3
My name echoed in the distance—faintly at first and then again, louder . . .
“Olivia! Wake up.”
With a hand on my arm, my eyes flew open to darkness. I vaulted into a sitting position. “Bill?” I wheezed.
“Shh, sweetie,” I heard. “It’s me. Gretchen. Were you having a nightmare?”
I closed my eyes and reclined back onto Gretchen’s bed. “Mhm.”
“What about?”
“I don’t remember.” I rubbed my eyes. “I have them sometimes. About the attack in my office.”
“Mark Alvarez?” she asked. “I didn’t know that.”
“Alvarez restrains me as he threatens payback for Bill. But this nightmare was different. Bill was in it, too.”
She stroked my shoulder. “Is there any news about Alvarez?”
“He’s behind bars, and he’s not going anywhere. But it’s hard to forget what his hands felt like on me.”
I woke up several times after that, half-expecting Bill, other times David, but confused when I found Gretchen.
Was Bill confused, too, tossing and turning in an empty bed? He’d be angry. Sad. Embarrassed. But for some reason, picturing him waking up confused made my throat thicken. I lay staring at the ceiling as the room brightened with the rising sun until Gretchen stirred eventually.
“I’m worried about Bill,” I said.
She yawned and rubbed her eyes before flipping on her side to face me. “Should I ask Andrew to check on him?”
“Would you?” I didn’t mind asking for a favor since Bill and Andrew, Lucy’s husband, were close. “I don’t think Lucy wants to talk to me.”
“Sure. I’ll call on our way to work.”
We got ready together and headed to a café down the street. After putting in an order at the counter, Gretchen called Lucy, who told her that Andrew would go by my—Bill’s—apartment. Lucy didn’t want to speak to me however. And considering Gretchen stopped mid-sentence during her update on how I was doing, it appeared that Lucy didn’t care to hear about me.
Gretchen hung up and assured me again that Lucy would come around, but I wasn’t so sure. I’d stomped on her values, everything she believed in, and the vows she and Andrew had just taken. It hurt to think that I’d tainted the meaning of love and commitment for Lucy in a similar way my parents had for me. And to realize that I might lose friends in addition to a husband. But even though I was still laden with grief, doubt, fear . . . remembering why I’d done it—to actively pursue happiness, love, and passion—brought a certain lightness, too.
“So what’re you going to do about a living situation?” Gretchen asked as we waited for our coffee drinks.
“Trying to get rid of me?” I teased.
“You know you can stay at our apartment as long as you want,” she said. “Between work and our social lives, my roommates and I are hardly there anyway.”
“I don’t know if Bill would appreciate my breaking up our marriage for one long sleepover at your place.”
“Touché. So?” she asked. “What are you going to do?”
I sighed as a barista passed us our drinks. We left the café and started toward the train. “David and I made plans to spend the weekend together,” I said, cupping a hand around my latte’s comforting heat. “So we’re starting with breakfast tomorrow. I haven’t really thought beyond Sunday.”
Ugh.Apartment hunting. Something I never thought I’d have to do again. I grimaced. “I guess I should start looking for my own place.”
“Like, your own apartment?” Gretchen asked. “What about David?”
“What about him?”
She nudged me with her elbow. “Don’t tell me you haven’t thought about moving in with him.”
