Page 10 of Remain (one-of-a-kind)

Tightening the strap around her yoga mat, she stood up and approached me, giving me my first real look at her face.

Up close, I was instantly struck by her eyes.

They were light green, almost too large for her face and framed by dark, sweeping lashes.

And although she wasn’t conventionally beautiful, there was something mesmerizing about her features, the wide mouth with a slightly crooked incisor and strong nose giving her an appearance that demanded a second glance.

It didn’t hurt that her warm olive skin glowed as if lit from within.

As she settled her full attention on me, her expression shifted, her brows knitting together in concern.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

“Excuse me?”

“You seem upset. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. But you still haven’t answered…”

“You’re not fine,” she said, not letting me finish. “You look like you’ve been crying. What happened?”

Thinking it wasn’t the time or place to go into it, I took a step backward and remained silent.

As though reading my mind, she smiled before sitting on the floor.

She began putting on her socks and shoes before finally looking up with disarming earnestness.

“Sometimes it’s easier to talk about things with strangers than with someone you know.

In the past, I’ve found myself confiding to random strangers in the oddest places.

Coffee shops, the gym, even the grocery store. ”

As I processed her words, I couldn’t help but blink. My sister’s imploring voice filled my head, her words echoing those of the woman before me…stranger…coffee shop…gym…grocery store…

I knew there was no way she could have overheard the video; the hallway had been empty, and the parlor was too far away. But the coincidence was too much to ignore, and surprising myself, I heard the words before I could stop them.

“I received a video this morning,” I said, my voice cracking. “One I hadn’t expected.”

Her expression softened. “Who was it from?”

“My older sister. She passed away, but she’d made arrangements with her husband to send it to me after she died.”

She hugged her arms to her chest, as though feeling my pain firsthand.

“I lost someone close to me, too, not so long ago, so I can imagine the shock you must have felt,” she said, her voice quiet. “What’s your sister’s name?”

“Sylvia.”

“Can you tell me about her?” she asked. She scooted toward the sofa and leaned against it, as if settling in for a long conversation. Something about her voice—inviting and instinctively sympathetic—made me feel strangely safe. I hesitated before seating myself in one of the armchairs opposite her.

I began to talk, and as I settled in, the words poured out of me without conscious thought or direction.

I rambled on about my parents and my sister’s heart condition, enough to paint a picture of my upbringing, but mainly about Sylvia and how much she meant to me.

Fighting back tears, I recounted some of our last conversations and my subsequent breakdown, and I briefly described my recent stint in the hospital.

In the end, I played for her the video Sylvia had sent, my hands shaking despite my best efforts to still them.

Through it all, the woman’s gaze never strayed, and I knew that both my sister and the woman sitting before me had been right.

It was easier to speak openly to a stranger.

Or, I thought, maybe to this stranger. With Dr. Rollins, I’d often held back; I’d even lied in my last words to him.

But with this mysterious, empathic woman, I’d left nothing out.

When I was finished, she leaned toward me.

“Thank you for sharing all that with me,” she said. When I nodded, she went on. “It’s so strange that your sister and I used almost the same words, don’t you think?” she pressed. “I promise I wasn’t eavesdropping.”

“I know you weren’t,” I said.

“It’s uncanny. Maybe even a little spooky.”

“Yes,” I admitted.

I watched as she sat up and began freeing her ponytail from its scrunchie. “I hate when these things get tangled in my hair.”

“I wouldn’t know,” I said, pointing to my near buzz cut with a halfhearted smile. “Do you want coffee? I really need coffee.”

“Tea is better for you,” she chided with a smile.

“Then I take it you don’t want any?”

She shook her head. As I rose, I saw the scrunchie fly from her fingers, skittering beneath the armoire.

“Wow!” She laughed. “That thing took off like it was launched from a slingshot.”

I squatted in front of the armoire, spotting the scrunchie near the wall. It was going to be difficult to reach, but before I could get down on all fours, she waved me off. “Go make your coffee. I’ll get it. I have skinnier arms.”

At the threshold of the parlor I paused, turning to look at her over my shoulder. “Thanks for listening,” I said. “I’m not sure what came over me.”

