Page 7

ARI

I’m in the middle of telling Javina about my interaction with Trey earlier today. Caleb is at the museum, so it’s just me and her, hanging out in my kitchen.

“Where was Caleb when Trey showed up?” Javina asks as she cracks open a can of root beer and takes a sip.

“At the gym.”

“I see. So what questions did you ask Mr. Obsessed-with-you?”

I lean back against the counter and fold my arms together. “I asked him what food I’m allergic to, where my birthmark is, and what the name of my childhood dog was.”

“Childhood dog? I didn’t know you had a dog.”

“I never did. I don’t have a birthmark either, and I’m not allergic to any foods.”

“Ahh...” Javina says when it clicks. “Trick questions on the spot. I like it. What were Trey’s answers?”

“He got them all right. He said of all the meals we’ve had together, I never mentioned being allergic to anything. He said he’s kissed every inch of my body and he’s never seen a birthmark. Then he said with how often I moved, he didn’t realize I ever had a dog.”

“So he does know you.”

Pfft . “Lucky guesses.”

Javina shakes her head, then takes another sip of her soda.

“I dunno ’bout that, babes. If someone were to ask me those questions, I woulda taken shot-in-the-dark guesses.

Your allergies? Peanuts. It’s the number-one food allergy people have.

Your birthmark? It’s on your back. It’s a big area, and tons of people have birthmarks there.

Your childhood dog’s name? Bub. No matter what people name their dog, everyone calls their dog Bub. ”

Knock-knock.

Javina and I freeze.

“Who’s here?” I ask, even though I’ve got a good feeling who it is.

“Stay here.” Javina sets her root beer onto the counter, then heads to the door. She steals a peek through the peephole, then whispers, “It’s him.”

I stay where I am and whisper back, “Don’t open it.”

My best friend sucks at listening. “Don’t worry. I’ve got this.” With the chain lock in place, Javina slides the door open until it clicks against the metal.

“Javina,” Trey says. I can’t see him, but I recognize his voice. Hearing it just kicked my heart rate up.

Javina tilts her head to the side. “You know who I am?”

“Yeah, you’re Arella’s best friend. Your favorite color is pink. You enjoy spa days, massages, and you like to call me pretty boy .”

Javina glances back at me with a what the hell? look. I flash her the same look back. How does this guy know what Javina’s favorite color is or that she enjoys spa days? She hasn’t had one in almost a year. Is that how long he’s been stalking me?

Javina turns back to the man outside my door. “What else do you know about me, pretty boy?”

“Uh, you’re dating Rachel. You drive that red Toyota Corolla parked right there. Um...” He pauses to think. “I know that Arella keeps root beer in her fridge just for you, even though she hates root beer.”

Javina glances back at me again with her eyes bulging out of their sockets. Without making a sound, she mouths, What the fuck?

“Look, I know this must be weird for you since you don’t remember me. I’m sure Arella has told you all about me by now. I know you’re protective of her, but I promise, I’m not here to hurt her. I just want to show her something.”

“Show her what?”

“It’s a picture of her and I. It’s proof.”

Javina holds her palm out. “Hand it over, pretty boy.”

“Could you ask her to come to the door?”

Javina flashes me a silent what do you think? look. My head tells me I should call the cops, but my heart tells me I’m not in danger around this man. If he wanted to hurt me, he would have already.

Trey’s breath hitches as Javina steps aside and I step into his view. Earlier, he looked like he was recovering from two black eyes. Now the purple is gone. His skin looks perfect. Not a single out-of-place wrinkle or any signs that he’s ever had a blemish.

His eyes are an ocean blue of somberness and fear. Why is he the one who’s scared? He’s the stranger who keeps showing up at my door, knowing things he shouldn’t, and spewing out made-up stories of me losing my memory.

“Here.” Trey hands me a wallet-size photo of him and I staring lovingly into each other’s eyes.

In the photo, I’m wearing a dress that’s currently hanging in my closet.

Around my neck is a necklace I’ve never seen before.

