covers over my head and shivered, deep in my core.
I don’t know how long I lay there frozen still, not wanting to move a muscle, but at one point, I tried to do my own personal version of counting sheep—piecing together the events of the previous day that might have been blurred as a result of my medication. Only then did it occur to me—I hadn’t taken any. The only thing I forgot yesterday was to take the pills that made me forget everything else.
I slipped out of bed and into the bathroom, fishing around in my travel kit for the pill bottle. I couldn’t pop one right then—I was supposed to take them with food. Instead, I set the bottle on the vanity so I wouldn’t forget to take one just before I went down for breakfast.
As I crawled back into bed, something hit me. I had been told there could be side effects from stopping this medication too abruptly. I took stock of how I was feeling after just one day off the pills—no shaking, no withdrawal symptoms of any kind that I could discern other than a slight headache. I tried to remember what the side effects were supposed to be… Sleep disruptions? Well, it was the middle of the night and I was wide-awake. Whatelse? Depression? Hallucinations? That word hung in the air as though I had said it aloud. “Hallucinations.” Was that all this singsongy voice was? Something I was making up in my own head? That had to be it.
Satisfied with that explanation, I felt the tension in my body begin to melt away. I lay there focusing on how comfortable the bed was and how safe and warm it felt to be nestled there under the blankets. Before I knew it, I was opening my eyes to a new day.
I stretched and yawned, marveling at how different life seemed from what it had been just two days before. No angry victims stalking me, no bill collectors, no banks threatening to foreclose, no former friends giving me the ultimate cold shoulder. Instead, I was in a magnificent old house with a fascinating, if a little odd, lady and servants to attend to my every need. How did I ever get so lucky?
I glanced at the clock. Six fifteen. I had lots of time before breakfast, so I thought I’d shower and head downstairs early. Maybe I could find a copy of the morning newspaper.
It wasn’t until I was out of the shower and toweling off that I noticed the pill bottle. It was floating in the toilet, its contents spilled and at the bottom of the bowl. I stood there staring at it for a while, not quite believing what I was seeing. I remembered putting it on the vanity in the middle of the night, but did I open it? I must have. I fished the bottle out of the water and flushed, watching the pills go down the drain, thinking there surely must be a pharmacy in town where I could get a refill.
Only then did it occur to me: I couldn’t do that. How does a woman who has vanished get a prescription filled? One call to my doctor’s office and my opportunity to leave my past behind would be ruined. I shook my head and told myself Adrian could handle it for me somehow when he returned. That was the best I could do. I’d simply have to go without my medication until then. I’d already gone twenty-four hours without it, slightly the worse forwear, but nothing I couldn’t handle. For now, maybe coffee could ease my headache.
I dressed and headed downstairs. After a few wrong turns, I found my way to the kitchen and poked my head around the swinging door. Marion and two other young women I hadn’t met were buzzing around the stove. The aroma of coffee filled the air, and one of the women was pouring batter into muffin cups while the other was cracking eggs into a bowl.
“Hello? I don’t mean to bother you,” I began, still not quite sure of the etiquette of dealing with maids.
“Yes, Miss Julia,” Marion said. “What can we do for you?”
“I was hoping for a copy of the newspaper and some coffee?”
“Of course. Go on into the breakfast room and I’ll bring them to you.”
I sensed the
I don’t know how long I lay there frozen still, not wanting to move a muscle, but at one point, I tried to do my own personal version of counting sheep—piecing together the events of the previous day that might have been blurred as a result of my medication. Only then did it occur to me—I hadn’t taken any. The only thing I forgot yesterday was to take the pills that made me forget everything else.
I slipped out of bed and into the bathroom, fishing around in my travel kit for the pill bottle. I couldn’t pop one right then—I was supposed to take them with food. Instead, I set the bottle on the vanity so I wouldn’t forget to take one just before I went down for breakfast.
As I crawled back into bed, something hit me. I had been told there could be side effects from stopping this medication too abruptly. I took stock of how I was feeling after just one day off the pills—no shaking, no withdrawal symptoms of any kind that I could discern other than a slight headache. I tried to remember what the side effects were supposed to be… Sleep disruptions? Well, it was the middle of the night and I was wide-awake. Whatelse? Depression? Hallucinations? That word hung in the air as though I had said it aloud. “Hallucinations.” Was that all this singsongy voice was? Something I was making up in my own head? That had to be it.
Satisfied with that explanation, I felt the tension in my body begin to melt away. I lay there focusing on how comfortable the bed was and how safe and warm it felt to be nestled there under the blankets. Before I knew it, I was opening my eyes to a new day.
I stretched and yawned, marveling at how different life seemed from what it had been just two days before. No angry victims stalking me, no bill collectors, no banks threatening to foreclose, no former friends giving me the ultimate cold shoulder. Instead, I was in a magnificent old house with a fascinating, if a little odd, lady and servants to attend to my every need. How did I ever get so lucky?
I glanced at the clock. Six fifteen. I had lots of time before breakfast, so I thought I’d shower and head downstairs early. Maybe I could find a copy of the morning newspaper.
It wasn’t until I was out of the shower and toweling off that I noticed the pill bottle. It was floating in the toilet, its contents spilled and at the bottom of the bowl. I stood there staring at it for a while, not quite believing what I was seeing. I remembered putting it on the vanity in the middle of the night, but did I open it? I must have. I fished the bottle out of the water and flushed, watching the pills go down the drain, thinking there surely must be a pharmacy in town where I could get a refill.
Only then did it occur to me: I couldn’t do that. How does a woman who has vanished get a prescription filled? One call to my doctor’s office and my opportunity to leave my past behind would be ruined. I shook my head and told myself Adrian could handle it for me somehow when he returned. That was the best I could do. I’d simply have to go without my medication until then. I’d already gone twenty-four hours without it, slightly the worse forwear, but nothing I couldn’t handle. For now, maybe coffee could ease my headache.
I dressed and headed downstairs. After a few wrong turns, I found my way to the kitchen and poked my head around the swinging door. Marion and two other young women I hadn’t met were buzzing around the stove. The aroma of coffee filled the air, and one of the women was pouring batter into muffin cups while the other was cracking eggs into a bowl.
“Hello? I don’t mean to bother you,” I began, still not quite sure of the etiquette of dealing with maids.
“Yes, Miss Julia,” Marion said. “What can we do for you?”
“I was hoping for a copy of the newspaper and some coffee?”
“Of course. Go on into the breakfast room and I’ll bring them to you.”
I sensed the
Similar Books
