.”
Chapter Fifteen Present
I am in the living room, flipping through Vogue while Caleb cooks dinner. The baby is sleeping upstairs, and the television is on some grody news station, playing just loud enough so Caleb can hear it. I am thinking about changing the channel to put on America’s Next Top Model, when I hear her name. My head snaps up. Olivia Kaspen. Her picture is on the screen, as she stands surrounded by reporters. I grab for the remote, not to turn it up, but to change the channel before Caleb can see it.
“Don’t,” I hear from behind me. I squeeze my eyes shut. Shrugging, I increase the volume. The newscaster is female. I once read a statistic that said sixty percent of men tune out female newscasters. Unfortunately for me, Caleb is not one of those men. He edges closer to the TV, the knife still in his hand. His knuckles are white. My eyes trace up his arm and rest on his face. From his nose down, his features are marble. Everything above that is registering emotion on a nuclear level. His eyebrows are drawn and his eyes look like a loaded gun ready to go off at any moment. I transfer my gaze to the television, afraid that if I keep watching him, I’ll start crying.
“The trial for Dobson Scott Orchard will begin next week. His attorney, Olivia Kaspen, who up until this point has been mum about her client, recently made a statement, saying she took the case after the accused kidnapper and serial rapist contacted her directly, asking her to represent him. It is highly speculated that Olivia, who received her undergraduate degree from the same college as one of his victims, will be issuing a plea of “Not Guilty by Reason of Insanity.”