Page 95 of All The Ways to Miss You

He shuffles some papers on his desk. They’re scans of her medical records, something else that cost him a pretty penny.

“My doctor friend explained these to me. She has a brain injury. There’s very little blood flow to the right temporal lobe. That’s where memory’s stored. They’ll keep testing her to better understand her situation, but as it stands now, the area is swollen from a fall she took after . . .”

After she was shot.

I clasp my hands together and twist them tight in my lap. I’m thinking things I shouldn’t—things I never would have before now. If the shooter wasn’t dead already, I’d kill him myself.

Linden clears his throat. “If the swelling recedes, memories may return. But the memories right before the trauma could be lost forever, meaning she may not remember the hours, days, or even a few years leading to the event. Only time will tell.”

I reach for my phone, open a browser, and bring up an airline’s website.

“Hold on.” Linden raises his hand.

I need to do something, need to make things how they were before. I don’t have time to analyze and discuss. More than anything, I need to reverse and force us back on track. Even if it’s impossible, I need to search for a way.

“Besides the possibility of jail time, let’s imagine you have a chance to talk to her. What do you say? How do you explain you’re her boyfriend, that you lived together for years. And even though she doesn’t remember you, that you’re in love?”

My face heats and my nose burns. Fucking tears prick my eyes. I thought I was dried out, but they’re threatening again. I understand what Linden’s saying, but I don’t like it, not one bit.

“She’ll be scared and overwhelmed. Can you imagine her in a scenario where she’s not in control?” he asks.

Furious with myself, I shake my head. She’s a control freak, to an extreme. I’ve been too selfish, thinking about myself, not Cait.

As much as it shatters my heart, it may not be the right time to face her. A fight with her family may not win me any points if I need to convince her we belong together.

Will I have to make her fall in love with me again? Oh, God. It’s no small miracle it happened the first time, and that was with Steph’s help. Steph, not fate. I cover my eyes with my hands, holding back the grief of losing two of the closest people in my life.

This time will be different. All the things Cait and I shared—all the jokes, the banter, the vacations, holidays, and lazy days spent in bed—are gone. They only live in my mind now.

“She’s probably scared. I can’t believe I won’t be there for her,” I say. My leg’s bouncing. I bite my nail and stare off beyond the window toward the river, imagining what she’s going through.

Linden joins me and places an hand on my shoulder. “It isn’t over. It’s a pause. Possibly a very short one.”

Understanding, I nod, but I need to do this my way.

Against Linden’s wishes, I buy the airline ticket. That night I land at Reagan National, rent a car, and drive to the Londons’ home in Potomac, Maryland. I have to see for myself where she is. I have to know she’s safe and taken care of. Even if I have no plans to see her while I’m here, I have to give her a place in my mind to live while she’s not with me. It doesn’t matter if it’s three days or three weeks; I have to know.

I keep my distance, parking far enough away that no one will notice me, but close enough to see. In the clear night, every room of the Londons’ mansion is lit. Floodlights highlight tall columns, steep gables, and little spiral topiaries that line the circular drive. It’s like a storybook. My Sleeping Beauty in her castle. Cait’s told me about it before, but I’ve never seen it for myself. By her description, I have a general idea of which room belongs to her, somewhere on the second floor near the garage.

I want more than anything to leave my car to find her. If only I could reach out and take her in my arms like before. But how long will I have to wait to do that again? To feel her body in my embrace and whisper how much I love her?

In the darkness behind my car, red and white lights pop on with a quick whoop of a siren, and what’s left of my broken heart freezes. Two police officers step out of their cruiser and approach with flashlights that blind my eyes.

forty-four

Three years ago

It’s been two years. We’ve been fighting the agreement in court. I’ve been in jail twice for breaking a new restraining order. The second time was for sixteen months.

I haven’t worked since Cait left. I’m not even sure I’ve showered since she left. I can’t remember the last time I ate, left the apartment, or saw Linden. Sometimes I don’t even leave the couch. Food magically appears in my fridge.

I have a sense that Linden hired someone to look after me, but I can’t be sure. Sometimes my bedsheets smell cleaner than they should, and I find clothes I left on the floor hung in my closet or folded in drawers.

Life feels fake without Cait.

I sit in front of my TV, transfixed by her image. Her hair is shorter, a long bob. She’s wearing a boxy suit her mom probably picked for her. She’s slimmer, her muscles softened, no doubt, from the arduous battle of recovery. Does she still run? Can she?

Even though she looks different, I can’t peel my gaze away. It’s the first time I’ve seen her since that day in the hospital when I gave her the engagement ring, the one she’s not wearing.