Page 22 of Remain (one-of-a-kind)

There was dried blood on the pillowcase when I woke in the morning.

Though the wound had clotted, my head ached, and the spot was tender to the touch.

I took some ibuprofen and, in the shower, gently washed the blood from my hair.

After getting dressed, I moved the bench, blanket, and pillow in the hallway back to where they belonged and added the pillowcase to my pile of dirty clothes.

After dropping the laundry bag near the entrance to the kitchen, I started the coffee maker and reminded myself to stop at the laundromat in town on my way to see Oscar and Lorena later this morning.

I made a peanut butter and honey sandwich for breakfast, then filled a plastic baggie with ice from the freezer, holding it to my head while I ate and gulped down coffee.

“I thought I told you that tea is better for you than coffee.”

I jumped, spitting out a mouthful of coffee before turning to see Wren leaning against the counter, holding a mug of tea, looking sunny and rested. She was wearing a flowered yellow sundress and a pair of sandals.

“I didn’t hear you come in.”

“That’s because I’m stealthy,” she said with a wink. “It used to drive my grandma crazy. I’m sorry for startling you, though.”

“It’s okay,” I said, wiping the coffee up with a paper napkin.

“Is your hangover that bad?” She sounded amused.

“No,” I answered, shifting the bag of ice on my head. “I stumbled last night and hit my head.”

“Yet another hazard of drinking too much,” she teased.

“Just so you know, I dumped the last glass in the sink.”

“I’m not judging.”

“It kind of sounded like you were judging.”

“Maybe a little.” She smirked. “Can I see your head?”

“Sure.”

She pushed off the counter, and for a moment I was able to see through her, as if she were a faded, threadbare version of herself. But almost before I registered the change, she was back to normal.

I removed the baggie as she approached. She bent over my head and winced. “Ouch! That looks like it hurts. I think you might need stitches.”

“It stopped bleeding, so I think I’ll be all right.” Remembering her limitations, I pulled out the chair next to me, angling it away from the table so she could sit. “Would you like to join me?”

She debated for a moment before edging around me and taking a seat.

“I guess I have a little time,” she said.

“Busy day ahead?”

She cupped the mug of tea and hesitated, as if weighing how much to tell me. “There’s someone in town I need to talk to, but I’m not sure whether I’m ready to do it today.”

I studied her, wondering again if she could leave the house or if she simply imagined she still could. “Friend or foe?” I asked, skirting the issue.

“Friend,” she said before letting out a sigh. “Or he was at one time. He’s my partner at my business downtown and…” She hesitated. “Can we not talk about it right now? It’ll just upset me.”

“Of course. It’s way too early for serious conversation anyway.”

She smiled. “What’s on tap for you today?”

“I’m bringing Oscar and Lorena to meet with a few general contractors,” I said.

“Are you going to show them your drawing?” she asked.

“I’m not sure yet,” I said. “I don’t know if the house will even look anything like that in the end.”

“Then why would you go to the trouble?”

“It helps me come up with ideas,” I explained.

“I looked at it again this morning,” she said. “While you were bumping around upstairs. You know what I think it needs?”

“What’s that?”

“Window boxes,” she said, “beneath the windows on the upper floor. To make it feel more like a home, you know, not just this huge, impersonal house.”

My mind drifted to the drawing, and I imagined how it might look if I followed her suggestion. “Maybe,” I said. “I’ll think about it.”

She set her mug on the table. “What were you doing upstairs? You were making a racket in the hallway.”

I was moving furniture back to my room after a night experiencing a real-life horror movie.

“Cleaning up,” I said. “I have to drop my laundry off this morning.”

“Is that what’s in there?” she asked, gesturing at the bag. When I nodded, she made a quizzical face before going on. “Why don’t you use the washing machine in the cellar?”

“I’ve always sent my laundry out.”

Maybe it was the way I said it, but after a beat, her eyes widened with delighted shock. “You don’t know how to do laundry, do you?”

“I’ve never had to do it.”

“Of course you haven’t,” she said, her delight still evident. “It’s just that I’ve never met an adult who didn’t know how to do laundry before.”

“You don’t have to look so pleased about it.”

“I’ll show you.”

“You don’t have to,” I protested.

“Do it for me. I’d hate to think that you lack basic life skills.”

“Will it take long?”

