“Ally, this must be gutting,” Roger says. “But could you consider giving him another chance? He didn’t sleep with her.”
“I haven’t had time to sort out my feelings yet. Besides, he seems smitten with this Ashley chick.”
“Do you have anyone who can keep you company there tonight? What about your friend Gabby?”
“Uh, maybe . . .” Part of me just wants to be alone.
“I wish I could drive into the city tonight, but I need to be here when Marion gets home and find out exactly how much more she told her brother.”
“Understood. Is there any news about Wargo?”
“No, nothing yet. Maybe he’ll confess—or throw Audrey under the bus—but we’ll hardly be the first to know.”
“At least the cops are finally closer to the truth.”
He makes me promise to touch base with him later and to also call Gabby. After we hang up, I end up shooting Gabby a brief text. Roger’s right. It would be better to have some company right now.
Are you busy? I write. Can you come back over?
Sensing she might text back any second, I stare at the screen, but she doesn’t respond.
For the first time since I’ve come up from the lobby, I wonder where her gift is. Maybe opening it will do me good. I trudge back down to the great room and scan the space for it without any luck.
I wander aimlessly for a bit, ending up in the den and praying for Gabby to respond. If she doesn’t, what in the world do I do next? As I stand there, phone in hand, a smear of memory takes shape in my mind, fuzzy and vague. I’m here in the den. But not today. On another day, in the evening. I’m looking for something—I’m not sure what—and when I approach the desk, I see Hugh’s phone lying on top of it. A text pops on the screen as I’m standing there, and mildly curious, I glance at it.
No apologies necessary. You can kiss me anytime.
I’m remembering the night of the fight, I realize. After we’d turned off the TV, he’d retreated to the bedroom, forgetting his phone on the desk. I close my eyes, trying to summon more, but that’s all there is. I step back, shuddering. And then, strangely, I’m studying the phone screen but from farther away. I’m up near the ceiling, in fact. Watching myself on the ground below.
Out of my body.
No, no. Don’t let this be happening, I think. I inhale to the count of four, hold it, exhale. And again. Stay present, I beg myself. Stay here.
The phone rings, startling me. Dr. Erling.
“Ally?” she says when I answer.
“It’s me.”
“I was calling to check on you. Is everything okay?”
“I think—I think it might be happening again. The fugue state. I came back to the city today, and I felt disconnected for a brief time during the car ride. I snapped back, but then a few seconds ago, it seemed as if I was out of my body, looking down from above.”
“Is anyone with you?”
“No, no one. I made Hugh leave. He admitted he’s been seeing that woman, the one I told you about.”
“We can talk about that later. Have you tried the breathing exercises, Ally?”
“Uh, yes.”
“And are you still having that sensation you described?”
“Not right this second. But I’m so afraid it will come back. I . . .”
“It’s essential we meet in person, Ally. Right away. However, I don’t want you taking the train. Can you arrange for a car, like you did when you visited your brother?”
“Yes, yes. I’ll come right now.”
“And you still have the address in Larchmont?”
“Yes, I remember it.”
“If the sensation comes back, call me immediately from the car.”
As she hangs up, a sob catches in my throat. Please, I pray. Please let her help me.
31
I order an Uber, but it’s going to take twelve minutes to reach me. I’m afraid of staying in the apartment for even a second longer, worried that I’ll be back on the ceiling again, staring down at myself. I quickly grab my purse and rush down to the lobby, where I perch on a leather bench, waiting.
When the car arrives, I nearly hurl myself into it. Once I’ve attached the seat belt, I grip the door handle as hard as I can, as if it’s the only thing holding me to the present moment.
Jarring hip-hop is being piped in from both the front and back speakers. “Please,” I nearly beg the driver after a minute, “can you turn