She shook her head. A deep blue space in her mind. Driving a car on a mountain road, but from where and toward what?
A nurse, a male nurse with a kind voice. “Here is a pen. You can draw and write down anything you remember about who you are.”
Regan remembered the pay phone at her elementary school. Cool plastic in her hand. Her finger on cold metal. She remembered the pay phone at the bad place Mr. Ragdale had taken her. If she pressed the square buttons, she could go home. The number of her landline. If she had a quarter, she could call her mom. She did not know who or where she was, but she knew her home number by heart.
59
Cord
Cord found a half bottleof Harveys Bristol Cream, which he drank from his grandmother’s sherry glasses as he munched on Cheetos (when had Charlotte bought Cheetos?). He lay on a chaise longue and watched people play golf from Charlotte’s patio. Did he care what they might think of him in his mother’s pink bathrobe? He did not. He brought all of the old photo albums outside and paged through them, sipping daintily.
One of the newer albums was a testament to his own career. Charlotte, it seemed, had cut every clipping ever printed about Cord’s VC firm. Snorting, he read an interview where he explained, “My father died of a sudden heart attack.” After Winston’s death, Cord told the interviewer, he’d learned to multitask to help his mom and siblings, and this attention to detail had served him well in the tech sector.
Lee and Charlotte had kept Winston’s suicide a secret for decades! It was fucked-up and unhealthy, but also (honestly) impressive. The women in his family were fierce as hell, stubborn as mules. Charlotte had even cemented her fake narrative in a Walgreens photo album. Charlotte was a piece of work!
In the kitchen, Charlotte’s wall phone rang. Cord knew it was creditors. He ignored it. Cord refilled a sherry glass and gazed athis mom’s ancient magnolia trees. It was true that his nervous nature made him a good businessman. If you can’t rest, you won’t fuck up. Cord had made a work life where everyone and everything depended on him. Until this week!
His mind returned to the glow he’d felt earlier when he’d examined the pictures of Regan looking at him proudly.I was such a good big brother,he told himself sadly, drunkenly. Something about working through sherry in his grandmother’s tiny crystal glasses made him especially maudlin.
The wall phone would not stop ringing! Cord heaved himself up from the chaise, went inside through the screen door, and picked up the receiver. “Hel-lo?” he said.
“Hello?”
“Regan?” Cord felt a shock of joy hearing his little sister’s voice. “Regan!” he said.
“I need to come home now,” said Regan, her voice a frightened monotone.
“What’s going on, Reeg?”
“I’m done now and I need a ride home.”
60
Lee
“Lee,” said Markos, “your sisterhas been found.”
“Is she—”
“She is alive. Critical condition. She’s been in a coma at Burhan Nalbantoglu State Hospital. Your sister had no ID when hikers saw her car below the road between Kyrenia and Bellapais; the Turkish side of Cyprus. Turkish authorities don’t cooperate directly with Greek police. She gained consciousness and called someone in your family who was able to identify her. They’re arranging transport to Athens.”
61
Hospital Report
SOTIRIA GENERAL HOSPITAL
Department of Emergency Medicine /Τμ?μαΕπε?γουσαςΙατρικ?ς
PATIENT MEDICAL REPORT /ΙΑΤΡΙΚΗΕΚΘΕΣΗΑΣΘΕΝΟΥΣ
Patient name /?νομαΑσθενο?ς: WILLINGHAM, Regan Marie
Age/Ηλικ?α: 42
Nationality /Εθνικ?τητα: American/Αμερικαν?δα
ID / Passport /Διαβατ?ριο: USA 598447329
