Page 112 of All The Ways to Miss You

“Room. Evan. Us. Before.” I’m numb with shock.

She guides me into the back seat. When the car door slams, she calls out her address. The driver presses on the gas and the cab launches forward. My head settles into the curve of Aggie’s neck where I quake as snot chokes me.

More time is lost; my body moves from one point to another without memory. She settles me on her couch, but I’m detached and floating outside myself and looking down. I hug myself when new tremors threaten. With my back rigid, I perch on the edge of the cushion, unable to relax in case I need to run again.

Aggie places a heavy quilt over my shoulders, weighing me down. A box of tissues appears on the shelf of my shaking knees. She settles beside me, winding an arm tightly around my back. She’s chaining me to her side so I can’t escape.

“You already know, don’t you?” I murmur, my words seeming remote. This is why she kept urging me to talk to Evan.

She confirms it with a nod.

“How long?” My lips press tightly together, straining.

“Since the day he came to the office. The pinhead spilled his guts while he was waiting for you to show up.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” I don’t want to believe I can’t trust Aggie too. She has to have a reason. I need her to have a reason.

She squeezes me tighter. “At first, I was in shock. I thought about telling you everything, but decided it wasn’t my place. When he told me everything from his side . . .” Her voice drifts, like she feels bad for him. “But I did give him a deadline, which he agreed to. If I thought it was a bad thing, like he was a stalker, I would have been all over his ass. But Evan? He’s a dumb dummy in love with you. I mean, look at him. Think about it. It makes sense. Everything makes sense.”

My mind explodes with a million unfolding images of us after. The night we spent together. All his fake love swaddled me like a cocoon. I even basked in it. Enjoyed it. I thought it was only pretend—a chance for us to connect to someone else for a brief time.

How could I know how much it meant to him? What it might have meant to me if I had known? But I know nothing of what we were before. Did we break up? How long did we date? Was he a good boyfriend? A bad one? Were we together when the shooting happened? If so, why wasn’t he there after? Where was he? Was he hurt too? Did my parents know? How come they never told me?

I shake my head, disregarding that first night and the barrage of questions. They don’t even matter, and I say the reason aloud. “I can’t believe someone could lie this way.”

“Do you remember him at all?”

“No.” And that’s the worst part. I just have to accept it’s true. The stress of not knowing my past worms its way back into my thoughts. This darkness has followed me for years, streaming behind like a dark cape, like Aggie’s cape. But now it’s invisible and tied around my neck, choking me. My shoulders rise and fall with my returning tears. I drop my face into my cupped palms.

“It’s okay. Let it out.”

We sit like this all afternoon. All day? I can’t be sure. Aggie calls into work for me the following week. Linden allows me additional leave. He tells me to take my time.

Another realization. Linden knows too. He’s known all along. He recruited me from halfway across the country himself. Interviewed me. Did he do it for Evan? Did Evan make him hire me? Do I even deserve the job I’m so proud of?

More betrayal.

My mind pings from one question to the next, analyzing every situation and motive. In between, it flickers, recalling every interaction Evan and I had since I moved here. When my body can’t take any more of the puzzle, I sleep. But those moments come in short spurts, just enough to carry me to the next session of contemplation. Each time I awaken with a new nagging question or concern.

When the dreams materialize, they come full force. The gate in my mind that swung open the day of the marathon releases more memories. Not of Evan, but of everything else. Each memory serves as a blob of colorful paint filling in a shape on a canvas. The more shapes I fill, the clearer the image of my life becomes. Still, one annoying spot remains untouched—a few years bridging my before to my after.

A key turns in the front doorknob. Aggie steps inside with a brown bag of groceries in her arms. I haven’t moved from the couch in who knows how long. Weeks? I’m unsure.

“Did you miss me?” She places the bag on the kitchen table.

“How was work?” I’m wary. Linden hasn’t given her the same free pass.

She jiggles her head, not committing to a positive or negative day. “Eh, been working on this charity auction thing with human resources that the company’s sponsoring. It’s nice to do something different, but it’s boring without you.”

She opens the fridge and places items on the shelves. Then she lifts a wrapped package from the grocery bag and skips toward me.

“I’m not sure I’ll return,” I tell her.

“Too bad, because everyone misses you.”

I fall back into the cushion and cover my eyes with my hand. I hadn’t yet considered what my coworkers know. I groan.

“Don’t worry, they think you’re on a much-needed vacation.”