I switch on the light. It isn’t...terrible. A wave of familiarity sweeps over me, and for an instant, I can’t breathe. Or maybe that’s the stench.
Shutting the door behind me, I walk inside with William. I feel okay. It’s quiet. And it smells. But...I shouldn’t have avoided this. I really am a melodramatic idiot sometimes.
I fetch a few garbage bags from under the sink, and we heave out the fruit that rotted on the counter, three quarters of the contents of the refrigerator, and several desiccated plants. Together, we carry them out to the Dumpster. As William lifts the lid, I automatically glance around for any stray kids or feral dogs. There aren’t any.
Inside again, he fetches cleaning supplies—he must have spotted them under the sink with the trash bags. “You don’t have to do this,” I tell him. “I’m fine now that the initial moment has passed.”
“You shouldn’t have to do it alone.”
I don’t argue with him.
Together, we clean the apartment. It isn’t a big apartment: galley kitchen that is (or was) stuffed with plants, living plus dining room that’s stuffed with artwork (mostly old), my bedroom, Mom’s bedroom, and one bathroom. Lots of books overflow the shelves. I wonder if William is itching to alphabetize them. They’re sorted mostly by...well, I don’t think they’re sorted at all. Books I like tend to be on shelves closer to my room, and books Mom likes tend to be closer to hers. Our personal favorites or current reads are piled up or under our bedside tables. As I finish cleaning the bathroom, I find William studying my paintings over the couch.
“These are beautiful,” he says. “Do you still do art?”
“Yes.” None of the art here was done in the past five years. But yes. That’s my answer.
“You asked me for flaws. I don’t have any hobbies outside of work. Zero. Well, I go to the gym, but that’s a side effect of too much medical school. You can’t constantly order patients to stay in shape and constantly see the side effects of not doing it and then not go yourself.”
My art is not a hobby,I want to say.It’s me.But technically,hobbyis the right word. I have...or had...a job that had nothing to do with art. I don’t have a gallery. I don’t sell it. Or even show it. Of course it’s a hobby. “I took a break from it for a while. But I’m starting again.”
He nods. “You did the sketches in your mom’s hospital room. They’re interesting.”
I flinch at the wordinteresting.That was Peter’s word. Goddammit, I have to stop thinking about a man who doesn’t exist and a place that isn’t real!
“I know zero about art, but you’re talented. Your mother used to talk about how you’d given it up... She must be happy you’re drawing again.”
I nod.Do not think about the art barn.
“Are you going to be okay here tonight?” He winces again. He does that expression a lot, I notice. It’s rather adorable for someone so handsome to be so self-conscious. “I know, I have this massive maternal streak.”
“I would have gone with ‘savior complex.’”
He smiles. “Yeah, that sounds much more manly. Anyway, I had a good time tonight.”
“You scrubbed a kitchen floor and threw out plants that had rotted. I’m guessing that’s not quite what you envisioned.”
“I like surprises.”
“Really?”
“No, not at all. But I liked tonight.” He crosses to me and takes my hands. “I know this is a difficult time for you. I know I have terrible timing.” I like the feel of my hands in his.
“It could be worse timing,” I say. “I could still be in a coma.”
He smiles, and I feel warm inside.He’s real,I remind myself.This is real.
I let him kiss me.
After a few seconds, I kiss him back.
Clinging to him, I kiss him as if he could ground me, anchor me, make this all feel real. I want to erase my false memories and start again.
But when I close my eyes, I think of Peter.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Alone in the apartment, I don’t sleep well. But somehow I drift off by dawn and then sleep through my alarm. I lurch out of bed when my eyes do at last open. William is due in ten minutes. When he left last night, he offered to come back and drive me to the hospital today. I hurry to my dresser to pick out clothes, and I freeze.