It’s a pair of golden angel wings around a huge sparkly heart-shaped diamond.

“Four days ago, you were wearing the angel-wings necklace in this picture. It’s a necklace I bought for you, and it’s got an engraving on the back with my initials on it.

Besides this photo, it’s the only other thing that exists that’s proof I’m telling the truth.

Please tell me you have the necklace somewhere. ”

“I don’t,” I say as I hand the photo back to him. He doesn’t take it. “Great job with the photoshop, though. That woman looks just like me.”

“Because it is you. You just don’t remember taking the picture.”

“Right, because I lost my memory after a bad car accident. If that was true, how do you explain that Javina doesn’t remember you either?”

His arm muscles flex as he scratches the back of his head. I try my best not to stare.

“Okay,” he says, “I might have lied about the car accident thing. That’s not actually how you lost your memories.”

“Then how did it happen?”

“Um, I can’t say. But if you could try to remember me, maybe you’ll remember how that happened too.”

I throw the photo at him. It falls flimsily to his feet. “Take your photoshopped picture and leave.”

I’m about to shut the door on him when he shouts, “Wait! I can prove this wasn’t photoshopped. You wrote a note on the back.” He picks up the picture and hands it to me again.

Out of curiosity, I accept it. My lungs constrict as I read the note written in pen:

I love you, Trey. You are right.

We do belong together.

—Arella

It’s in my loopy handwriting with my signature.

I was freaked out before. Now I’m terrified. How does he know what my handwriting looks like? How many times did he practice writing in my handwriting before he perfected it on the back of this photo?

Over my shoulder, Javina stares at the note. “I dunno, babes, that looks pretty legit to me. It’s either real or a hella-good forgery.”

“It’s not a forgery,” Trey says. “I swear.”

“You’ve already admitted to lying about the car accident,” I say. “How can I trust that you aren’t lying about this too?”

“I only lied about the car accident because I can’t tell you the truth about how you lost your memories. If I do, they’ll put me back behind bars.”

“Who’s they ?”

“The, uh, the government.”

I press my eyebrows together. “What?”

“Yeah, I know it sounds weird, but again, if you can try to remember me, maybe?—”

He gasps as I rip his photoshopped picture in half, then half again.

I toss the pieces at him. “Go away, and stop coming back. The next time you do, I won’t hesitate to call the cops. This is your last warning.”

“Nooo!” He falls to his knees, grasping at the photo pieces on the ground.

“No. No. No.” His breaths become shaky as he gapes up at me with the ripped-up picture in his palms. Disbelief mixes with the tears glistening over the surface of his eyes.

“Why did you do that? This is the only thing I have of us.”

“There is no us ! I don’t know who you are! Now leave!” I slam the door shut and twist the bolt lock.

My silent apartment feels too silent. I thought telling him off would feel good, but it doesn’t.

Instead, I feel... I’m not sure what the right word for it is.

It’s like I’m a sailor not at sea who knows I’m supposed to be in the water, but I don’t know why.

Meanwhile, something keeps pulling me back to shore.

Javina beams at me. “Damn, girl. That was spunky.”

After letting out a long breath, I sneak a glance through the peephole. Trey is exactly where I left him: on his knees, with the photo pieces in his palms. Except now, he’s got tears rolling down his cheeks. He looks like he’s barely breathing as he stares at the ripped photo.

My heart breaks for him. I must have really hurt him. Then again, he’s a stalker. A lunatic. A deranged man. Whatever I want to call him, they all point to the same thing: This guy is off his rocker.

“Is he still there?” Javina whispers.

“Yeah,” I whisper back.

“What’s he doing?”

“I don’t know. He’s just... staring at the ripped picture.” I feel the need to apologize, but for what? I don’t owe him anything.

Eventually, Trey stands and wipes his damp face off on his shirt.

Then he stares at the ground with a desolate look in his eyes.

His chest rises and falls with each breath he struggles to suck in.

