Page 21 of Remain (one-of-a-kind)

After cleaning up and returning the Charades box to the gaming table, I fed Paulie and refreshed her water bowl. I thought about trying to work, but since I’d finished most of a bottle of wine, I figured some fresh air was an even better idea.

I roamed the property, replaying the afternoon as dusk settled in.

I’d been on countless dates, and while this might not technically have been a date for all sorts of reasons, it was close enough, and I couldn’t remember another one quite like it.

If there’d been any downside at all, I realized, it was that I was no closer to finding out what I could do to help her.

By the time I returned to the house, stars had begun to speckle the sky.

I sat with Paulie on the sofa, and the photo of my sister on the mantel caught my eye.

I found myself wishing again I could talk to her.

Then, remembering, I pulled the phone from my pocket and texted Mike, checking on how he was doing and asking if he would send the second video. Minutes later, my phone dinged.

I’m doing all right, but sometimes I get flattened by grief out of nowhere. I found a support group which has helped, and my family has been great. Still some days are harder than others. How are you? What are you up to?

I responded, letting him know that I’d been commissioned to design a house on the Cape and promising to keep in better touch. After he forwarded the video, I hit play and again saw my sister, looking the same as she had in the first video. She must have recorded them back-to-back.

Hi Tate,

I don’t know how you felt about my first video and whether you did what I asked, but this one should be easier—no homework this time. I’m going to tell you a story instead, the story of how I knew Mike was The One for me.

On our first date, we’d chatted in Jess and Molly’s coffee shop in the East Village; the next time we met, he’d taken me to lunch.

I could tell he was a nice guy, but he was also painfully shy.

The poor man could barely meet my eyes, and as an unrepentant extrovert, I wasn’t sure I could ever be compatible with someone so introverted, so the jury was still out on him.

Later, he would tell me that I intimidated him.

Can you believe that? Me? Of course, it had more to do with our family money, not so much me. We laugh about it now, but still.

For our third date, he met me outside my loft, and we took a cab uptown to the school where he worked.

It was Saturday so no one else was around, and he brought me to his classroom.

Ten or twelve chairs were scattered around the room, as well as a drum set and a bunch of wind and string instruments.

In the corner was a battered old piano, nowhere near as fancy as the grand piano in our living room at home.

But he’d laid a single rose on one of the chairs, and after asking me to sit down, he went to the piano and rolled up his sleeves.

Then he began to serenade me with songs by Billy Joel and Elton John.

When he sang and played, I could see he was no longer nervous or shy.

His beautiful spirit and confidence shone through, and that’s when I knew there was more to him than I’d ever dreamed, something that transcended mere extroversion or introversion.

If you’re curious, he still plays and sings for me, and it’s one of the joys that fill my cup.

Along with ordinary pleasures, like making dinner together or snuggling while bingeing a TV show, or taking the dogs to play in the dog run in Tompkins Square Park.

That’s what love really is, Tate. It’s the simple, tender moments reserved just for the two of you.

There’s beauty in that kind of everyday commitment.

I know you’ve never been able to envision something like that for yourself, but I also know your heart, just as I further know you will find love one day.

There’s someone out there who has the key to unlocking all your defenses, and when you find her, it will change your life forever.

If the first video had left me reeling, this one made me smile through my tears. I remembered the story of their third date because she’d recounted it to me before, but this time it resonated even more deeply.

I watched the video a second time, promising myself that I’d call Mike when I got back to the city and meet up with him for a walk and a meal.

I’d been too wrapped up in my own grief to realize that his suffering must have been even greater than mine.

After all, he had already won life’s greatest prize, only to lose it.

· · ·

I was still feeling the effects of losing so much sleep during previous nights, but I didn’t want to miss Nighttime Wren if she materialized.

Despite being a light sleeper, I was worried that my exhaustion might prevent any sounds from awakening me.

Perhaps it was overkill, but I decided to carry the bench at the foot of the bed into the hallway, placing it near the stairs.

I returned to the room to fetch a pillow and blanket along with my phone.

Setting the phone on the floor, I made sure the hallway bathroom door was open before turning out the hallway lights.

The bench was too narrow and the padding too thin to be called comfortable, but when I lay down and closed my eyes, sleep overtook me right away.

· · ·

It was Paulie who woke me. I was dreaming when I hazily felt her jump onto my chest; a moment later, she nuzzled at my cheek. My eyes fluttered open, the images of the dream I’d been having dispersing like the tail of a comet. I glanced around, the world slowly coming back to me.

I heard a rumble in Paulie’s throat, and reaching for my phone, I turned on the flashlight, clarity returning as I gently moved Paulie to the floor and sat up.

I could make out the sound of water pouring from a faucet, along with the sound of someone humming.

I rose, hit the video record button, and slowly approached the bathroom door.

As before, the light dimmed with every step.

I reminded myself to tread carefully, as this version of Wren was unpredictable.

At the doorway, I shone the light into the darkened bathroom, and I saw her towel-wrapped figure near a tub half-filled with water, the faucet still running.

Her back was to me, her arms slack at her sides.

“Wren?” I asked.

She didn’t seem to hear me.

“Do you need help?”

She shuddered before suddenly turning to face me, her eyes terror-stricken. She thrust her hands up in a defensive position.

“What are you doing in here?” she shouted in panic. “Who are you?”

“It’s me…”

“Get out!” she screamed, cutting me off, her voice becoming more panicked with every second. “Get out, get out, get out!”

Suddenly she arched her back, as if someone had pulled her hair from behind, and shrieked in agony.

She stumbled backward, as though trying to keep her balance while being tugged, and I scrambled for the light switch.

In my panic, I missed it, and all at once, Wren was only inches from me.

Her skin was bloated and greenish gray, her cloudy eyes bulging as blood streamed onto her shoulders.

I knew then that this was how she’d looked in death, and I fell back, stumbling across the hallway.

I felt and heard the thump as the back of my head smashed into one of the bedroom door handles before I collapsed to the floor.

Starbursts clouded my vision even as I watched the bathroom door slam shut, forcefully enough to make the floorboards vibrate.

Despite the pain, I made myself stand and rushed back to the bathroom, sure I would find it locked.

But the door swung open easily, and hitting the light switch, I saw that Wren was gone.

So, too, was any evidence of water in the tub.

When I gently touched the back of my head, my hand came away bloody.