“No…” My stomach sinks. “Are you saying that he usually gives me a phone?”
She hesitates. “No, not at all. That’s not what I’m saying.”
But Lucy is a terrible liar. Whenever she’s lying, her whole face turns as red as her hair. I’m beginning to think that I did have a phone. And for whatever reason, Graham decided he didn’t want me to have it anymore.
And then that memory comes back to me. A little tiny snippet of Harry’s voice whispering in my ear.
Graham has a desk upstairs. There’s a drawer that’s always locked, and you said you think that’s where he’s keeping whatever he’s giving you.
My head snaps back, shaken by the memory that just came back to me. Is that real? Or is it a figment of the imagination of my damaged brain? After all, the letter I wrote to myself claimed I hadn’t seen Harry in years.
But it felt like a real memory. It’s the first memory I’ve had today that has felt real. That has to mean something.
“Lucy, does Graham have an office upstairs?” I ask.
“Uh, yeah. He does.”
I lean back against the couch, not sure what to think. Is there something upstairs locked in Graham’s desk drawer that I should know about? If so, what?
Is there a reason I keep losing my memory every night, beyond my head injury?
No. It can’t be. My husband isn’t drugging me. I can’t believe that could be true.
Could it?
Chapter 30
The weather is beautiful so Lucy and I decide to walk Ziggy around the neighborhood. I feel a bit self-conscious in my jeans and sweater next to Lucy in her creamy silk blouse and pencil skirt that’s just a bit too short, but it’s not like anybody is going to be staring at us. Anyway, I would feel ridiculous walking the dog in what she’s wearing.
“Ziggy is such a good dog,” Lucy comments as he bounds ahead of us, overjoyed to be outside. I feel the same way. That house is so stifling. “He’s so good for you.”
“When did I get him?” I love Ziggy so much, it feels hard to believe that I haven’t owned him my whole life.
“About a year ago—around when you got hurt.” She pats her red hair. “Ziggy. Interesting name for a dog.”
I keep my eyes ahead of me, avoiding Lucy’s gaze. Did she know the name of Harry’s bird? I have no idea. “I love the comic strip.”
“Do you?” There’s a note of skepticism in her voice, and my stomach flips. But then she laughs. “I suppose comic strips are the easiest thing for you to read these days, since they’re so short!”
“Mmm.”
We walk in silence after that, only broken by Ziggy panting and Lucy’s heels clacking against the sidewalk. My sneakers don’t make a sound. We reach the park a few blocks from my house and start doing a lap around it.
“Honestly,” Lucy says, “this isn’t so bad, Tess. You have a good life, despite everything.”
I bite the inside of my cheek. I don’t know how she could say something like that. Nobody would want to trade places with me. I do not have a good life. Not anymore.
“I mean, look at you,” she goes on. “You get to hang out all day in a pair of comfy jeans and a sweater, Graham takes care of you, you don’t have to work or do anything besides watch a little TV and walk your dog.” She looks pointedly at my midsection. “You don’t have to worry about your weight or working out.”
I clutch my belly self-consciously. I didn’t think I had gained much weight in the last decade. Although I certainly don’t look as toned as Lucy does. Suddenly, I remember a comment Harry once made about Lucy:
She never passes up an opportunity to put you down.
Even at the time, I knew it wasn’t entirely untrue. But I always shrugged it off.
“I’m just saying.” Lucy’s smile stretches the corners of her lips. “Things could be way worse. You have it pretty good.”
“Lucy,” I say, “I don’t think…”
Before I can get the words out, my lips freeze. My mind goes blank. Everything around me fades and goes white, like I’ve fallen into a trance. And instead of being on the street outside my house, I’m somewhere completely different.
I’m in a small room, sitting on a stool, staring at my reflection in a vanity mirror. My hair is pulled back from my face except for small tendrils that fall around my cheeks, and I’m wearing a white lacy dress.
“Just think, Tess…” It’s Lucy’s voice. I look up and she’s next to me, wearing a puffy lavender frock. “In a few minutes, you’re going to be walking down the aisle. You’re going to be Mrs. Graham Thurman.”