This Story Might Save Your Life(75)

She adjusts her fuchsia eyeglasses with a frown and a nod, and it occurs to me with a belated twist of shame that my situation might affect the others here. I might even be endangering them. If someone leaks my whereabouts and this shelter makes it into the news, I’ll have compromised everyone’s safety. The expression on Gloria’s face all but confirms that she wishes for me to leave.

I don’t blame her at all.

But before I can surrender to my fate, her frown lifts. “Is there anything else I can do? Anything at all.”

My chest deflates with emotional whiplash as reality comes back into focus. We’re all hiding from dangerous people. That’s the whole point of this place. Gloria isn’t upset with me—she wants to help. Moved by her generosity, I cast about for words, voicing the first thought that pops into my head. “Is there—” My tongue is thick. “Is there any way to see a doctor?” It might be days before I’m able to return home, and I can’t wait any longer.

Gloria beams like I’ve just presented her with an award. “There is, in fact.” She explains that there’s a discreet doctor who works with the women here. She donates her services, and she won’t require any information I don’t want to provide. Gloria could arrange for me to be taken there first thing tomorrow.

“And it’s safe? It’s okay for me to do this?”

“We’ll make certain of it. Consider it done.”

Grateful tears fill my eyes. “Thank you.”

She nods, then disappears down the hall.



* * *



“YOU DIDN’T EAT your mulligatawny.”

I blink up at Mitali and then at my nightstand. The bowl is gone. My cheeks burn. She must have taken it away while I was sleeping. I didn’t even get around to emptying it. “I’m so sorry.”

“You need to eat.”

“I know. It’s just…” The thought of eating makes me sick. “Not now.”

She takes her usual spot at the foot of the bed. Studies me. I want to look away but find that I can’t. Gently, she says, “What are you going to do?”

I don’t understand her meaning until her gaze shifts to my belly.

“How…”

“Your secret is safe. Does anyone know?”

I sent my parents on a cruise to protect them from the fallout of the divorce, having no idea the world was going to end. I pushed everyone else away. I’ve done everything wrong.

“No one.”

“Not even Benny?”

It’s as if she’s laid bare my soul. “I couldn’t.”

“Because you were afraid?”

“It’s a long story.”

Mitali settles in beside me. “Go on, then.”

And so I do.

The truth is, I’d always intended to hide away this week. The plan was to send Benny the memoir through a series of clues—the whole memoir to date, not just the three chapters I shared with Xander when he insisted I show him what I was writing. Then I would record the episode letting our listeners know we were taking a break and hide out while Xander was served with papers. In that order. When the dust settled, I would return home so Benny and I could have a proper talk.

I knew it would take Benny a minute to “piece together” my clue, but he would eventually get it. I realized, though, as soon as I reread that final chapter, that I’d made a terrible mistake. So I snuck a note into Benny’s pocket: Meet me tonight. Here. 7pm sharp. Very important. Because he deserved to hear the truth in person. Deserved to record with me what could possibly be our final episode.

But the way he looked at me when I started to explain. I didn’t deserve for him to be looking at me that way, with so much love, not after all the secrets I’d kept. I wanted it, but I couldn’t convince myself that I deserved it.

I can’t imagine what he’s been going through these past few days.

“The police have told Benny by now, don’t you think?” I ask. “That I’m okay?”

“I’m sure they have.”

I hope she’s right. I need to believe she’s right. “I’ve always thought I’d be a much better survivor than this.”

“Well, this is an awful lot of surviving to have to do without your sword.”

I laugh, then abruptly close my mouth. My entire head goes hot.

“It’s okay,” she says. “Laughter is allowed.”

It’s nice of her to say, but it still feels wrong. Everything’s so turned around. “Have they written to you?”

She blinks down at me with her soft brown eyes.

“The police,” I say. “You said you gave them your email. In case they have any updates.”

“Oh.” She shakes her head. “Nothing. I promise I’ll let you know if I hear anything.”

I sink deeper into my pillow. “I don’t know how I can repay you. You’ve been so kind.”

“It’s the least I can do for my favorite podcaster. I’m honored you shared your story with me.” She squeezes my knee. “If you need anything, I’m just across the hall.”



* * *



IT’S SWELTERING OUTSIDE, and my hands are covered in dark, loamy soil. Potsie barks at the coyote down the hill as Carlotta and I plant vegetables in her garden. I dig a small hole, and she shakes her head. “Deeper.”