I’ve never seen someone so sad. He’s either a really good actor or he actually believes the crazy story he’s been feeding me and is truly hurt by what I just did.

With a blank look in his eyes, he turns on his heel and walks away.

At the living room window, I pull the blinds back a tiny bit to see him slowly dragging his feet toward his car like they’re weighed down by a ball and chain. He’s still got that bleak expression on his face as he opens the driver’s door and sits behind the wheel.

Then he just sits.

And sits.

And sits.

The whole time, he stares at his steering wheel and barely blinks. He’s in his car for so long that Javina gets tired of peeking out the window with me and heads to the couch with her root beer in hand. As for me, I’m not planning to leave this window until he’s gone.

“Seeing a man that pretty look so sad hurts me,” Javina says. “I’m about to go out there and offer him a blow job just to wipe that godforsaken frown off his face.”

I’m still holding the blinds open just enough for my right eyeball to see outside. “He could just be putting on a show.”

“A show for who?”

“For me—to make me feel bad for him so I’ll believe his crazy story.”

Javina sucks in a breath through her teeth, shaking her head. “I dunno, babes. Your handwriting on the back of that picture looked hella real to me.”

“But how? I don’t recall writing a note on the back of a picture I never took.”

Javina gasps so loudly, I drop the blinds. “Oh my god. What if he’s from an alternate universe?”

“A what?”

“You know, a world like ours, but not. Maybe whatever he was imprisoned for was so bad that his universe banished him to our universe. And in his world, you were his girlfriend, but he doesn’t realize he’s been banished, so he thinks you’re his girlfriend, when really, his real girlfriend is back in his universe. ”

“Javie...” I say with a come on face, “that sounds even crazier than the lies he’s trying to feed me.”

“Hey, if it’s possible for D. B. Cooper to jump out of a flying plane with a bag full of cash and never be seen again, then alternate universes are possible too.

” She gasps again. “What if that’s why no one ever found D.

B. Cooper or his parachute? What if he parachuted through a portal into another universe? ”

I roll my eyes at her. “Maybe it’s time we lay off the true crime shows for a while.”

In the parking lot, an engine starts. I peek through the blinds again and catch a glimpse of Trey driving away. “He finally left.”

Javina finishes the rest of her root beer, then stares at the empty can in her hands. “Don’t you find it a little odd that he knows you don’t like root beer and that you keep it in your fridge just for me?”

I join her on the couch. “That’s what stalkers do; they watch you until they know every little detail about you.”

“Yeah, but that’s a pretty specific thing to know, and something you can’t find out just by sitting outside someone’s house. Also, I’m not gonna lie; calling him pretty boy feels right.”

“What are you trying to say?”

She shrugs a shoulder. “I dunno. I’m just thinking out loud. Anyway, I should dip out. Will you be cool on your own?”

“Yeah, I’ve got a chain lock now.”

Javina disappears into my kitchen to toss her can into the recycling, then heads to the front door to slip her shoes on. “Call me if pretty boy comes back, ’kay?”

“Okay.” Now that I’m hearing her call him that again, I suppose it does sound right.

Javina opens my apartment door, then gasps.

I shoot up from the couch. “What?”

“He left the pieces of the photo on the ground.” Javina picks them up and holds them out to me. “Here. Put these under a microscope.”

“Why?” I open my palm for her to drop the pieces into.

“To look for alternate universe dust, duh. If this picture came from his world, there’s probably evidence of it on there somewhere.”

I roll my eyes as I chuckle softly. “Okay. I’ll get right on that.”

Once Javina is gone, I return to the couch to examine the photo.

I don’t have a microscope, but I do have packaging tape.

On the coffee table, I arrange the photo pieces to reflect their original form.

Then I stick a large piece of transparent tape over the picture.

After cutting off the excess tape, I sit back to investigate the mended photo.

Javina is right, the handwriting does look legit. The photo looks real too. I stare closer at the necklace I’m wearing in the picture. I don’t recognize it. Trey claims I was wearing this necklace four days ago. If that’s true, where is it now?