Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 95421 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 477(@200wpm)___ 382(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95421 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 477(@200wpm)___ 382(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
Miriam Anderson stared down at me. She didn’t seem too surprised to see me, or at least it didn’t seem to faze her that someone was vomiting on her property. I wasn’t even sure she’d recognize me after all this time.
“Good morning, Dawson.”
I managed to crawl the rest of the way out of the doghouse and climb upright, using the roof to balance. “Hi, Mrs. A.”
“I think you’re old enough to call me Miriam now.” She smiled sadly. “I was beginning to wonder if I should call the paramedics. Are you okay?”
I started to nod, but stopped because it hurt my brain too much. “Sorry about your grass.”
“It’ll wash away. Would you like to come in?”
I hadn’t seen this woman in over a decade, and I’d just broken into her yard, passed out in her doghouse, and puked all over her grass, and yet here she was inviting me in. People didn’t change. “Could I trouble you for some Motrin?” I ran my tongue along the inside of my mouth, trying to find some moisture so I could speak better, but it was like the Sahara in there. “And maybe some water, too?”
She smiled and waved for me to follow her. In the kitchen, she went to a cabinet and pulled out a bottle of pills, then held a glass against the refrigerator door and filled it with filtered water.
“Thanks.”
She nodded.
I took the pills and forced myself to drink half the water, even though I was queasy. “Did I wake you when I got here?”
Miriam shook her head. “I noticed feet sticking out of the doghouse when I looked out the window while making my coffee about six. You were fast asleep.” She smiled. “You look exactly the same, just a little older.”
I rubbed the back of my neck. “Do you know how I got here?”
“I looked at the Ring camera. You were dropped off about two in the morning. Not sure by who, but the car left after it let you out.”
Probably the Uber. I shook my head. “I’m sorry for showing up like this. It’s not exactly how I would’ve liked to have seen you for the first time after all these years.”
She held out a hand. “Why don’t you have a seat? I’ll make you some tea. Caffeine might help with the headache.”
I was in no state to jump in a moving car at the moment, so I figured I might as well sit. Miriam put the kettle on and rustled around the kitchen for a few minutes before setting a teacup in front of me. She took the seat across from me with her own cup and sipped.
“Your mom tells me you’re a lawyer, in private practice.”
“I didn’t realize you and Mom kept in touch.”
Miriam nodded. “A few times a year. I give her the gossip from around the neighborhood, and she gives me updates on you and Ben and rubs in how warm it is in Florida when we talk during the cold months up here.”
I smiled, even though my face hurt. “She’s been down there four years and already needs a sweater when she comes up to visit and it’s seventy.”
I looked around the kitchen, anywhere but at the woman sitting across from me. My eyes stopped at the clock on the wall. I was pretty sure it was the same one from when we were kids. It had cherries where the numbers would normally be. “Is that right?”
She followed my line of sight. “Within a few minutes. It’s going on two.”
Wow. I’d really been knocked out. The cherry clock reminded me that the entire kitchen used to be cherry themed—cherry wallpaper, cherry dishtowels, cherry curtains, cherry salt and pepper shakers. But it was just the clock now. “You redid the kitchen.”
“About a decade ago.”
I nodded. With my kitchen inspection done, I had nowhere to look except down at my tea. Miriam and I were both quiet for a long time.
“Dawson?”
She waited until I lifted my head. It was painful to look into her eyes, knowing what I’d done all those years ago.
“Would you like to talk about it? Whatever brought you here last night?”
“I’m not really sure why I’m here.” That wasn’t true, but it also wasn’t a lie, if that made any sense at all. It felt like Miriam was looking into my soul, and that was more than I could handle, so I diverted my eyes once again. They swept around the room, looking for something, anything, to cling to. When they found the refrigerator, my heart skipped a beat.
Bailey.
Without thinking, I pushed back from the table, chair legs scraping along the tile floor, and walked over to the photo.
She couldn’t have been more than thirteen or fourteen. She had on that denim patchwork bucket hat she’d worn the day we met, and she was holding a football that looked bigger than it was in her tiny hands. Her smile was ear to ear. I swallowed and pointed. “This was taken on homecoming night in eighth grade.”