I shut my eyes and rubbed my temples. Thoughts spun around in my head until I felt like it would explode. What was happening here? As I steadied myself, my thoughts turned sober. “You know nothing about me, of the family I come from or what I might have done in the past. Who knows what I could have been? Maybe even a criminal. I’m not sure you could cope with that. It’s hard enough for me.”
“It doesn’t matter. What matters is who you are now. And who you are now is beautiful, intelligent, and kind. That’s all I need to know. Don’t run away from me. Let me be the someone you’re connected to.”
So I gave in to him and the whirlwind romance. We spent almost every day together after that. The first time I went over to his condo, which is in a restored nineteenth-century building in Fishtown, I couldn’t get over the peculiar name of his neighborhood. He explained it was named after the early settlers, who were fishermen, and I soon discovered a vibrant and hip area filled with bistros, great restaurants, and a terrific art and music scene. When we started spending more time in his home, I appreciated how he understood that I needed to take things slow. The idea of sex was terrifying at first. Would I even know what to do? And what about the scars I’d no longer be able to hide? But he was gentle and patient, and the first time it happened, all my fears were allayed. It felt so natural, and he made me feel safe and cherished.
After we became engaged, he asked me to move in with him, but I couldn’t, though I often spent the night instead of making the trip back to Gigi and Ed’s house in Northeast. I loved being with him in that idyllic space, with its warm red brick walls and wood-beamed ceilings, but I wasn’t ready to give up my own space, to leave the surrogate parents who meant so much to me. Gigi and Ed’s house was the only home I’d known, and they were the only security I had. It’s another reason that I now feel grateful that Blythe pushed for a year-long engagement. It will give me the time to adjust, to get myself ready to live with Gabriel and be with him every day and every night. To trust him enough to let him hear the screams that tear from my throat when the nightmares come, the ones with all the blood and dead bodies.
Are they nightmares, or memories? I’m trying to believe in a happy ending for myself, but in the back of my mind always lurks the fear of what I left behind in that other life. It’s like crossing a bridge and having no idea what you left on the other side of the river. What will happen when I remember what was I running from?
??10??
Blythe
Blythe put on her pearl studs and regarded herself in the dressing table mirror. The fine lines at the corners of her eyes and the slight frown line between her brows were a little more obvious than last year, harbingers of the aging that in a few years would make her the proverbial older woman who “must have been a real beauty when she was young.” Lots of her friends were getting Botox and fillers. That was fine for them, but it wasn’t something she was interested in. She’d been blessed with great skin, and wore no makeup beyond a touch of bronzer, a sheer pink lip gloss, and on special occasions, a coat of mascara. There was a certain lightness about her, reflected in the natural fibers she favored, her loose, wavy hair, which never looked “done,” and her lithe, athletic body. Here, this all said, was a woman who was comfortable in her own skin, who made other people comfortable when they were with her. It was one of the things Ted had always loved about her, he said.
Blythe glanced at her watch and saw that they had to leave in a few minutes. She called up the stairs to Hailey, who had spent the night at the house. “Are you almost ready, honey?”
“Coming,” her daughter called back.
They’d arranged to meet Addison at Chantal Morgan Couture for their 10:00 a.m. appointment. When Blythe first proposed the outing, Addison had demurred, saying she didn’t want to spend a lot of money on a wedding gown she’d wear once and mentioning that a coworker had suggested she check out Rent the Runway. It wasn’t that Blythe turned her nose up at frugality, and she knew a lot of young women used and loved Rent the Runway. Fine. But a wedding dress was special, and she hated the idea of Addison renting one when Blythe was willing to buy her any dress she wanted.
Hailey came bounding down the stairs, her short blond hair still damp. She was tall and slim, like her mother, and wore a navy-blue jumpsuit that accentuated her height even more.
Blythe grabbed her handbag from the hall table and headed out the door. “Let’s go. Don’t want to be late.”