Mason brought in a tray with more of the lasagna he tried to give me last night, leveling me with a dark gaze.
“Please eat,” he requested. And then he left, closing the doors. He didn’t try to kiss me. Touch me. He barely looked at me other than to give me that dark look.
And it made me hate these doors. Because I feel so, so closed off from him right now. And yet I can’t seem to make myself do anything about it.
He came back half an hour later to make sure I ate. He didn’t say anything, just took the tray away. I had managed only half of it but that seemed to satisfy him. And I’m feeling like maybe I shouldn’t have eaten so that he’d then sit and spoon-feed me. And I could then connect with him. Talk to him. Ask him questions. Have him purr for me and make me feel like maybe everything will be okay. But maybe it won’t be okay.
And now I’m lying here alone in the dark, thinking over all of it. Feeling fear. Real fear that the thing that was offered to me, the thing that was in my grasp… the happiness … that it’s slipping through my fingers like water and I’m afraid I’m not going to be able to stop it from evaporating before my very eyes.
But I feel powerless to do anything. And it’s a feeling I detest. It’s the opposite of my nature to just sit back and do nothing. I just don’t know what I can do.
***
I bolt awake. Alone. Panicked.
It’s almost five o’clock in the morning again.
I go to the bathroom and then I try to go back to sleep. But I’m wide awake.
I need clean clothes. So does Mason. His laundry basket is overflowing. My bag is full of dirty clothes. I squish my clothes on top of his clothes in the basket and carry it out of the bedroom, opening the door slowly and peering over the banister. It’s all dark downstairs.
I know he has multiple bedrooms, but I don’t know which one he’s asleep in. The bedrooms on the second floor are unfurnished so he wouldn’t be in there. He’s not on the couch. I don’t find him in the basement, either. I start the coffee and then grab the basket of clothes from the kitchen and head down to the laundry room and dump the basket upside down.
First, I’ll do a dark load. Jeans.
I sift through the pockets before dropping them into the washing machine. It’s a habit because Rick often left Kleenex in his pockets and it’d go through the whole wash and make a mess.
I find some coins and a couple nuts and bolts as well as a half pencil in one of the pairs of Mason’s jeans. The next pair is empty. The third pair I come across has a business card in the pocket.
Vivica Young, Enchanting Enterprises.
I stare at it for a second. And something comes over me. Something very strong. Something very sure. Maybe an answer to the problems we have right now.
I take the business card upstairs to the master bedroom and lift my phone from the bedside table.
She answers on the first ring. “Hello?”
“Hi. Um… this is Amelia Brennan and I’m really, really sorry to call so early, but I think…” I’m at a loss for how to even begin.
“You need my help,” she says.
“Yeah.” God, my heart is racing. And I’m sweating. “I don’t know if you can help me. But… I’m wondering if it’s… gosh I feel stupid for asking, but is it possible to turn back time?”
“That’s not possible, Amelia.”
“Didn’t think so, but I had to try.”
“What’s wrong?” she asks.
“If I could turn back time I stop someone from seeing something. Never mind, it’s stupid. I just wish I could make someone forget something they saw,” I say.
“That’s something we might be able to do.”
I blow out a breath. “You might be able to erase a memory?”
“Maybe. Give me the details.”
I walk over to the window and look outside. A robin sits on the deck chair, looking at me. I think it’s one of the babies from the nest below the deck.
The bird tweets. And something comes over me. Another something strong and sure. Because maybe this can be fixed.
“But…” she says, “If it’s something we’re able to do, there’s always a cost.”
“A cost?” My heart drops.
“It’s how it works. It’s a matter of what the cost will be.”
I stare out at the lake, beyond the broken deck that he still hasn’t fixed, because I wouldn’t let him because of the baby birds. There’s a mess of stuff around the boats, including a bicycle that I hadn’t noticed.
“You can trust me,” she says. “It feels like… like you were meant to call me today.”