“You want to watch me sleep?”
He laughs. “If you put it like that, it sounds creepy. I’m offering to stay and make sure you’re okay.”
I don’t really love the idea, but it’s getting late and I’m running out of options. Adrian seems convinced there’s one or more pictures missing from the sequence—and with Teddy away for the whole day, someone needs to volunteer their time and hands, so Anya can finish telling her story.
“What if I fall asleep and nothing happens?”
“I could wait an hour and slip out the door. Or if you prefer I could—” He shrugs. “I could stay until morning.”
“I don’t want to sleep with you tonight. It’s too soon.”
“I know, Mallory. I just want to help. I’ll crash on your floor.”
“Plus I’m not allowed to have overnight guests. It’s one of the House Rules.”
“But you’ve already been fired,” Adrian reminds me. “I don’t think we need to play by their rules anymore.”
* * *
We stop at Walgreens so Adrian can pick up a toothbrush. The store has a tiny stationery section so we also pick up a sketch pad, a box of pencils, and a thick Sharpie marker. Maybe it’s not everything that Anya would prefer, but she’ll have to make do.
We arrive at the cottage, and I feel obligated to give Adrian a tour, which takes all of three seconds.
“This is nice,” he says.
“I know. I’m going to miss it.”
“Don’t give up hope yet. I think this plan has a good chance of working.”
I put on some music and then we spend a good hour talking, because what we’re about to attempt feels so awkward. If I’d brought Adrian home to sleep with him, I’d know exactly what to do. But instead we’re getting ready to do something that feels even more intimate and personal.
By midnight I’ve finally built up the courage to go to bed. I go into the bathroom and change into soft gym shorts and an old Central High T-shirt. I floss and brush my teeth, I wash my face and put on moisturizer. And then I hesitate before opening the door because I feel a little silly, like I’m presenting myself in my underwear. I wish I had nicer pajamas, something prettier than a tattered high school T-shirt with little holes all around the neck.
When I exit the bathroom, I see that Adrian has already turned down the covers for me. All the lights are off except for a small lamp beside the bed. The sketch pad and pencils are on the nightstand—within easy reach if I’m seized by inspiration, or something else.
Adrian is standing in the kitchen with his back to me, reaching into the refrigerator for a can of seltzer. He doesn’t notice me until I’m standing right behind him. “I think I’m ready.”
He turns around and smiles. “You look ready.”
“I hope this isn’t too boring for you.”
He shows me his phone. “I’ve got Call of Duty Mobile. I’ll be rescuing hostages in Uzbekistan.”
I stand on my tiptoes and give him a kiss. “Good night.”
“Good luck,” he says.
I get into bed and get under the covers, and Adrian settles into a chair at the far end of the cottage. With the ceiling fan spinning and the noisy crickets chirping outside my window, I’m barely aware of Adrian’s presence. I turn on my side and face the wall. After two long and exhausting days, I realize I’m not going to have any trouble falling asleep. As soon as I rest my face on my pillow, I feel all my stress ebbing away; I feel my muscles relaxing, my body letting go. And even with Adrian just a few feet away, it’s the first night in a long time when I don’t feel like I’m being watched.
I remember only one of my dreams. I’m in the Enchanted Forest, lying on a path of hard-packed earth and looking up at the black night sky. My legs are off the ground. A shadowy figure is pulling me by the ankles, dragging my body through a bed of dry leaves. My arms are raised up and over my head. I can feel my fingers grazing past rocks and roots but I’m unable to grasp them; it’s like I’m paralyzed and I’m unable to stop what’s happening.
And then I’m looking up from the bottom of a hole; it’s like I’ve fallen to the bottom of a well. My body has been twisted into a pretzel. My left arm is pinned beneath my back and my legs are splayed wide open. I know it ought to hurt more than it does, but somehow I’m in my body and out of my body at the same time. High above me, there’s a man looking down into the hole. Something soft and small strikes my chest. It falls away and I see that it’s a toy, a child’s stuffed bunny rabbit. It’s followed by a stuffed bear and a small plastic ball. “I’m sorry,” the man says, and his voice sounds hollow, like he’s talking underwater. “I am so, so sorry.”