“Are you ready for that step?” he asks. Lucky for me this is the one person whose thoughts I couldn’t care less about.
“Well, since you know everything, you tell me,” I say sarcastically. He smirks and stands from his seat.
“Marriage and family are the greatest gifts humanity was given,” he says, walking around his desk. I fold my arms across my chest, wondering where this is leading. Dexter has always irked me since he left. He’s only three years older than I am, but always feels the need to talk like some Ivy League college professor.
“Sometimes things happen, and they don’t always turn out how you hope or plan for.” There’s a lingering hint of regret in his voice. “Today, for instance, I’d give anything to attend my goddaughter’s first birthday party.” He picks up a picture frame off his desk and reflects on it. I wonder what kind of desperate person would choose him as a godparent. The money hungry kind, no doubt. He’s not even religious, and for teaching a kid values like honesty, integrity, and hard work, he’s not the ideal candidate.
He glances up at me from the picture. “She’s beautiful. Take a look.” He holds out the picture. I don’t care much for the guy, but refusing to look at a picture of his goddaughter would be a prickish move.
I take the picture and my eyes lock on it almost involuntarily. It’s a woman and a little girl. The woman in picture is beautiful with long dark hair and wide, almond-shaped eyes. The little girl in the picture doesn’t look much like her, she looks like—
The picture drops from my hand as a blinding pain shoots through my head. “Ahh!” I grasp my head and hold it.
No. Not now. Not in Dexter’s office.
“Christopher, are you okay?” Dex asks, walking towards me. I stumble backwards, finding the chair I was in earlier. I hear my heart beating in my ears. I haven’t had a headache like this since I can even remember, but it’s never hit so fast and hard.
I groan, gripping my head. I hear Dex’s voice, but it’s starting to sound far away as my vision starts to blur. “Call my parents!” I try to say, but I’m not sure if I’ve even said it at aloud as everything turns black.
Chapter 20
I’m cold but my face is warm, almost hot. My eyelids feel like bricks. I manage to open them and they adjust to the sunlight. My back hurts. I stretch my body. It’s stiff, and cramped up. I lift myself up and see that I’m laid out in the back seat of my truck.
How did I get here? My eyes scan the truck for my cell phone and wallet. I have to have my keys, otherwise how would I have gotten in my truck? This is bad. Out of all of the times for this to happen! Why now?
I see an envelope taped on the rear view mirror, and there’s a word on it. I can't really see what. My contacts have dried out and feel stuck to my eyelids. I reach and grab it; it’s heavy. The envelope is tightly secured, and it takes some effort to free it. Once I do, I can read the word “Open” in red ink. So I do, and in it I find my wallet, phone and keys. My phone is dead. I’m afraid to know what time it is or day even.
I get out of the truck, and thank God, I’m parked behind my parents’ house. The sun is bright; I’m praying it’s mid-afternoon. That’d mean I’ve only been out a few hours. If it’s morning, I’m screwed.
I reach the back door to our house and fiddle for my door key. How did I get here? Think, think! But it’s no use. This has happened a thousand times before.
I walk into the kitchen. It’s empty, no smell of food, and my stomach drops. That means my mom isn’t cooking dinner. Which also means it can’t be the same day, and I've missed dinner with Jenna and her parents. She’s going to kill me!
My eyes find the clock above the table in the kitchen. It’s 11:30, and definitely not p.m. I’ve really screwed up.
“Mom! Dad!” I call out. I rush to the living room. Most likely, they went out looking for me when I missed dinner. This is bad, really bad. All my talk about being better. My two-year, blackout-free stretch, has gone down the drain.
“Chris,” I hear a light, groggy voice call out from behind me. I turn around and see Lisa sitting up on the couch. I didn’t even notice her. I let out a sigh of relief that it’s her. Out of all the people, I’m glad Lisa’s the first to see me. She’ll let me know what’s happened while I was out, and not freak out or be pissed at me.
“Sorry you don’t have a better welcome wagon. Your parents had me driving around all night looking for you. They went out looking for you again early this morning, and had me stay here in case you got back,” she explains.
“How bad did I screw up?” I sigh and take a seat beside her.
“On a scale of one to ten, with your parents, like a five. They’re more worried about you than anything. With Jenna, like a 12.”
I throw my head back into the sofa.
“Ugh. How long?” I groan. Of all days for this to happen…
“Your mom said you’d been gone since three o’ clock yesterday. You still don’t remember anything?” she asks, starting to fold up the blanket she was under. She’s surprisingly calm. Well, not surprisingly. Lisa’s always pretty calm and laid back, even in the most hectic situations, but when she’s pissed, she can go from zero to ten pretty fast.
“The last thing I really remember was telling my parents that I had proposed to Jenna. Everything after that is a blur,” I admit.
“Look. Go get in the shower and clean up. Call Jenna and apologize like your life depends on it,” she sighs.
“But the bottom line is, if you guys are going to be together she’s going to have to get used to this. It’s not like she’s going into this blind. She knows about your condition,” she says simply. I wish it were that simple.
“Easier said than done. Her parents are here from Seattle, and her fiancé doesn't show up for dinner. That’s a promising beginning of an engagement. Her dad already can’t stand me.”
She turns towards me. “She loves you. She’ll get over it. It’s not like you skipped out on her to go get drunk with strippers or something,” she says, patting me on the shoulder.
“Did you?” she grins.
“No!” my eyes bulge. I bet that’s what Jenna thinks.
“You’re no fun, Chris. Go get in the shower. You look like hell. I’ll call your parents and ‘the fiancée’ and tell them you’re safe and sound,” she says, and pushes me toward the stairs.
“Give me your phone, I’ll charge it up for you; go and fix yourself up. You’ll have a much better chance if you flash those ‘forgive-me’ green eyes at her without eye crust and accompanying morning breath,” she jokes.
The shower cleaned me up, but my brain is still fuzzy. I lost 18 hours. Not bad, considering some of my other blackouts lasted weeks at a time, but the timing sucks. If I could remember one thing, some clue as to how I ended up asleep in my truck in the back of my house. Why wouldn’t I just go to bed? And then that weird envelope on my mirror, like I knew I wouldn't find it if it wasn’t there. That means I had to have some form of consciousness or someone was with me. But where’d they go? If someone wanted to rob me, they wouldn’t leave me with my wallet and car. I hear voices down stairs. They’re both women. My stomach drops. I know one has to be Jenna. She’s going to be furious.