Read Online Forgotten: A Novel by Catherine McKenzie - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Catherine McKenzie
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five days ago?”
“No. I mean, yes, but I couldn’t before. There wasn’t any way—”
“Do you really expect me to believe that?”
I sink to the floor, resting my back against the textured wall. “But it’s true! If you only knew what it was like there. I tried to contact you, more than once, but there just wasn’t any way.”
“But even if that is true, it doesn’t explain why you haven’t called me since you’ve been back.”
“I know, Craig. But I did try. Your home number is disconnected. And your voice mail at work said you were away. I didn’t know how to reach you.”
“Why didn’t you try emailing me again? Or calling someone else at work?”
Yeah, why didn’t I?
“I don’t know. Everything has been kind of overwhelming since I got back. My landlord rented my apartment to someone else and threw out all my things. Matt thinks I should go back to school, and Stephanie’s missing—”
He sighs loudly. “Okay, Em, please. Stop.”
I can imagine him, wherever he is, running his hand over his face, his fingers squeezing his temples. Craig’s never liked confrontation. He doesn’t have the stamina for it. It’s why he left litigation for the corporate department. It occurs to me that I’m using my knowledge of him to get myself out of trouble that I should be in. My chest feels tight, like someone’s squeezing, squeezing, and I’m glad I’m already on the floor.
“I’m sorry, Craig. I’m just trying to tell you what happened.”
His tone softens. “Tell me.”
I give him the synopsis.
I leave out the thoughts in my head.
He listens the way he always has, with sympathy and interest and intelligence. When I tell him, briefly, about Dominic, he even offers to let me stay at his place, if I need to, though he seems tentative in his offer, like he hasn’t quite forgiven me. But the longer we talk, the further I feel from the distance I felt in Africa.
“I’ll be home in three days,” he says when I’m done.
“Not any sooner?”
“No, I’m sorry. I can’t.”
And what’s wrong with being with Craig, anyway? What’s wrong with having a perfect-on-paper life?
“It’s okay. I understand.”
“We’ll talk when I get back, all right?”
Nothing. That’s what. And only someone who doesn’t know how good she has it would think there is.
“Yes.”
He pauses. “I missed you, Em.”
Maybe this is my turning point?
“I missed you too,” I reply. And in this moment, it’s the truth. “Let’s talk tomorrow.”
“I’d like that.” He pauses again. “Good night, Em.”
I take a deep breath. This is our code for “I love you.” No matter what the time of day, he always says, “Good night, Em,” and I always answer with “Sleep tight, Craig.”
So he still loves me. And don’t I love him too? Haven’t I always? If he were standing before me now, wouldn’t I walk into his arms, breathe in the familiar spicy scent of his skin, and feel safe?
“Sleep tight, Craig.”
I can almost hear his smile down the line, and as I stand and close the phone, there’s an answering smile on my face. Right at this moment, it feels good to hear Craig’s coded “I love you.”
“Who were you talking to?” Dominic asks.
I squeal in fright, jumping a foot in the air and spinning around to face him. He’s standing in the entranceway, unbuttoning his coat. His camera bag rests at his feet.
“You shouldn’t sneak up on a girl like that.”
“Apparently not.”
I feel a cold draft and realize I’ve let the towel slip, partially exposing one of my breasts. I pull it up hastily, hoping Dominic didn’t notice. One glance at his face tells me he did.
“Um, I think I’m going to get changed.”
“Right. You hungry?”
“Very.”
I close the door to the bedroom and lean against it. My head feels like a buzz saw has been let loose inside it. I lie on the bed for a while, trying to collect my thoughts. When that proves impossible, I change into another set
“No. I mean, yes, but I couldn’t before. There wasn’t any way—”
“Do you really expect me to believe that?”
I sink to the floor, resting my back against the textured wall. “But it’s true! If you only knew what it was like there. I tried to contact you, more than once, but there just wasn’t any way.”
“But even if that is true, it doesn’t explain why you haven’t called me since you’ve been back.”
“I know, Craig. But I did try. Your home number is disconnected. And your voice mail at work said you were away. I didn’t know how to reach you.”
“Why didn’t you try emailing me again? Or calling someone else at work?”
Yeah, why didn’t I?
“I don’t know. Everything has been kind of overwhelming since I got back. My landlord rented my apartment to someone else and threw out all my things. Matt thinks I should go back to school, and Stephanie’s missing—”
He sighs loudly. “Okay, Em, please. Stop.”
I can imagine him, wherever he is, running his hand over his face, his fingers squeezing his temples. Craig’s never liked confrontation. He doesn’t have the stamina for it. It’s why he left litigation for the corporate department. It occurs to me that I’m using my knowledge of him to get myself out of trouble that I should be in. My chest feels tight, like someone’s squeezing, squeezing, and I’m glad I’m already on the floor.
“I’m sorry, Craig. I’m just trying to tell you what happened.”
His tone softens. “Tell me.”
I give him the synopsis.
I leave out the thoughts in my head.
He listens the way he always has, with sympathy and interest and intelligence. When I tell him, briefly, about Dominic, he even offers to let me stay at his place, if I need to, though he seems tentative in his offer, like he hasn’t quite forgiven me. But the longer we talk, the further I feel from the distance I felt in Africa.
“I’ll be home in three days,” he says when I’m done.
“Not any sooner?”
“No, I’m sorry. I can’t.”
And what’s wrong with being with Craig, anyway? What’s wrong with having a perfect-on-paper life?
“It’s okay. I understand.”
“We’ll talk when I get back, all right?”
Nothing. That’s what. And only someone who doesn’t know how good she has it would think there is.
“Yes.”
He pauses. “I missed you, Em.”
Maybe this is my turning point?
“I missed you too,” I reply. And in this moment, it’s the truth. “Let’s talk tomorrow.”
“I’d like that.” He pauses again. “Good night, Em.”
I take a deep breath. This is our code for “I love you.” No matter what the time of day, he always says, “Good night, Em,” and I always answer with “Sleep tight, Craig.”
So he still loves me. And don’t I love him too? Haven’t I always? If he were standing before me now, wouldn’t I walk into his arms, breathe in the familiar spicy scent of his skin, and feel safe?
“Sleep tight, Craig.”
I can almost hear his smile down the line, and as I stand and close the phone, there’s an answering smile on my face. Right at this moment, it feels good to hear Craig’s coded “I love you.”
“Who were you talking to?” Dominic asks.
I squeal in fright, jumping a foot in the air and spinning around to face him. He’s standing in the entranceway, unbuttoning his coat. His camera bag rests at his feet.
“You shouldn’t sneak up on a girl like that.”
“Apparently not.”
I feel a cold draft and realize I’ve let the towel slip, partially exposing one of my breasts. I pull it up hastily, hoping Dominic didn’t notice. One glance at his face tells me he did.
“Um, I think I’m going to get changed.”
“Right. You hungry?”
“Very.”
I close the door to the bedroom and lean against it. My head feels like a buzz saw has been let loose inside it. I lie on the bed for a while, trying to collect my thoughts. When that proves impossible, I change into another set
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