She gave an exasperated sigh. “Go get your clothes,” she said.

I picked up the laundry bag and trailed Wren to the cellar door. When I reached the bottom of the steps, I glanced over my shoulder and saw her descending, filing away the knowledge that her movement wasn’t limited to the house’s main floor. I brought the bag to the counter.

“I’m not going to do it for you,” she said. “This way you’ll remember.”

She had me separate my clothes into lights and darks.

Then, pointing to the machine, she walked me through the steps.

I adjusted the load size, temperature, and time, and added the pile of darks.

She suggested I read the box to determine how much detergent I needed, and I dutifully followed the instructions.

“Now what?”

“Now you close the lid and turn it on. Easy, right?”

“I’ll still have to dry and fold.”

“Poor you,” she teased.

We chatted in the kitchen for another hour while I downed two more cups of coffee.

Her mug of tea hovered at half-full, no matter how much she drank.

When it was getting close to the time I had to leave, I rinsed the coffeepot and hand-washed my cup and plate.

We returned to the cellar, and she showed me how to work the dryer but recommended that I wash the other load when I returned home, so it wouldn’t sit in the washer all day.

“It would have been more convenient just to drop it off,” I observed.

“But then you wouldn’t have started your day off by learning something new, and that’s always a good thing.”

The cellar’s shadows played over her face, making her seem even more mysterious. “I’m afraid of what you’re going to say when I tell you that I can’t cook,” I said.

“If you were that afraid, you wouldn’t have mentioned it.”

I went to my room to gather my belongings, half expecting her to be gone when I came back downstairs. But I found her in the parlor, staring out the window. She met my eyes before following me to the door.

Outside, the sky was cloudy at the horizon, and I saw no sign of Louise or Reece. I walked to the door and ventured onto the porch, wondering if she’d follow, but she remained just inside the threshold.

Because she can’t leave the house?

“Thanks for the laundry lesson this morning,” I said.

“Anytime.” She surveyed the grounds before bringing her eyes back to me. “Will I see you later?”

“I hope so,” I said, surprised by how much I meant it. “I’ll be back this afternoon.”

“I’ll be here,” she said.

“I’ll pick up another game for us to play.”

“I’d like that.”

“Any preference?”

“You’ll know it when you see it,” she assured me. Then, softly: “I’m really glad you’re here, Tate.”

I felt a lump form in my throat. “I am, too.”

· · ·

I met Oscar and Lorena at their rented house in Chatham.

They left the kids in the care of their nanny while the three of us carpooled in Oscar’s SUV to the first meeting, though it meant putting one of the car seats into the rear compartment so I could fit.

I had to sweep the seat first and saw piles of Cheerios and crackers hit the carpet, but at least the leather wasn’t sticky.

“Welcome to my world,” Oscar remarked as he watched me with amusement.

Since Lorena was with us, Oscar didn’t ask about Wren, but I could see his burning curiosity whenever he glanced at me.

I pretended not to notice, still trying to organize my own thoughts.

On the plus side, carpooling allowed us to debrief after each meeting, and Oscar and Lorena said they preferred the second and third general contractors.

Upon our return to Chatham, Lorena joined the kids and the nanny in the front yard, where a game of croquet was under way. Oscar could barely wait to pull me aside.

“Did she show up yesterday?” he asked under his breath. When I nodded, he went on. “Let’s meet for lunch tomorrow in Provincetown. We can walk on the beach, and there’s this place that’s famous for lobster rolls. It’s supposed to storm all day Sunday, so let’s take advantage of the good weather.”

“What if I see her in the morning?”

“So?”

I like spending time with her.

“I’m not sure I should leave,” I hedged.

He lifted an eyebrow. “I think you need a little distance. It’ll do you some good.”

I glanced toward Lorena, who was laughing at something one of the children had said, and was struck by the strange turns my life had recently taken, especially when compared to my friend’s.

I wondered, too, whether Wren would be upset if I was away all day, and it was that nagging concern—more than anything—that let me know Oscar was right.

I was already losing myself to Wren, and for my own emotional health, I had to be careful.

· · ·

On my way back home, I picked up a plate of salmon, rice, and vegetables from a local restaurant to reheat later for dinner. Heeding Oscar’s subtle warning, I reminded myself again that it was one thing to help Wren but entirely another to fall for her.

And yet…