“Thank you for trusting me,” the woman responded.

In the kitchen, I located the coffee I’d purchased the day before and set about prepping the coffee maker. Then, remembering Paulie, I rinsed and refilled her water bowl before grabbing her food bowl.

“Is Paulie still out there?” I called out.

“She’s curled up on my hoodie,” she answered.

“My sister got her for me. Did I mention that?”

“No, but it makes sense, given how close the two of you were. It makes me wish I had a sister. Or a brother for that matter.”

Turning on the faucet again, I gave Paulie’s food bowl a good rinse.

“You don’t have siblings?” I called out.

“It’s just me,” came her answer.

“You never did tell me what you’re doing here,” I reminded her. “I assume you’re staying in one of the rooms upstairs?” I pulled down a can of cat food from the cupboard. “And I just realized I never got your name.”

Just then I heard a knock at the door, and glancing out the kitchen window, I saw Louise standing on the porch.

“Would you mind answering the door? I’m getting Paulie’s food ready.”

I pulled the tab and scooped some food into the bowl. There was only silence. At the lack of response, I set Paulie’s bowl on the floor.

“Hello?” I called.

I made my way back to the parlor and scanned the area twice, but the woman was nowhere to be seen. Nor were her belongings. No rolled-up yoga mat, no battered metal water bottle. Paulie, however, remained curled up on the hoodie before I realized the hoodie was gone, too.

Weird, I thought. When Louise knocked again, I hurried to the door and pulled it open. In her arms was a gift basket, including wine and an assortment of cheeses, salamis, and crackers.

“Good morning,” she said, holding out the basket. “This came for you, but you were out yesterday evening, so I signed for it.”

I peeked in the basket and saw a card from Oscar that read, In case you get hungry.

“Thank you,” I said. “And I’m glad you came by. Why didn’t you tell me that someone else would be staying in the house?”

She frowned slightly. “Because there is no one else staying here.”

“There obviously is,” I countered. “She was doing yoga when I came downstairs this morning.”

“I’m sure Mr. Aldrich would have let me know if he’d booked another guest. I’m quite certain that you’re alone here.”

“I don’t know what to tell you,” I said. “We talked for over an hour. And I’m not angry, just a little surprised.”

Her frown deepened. “I suppose I have to speak with him then.”

“If you do, let him know that it’s fine with me if she’s staying here. This place has more than enough room for both of us.”

After saying goodbye, I shut the door and brought the basket to the kitchen before returning to the parlor.

Paulie was still lying where the hoodie had been.

Strange; if Paulie had been roused, it was unlikely she’d have returned to the same spot.

And why hadn’t she run to the kitchen when she heard me filling her food bowl?

Normally she was hyperalert to the sounds of food preparation.

Near the armoire I got down on all fours, but the scrunchie was nowhere to be seen.

Thinking the stranger had returned to her room, I went upstairs and knocked on each door, calling out a friendly hello each time. Cautiously I turned each of the bedroom doorknobs, only to find them all locked.

Assuming she was in the bathroom or shower, and afraid of intruding, I retrieved my computer and went back downstairs, where I poured myself a cup of coffee.

By then, Paulie had made it to her bowl and was eating, and I settled at the dining room table with my cup, catching up on world events.

Despite a self-imposed news blackout during my time at the hospital, little had changed.

Republicans and Democrats were sniping at each other, tensions were simmering in the Middle East, and a Hollywood actress had just announced an impending divorce.

As I read, I found my mind wandering to the events of the morning, still unable to believe how much I’d told the woman about myself, but mostly dwelling on the memory of her eyes.

Though it was surely my imagination, they seemed to change color as different emotions flickered across her face, darkening at the mention of something painful, glittering a bright emerald when she laughed, and fading to a dreamy aquamarine while she was contemplating something meaningful I’d admitted about myself.

I sighed, closing my laptop. There was no denying that I was looking forward to seeing…

Well…her again…whoever she was.

But for as long as I sat at the dining room table, she never did come back downstairs. With a trace of disappointment, I packed up my things and headed out to meet Oscar and his family.