“No, I—” Panicked, his eyes jump from one corner of the room to the other. “I didn’t do anything. I’ve never even met her!”
“Seems she’s met you! And what the fuck is that smell?” I wrinkle my nose and lean closer, sniffing his shirt before I pull back with a scowl. “Bathe ineu de stankbefore you came here?”
“You don’t like it?” He sniffs himself. “It’s new.”
“I told you it was bad.” Eliza pushes the cage door open and skips down the steps, snagging a towel and wrapping it over her shoulders. “New is not always better, Clifford. And that cologne reeks.” She comes to a stop in front of me and meets my eyes. “That went well, don’t you think?”
“It’s the senses, right?” Chris—not sweaty, not bleeding—wanders across in shorts, but no shirt. “Smells can sometimes elicit a remembered emotional response, even if she can’t remember the memory that goes with it, right?”
“Yeah.” I look to the door, then back to Cliff. Frowning, I look to the doorway again. Then back around. “Fuck. That was an emotional response, huh?”
“I’ll go shower it off.” He’s a sensitive soul. He’s a good fuckin’ guy, even if he pisses me off because he likes to flirt with my sister. But he dashes toward his bag and tears the zipper open. “I’m gonna grab all new shorts and a hoodie from the merch cabinet, Tommy. That way none of it smells like me. I’ll pay you later.”
Wordless, Tommy only nods.
“That wasn’t a promising start,” Eliza murmurs. “How’s she expect to live a normal life if smelling someone’s shitty aftershave can send her like…” She gestures toward the hallway. “That?”
“She’s trying! She came here, Lize, even when she was really fuckin’ scared.”
“I can’t stand the scent of my father’s aftershave,” Chris rumbles. “I hate the sound of a branch snapping. Hell, I break out in a cold sweat if it’s dark and a door creaks open.” He looks down at Eliza, glowering. “These things trigger me. Rose cries, I fight and break someone else’s bones. Just because my emotional response doesn’t come with tears doesn’t make it any more socially acceptable. Mine’s worse, ‘cos I’m out here physically assaulting people, but we call it a sport and pretend it’s okay.”
“I hate the smell of bourbon.” Tommy steps out of the cage and snags a towel, wiping the sweat from his face. “And if I smell dope in the air ever again, it’ll be too soon. Last time I had anemotional reaction, I broke a man’s neck, put him back in his car, and told his bitch girlfriend to start driving.” He stops two feet away and meets my eyes. “We’re all broken here, Ol. She’s in good company.”
“I should go find her.” I drag my hand through my hair. “This wasn’t a good start.”
“Give her a minute,” he murmurs. “She’s with Alana and Fox. I swear, there’s nothing those two can’t do once they put their minds to it.
ROUND TWENTY-FIVE
ROSE
“Cliff is the sweetest, gentlest person I’ve ever met.” Alana passes her baby into Fox’s waiting arms, then she meanders my way, her approach playing out in the mirror in front of me. “He wouldn’t hurt a fly. And though I know you don’t know me, so you have no reason to believe me, I’m saying, I’d bet my life on it. Cliff isn’t your enemy.”
“I’m so stupid. So ridiculous.” I fold over the glistening white sink. “I just made an idiot of myself. And it’s just?—”
“You’re recovering from trauma.” She comes to a stop on my left and carefully places her hand on my shoulder. Even when I flinch, she smiles. Even when my tears grow heavier, she stays put. “You’re allowed to feel however you’re feeling. That’s not wrong.”
“We don’t even know if my name is Rose!” I shove away from the sink and stalk the length of the five-stall bathroom. “It’s a dumb name I latched on to because of a movie I watched.”
“It’s your name if you want it to be.” Fox taps Hazel’s button nose, smiling at the happy baby. “My name is Fox, which can sound kinda weird sometimes. If I wanted a different name, would you think me ridiculous?”
“No. Of course not.”
“Even if I didn’t change my name legally? Just told you all to call me Bridget from now on?”
Alana scrunches her nose. “Bridget?”
Fox waves her off. “The point is, maybe your name is Rose, or maybe it’s Rebecca or Samantha or Gloria, or,” she glances down at the baby, “maybe it’s Hazel. But if youpreferthe name Rose, then that’s what youcan call yourself. If, at the end of all this, your memory comes back and you realize your name was Julia, but you still want to be called Rose, then guess what?”
“We’ll call you Rose,” Alana finishes. “It doesn’t make you ridiculous to use a name thatfeelsright. And if anyone has a problem with that, you tell me and I’ll goPlainview-Alanaon their asses.”
“Why are you even being nice to me?” I spin back with fat, wet tears on my cheeks. “Do you know who came by Oliver’s house today?”
Clueless,obviously, the women exchange looks.
“Barbara! That old woman who hit me.”
Alana gasps. “She didn’t!”
