“Addison! I was just thinking about you.”
Hearing her call me by that name is jarring, now that I’ve begun to think of myself as Cassandra. I want to correct her, but I don’t want to hurt her feelings. “I miss you,” I say instead.
Her voice is warm. “Oh, sweetie, I miss you too. How are you? Everything okay?”
“More than okay, actually.” I tell her about my breakthrough in therapy. “My feelings for him are coming back. I think I was happy here.”
She doesn’t say anything for a moment, and I almost wonder if the connection has been broken. “Gigi?”
“I’m here. Listen, that’s wonderful.” She clears her throat. “Have you spoken to Gabriel lately?”
So that’s it, I think. I sigh. “I can’t take his calls anymore, Gigi. I’m married. And a mother. There’s no place for Gabriel in my life anymore.”
She’s quick to answer this time. “Of course, of course. I’m sorry. This is all just going to take some getting used to. But I’m thrilled that you’re starting to remember.”
This feels wrong all of a sudden. “Okay, well. I’ve got to go. We’re going to the theater tonight. Give my love to Ed. I’ll talk to you later.”
I end the call, realizing that I need to put some space between Gigi and me. This is a time for me to concentrate on remembering, a time to recapture everything I’ve lost. Holding on too tightly to the life I had in Philadelphia will only make that more difficult. Gigi will understand.
I go to the bathroom and turn on the shower to warm up. Back in the bedroom, I take off my watch and rings and put them on the nightstand in the crystal box, then undress. After my shower, I take a minute to sit at the dressing table. I’m still thinking about my conversation with Gigi and how let down I feel. I know that as I become more and more established in my own life, the old one will have to recede. But I didn’t expect to feel an awkwardness with Gigi, of all people. If I didn’t know better, I’d almost believe she was hoping I’d be unhappy here, that I’d return to Philadelphia and take up where I left off. I shake the thoughts from my mind and concentrate instead on getting ready for the evening ahead.
After I’ve finished with my makeup, I open my closet and try to decide what to wear. I look through the garments hanging there and come across a turquoise silk tunic with gold piping. As my hand runs over the fabric, an image floods my mind. I’m looking at my reflection in a mirror in some kind of house. I’m screaming, my face red, filled with rage. That’s right. Run. Get the hell out of here before I kill you! I let go of the hanger and back away from the closet, my breath coming in short gasps. Who was I yelling at? Was it my abusive ex-husband? I push the thought from my mind, trying to focus on the present. I still need to pick an outfit for tonight, so I slowly walk back to the closet. I hold my breath and scan everything, finally plucking a purple silk wrap from its hanger. I slip into it and choose a pair of nude heels.
As I turn around to leave, Julian comes into the room. “You look beautiful,” he says. “I love that dress on you.”
I’m tempted to ask him about the tunic, but I decide against it. I don’t want to take a bad trip down memory lane right now. I want the evening to be beautiful and filled with promise. I smile back at him. “Thank you.”
I walk over to the nightstand to get my jewelry and slip my rings on first. I reach for the watch, but then decide not to wear it. It’s not really dressy enough. Taking a last look in the mirror, I’m pleased with what I see. The last touch is perfume. I move the perfume bottles around on my dresser, looking for the Creed Aventus for Her that Julian brought home to me yesterday. It’s gone.
Turning to him, I ask, “By any chance did you see my new perfume? It was on the dresser this morning.”
His forehead wrinkles, and in two strides he’s next to me. “It’s not here?” He examines the bottles himself but doesn’t find it either. “Are you sure you left it here?”
“Absolutely,” I say.
“Not again,” he whispers.
“What are you talking about?”
His back is rigid. “Nothing. I’m sure it will turn up. Maybe you put it somewhere when you were moving your things. Shall we go see if it’s on the dresser in the guest room?”
I follow him down the hall, but when we go into the room, there’s nothing on it but the lamp and a book.
“We can look when we get home,” he says. But his expression is still worried.