“Absolutely,” I say. Feeling his hand in mine, I realize how little skin-to-skin contact we’ve had since yesterday. I want more than anything to be in sync with him again. Maybe this is a start.
During dinner I try to savor the food, as Erling suggested, but the chicken is dry, as if it’s spent too many hours churning in one of those supermarket roasting furnaces, and the salads—coleslaw and macaroni, both dripping in mayo—are almost indistinguishable from each other. A glass of wine might help, but I’ve decided to swear off alcohol for at least another day.
“We’ve done nothing so far tonight but talk about me,” I say, setting my fork down. “What’s happening with the Brewster case?”
This is the case Hugh’s currently in the thick of, and it’s a pivotal one for him. It was probably tough for him to focus on it when I was missing.
“Unfortunately, there’s not great news to report.”
“Wait, what?” A swell of panic forms. Am I forgetting something else? “I thought it was going well.”
“Seemed that way, but we had an ugly surprise this morning. It turns out a member of the company’s senior team sent an email several months ago to several colleagues about possible improprieties related to the case. This is going to blow up in their faces—and ours.”
“Oh, Hugh, I’m sorry.” I empathize totally but at the same time I’m relieved this is a new development, not one I should have recalled. “I can’t believe you have to deal with that and all this at the same time.”
“Look, it’s their own fault for not divulging earlier. But I’m going to have to revise my strategy and pray there’s a way to curtail the potential damage.”
“If you need to work this weekend, don’t hesitate on my account. Plus, I’m meeting Roger for a drink Sunday afternoon.”
We end up crawling under the covers at around ten, iPads in our laps. Hugh, I notice, is halfway through a biography of Ulysses S. Grant. Do I remember that? Yes, yes. We talked about going uptown one day to see the Grant Memorial.
I open a novel I’d started reading over the weekend and try to connect with it again, but my eyes slide across the screen, unable to gain traction. After only a few minutes, Hugh snaps off his bedside light and flips onto his side, facing away from me. Though my libido currently seems to be on the lowest flame possible, I consider reaching over and running my hand along his thigh. We have sex several nights most weeks, and it might be good for me right now, fostering not only a connection with Hugh, but a sense of being fully present. Before I can make a move, though, I hear him begin to snore lightly.
I turn off my own light and lie wide-eyed in the darkness. Despite my exhaustion, sleep once more eludes me. After throwing off the covers on my side of the bed, I move down the hall to the great room. Lying on the coffee table is the pad I scribbled my timeline onto late last night. I grab a pencil and add in what I’ve learned today.
MONDAY
evening: dinner, TV, argument
TUESDAY
7:00: still in bed
9:00-ish: took call from Dr. Erling
9:00–9:17: sent emails
Before 3:00: lost phone
3:00–3:30-ish: called WorkSpace
WEDNESDAY
Possibly lunchtime: bought food at Eastside Eats
THURSDAY
8:05: arrived at Greenbacks
I stretch my legs out across the coffee table. Today’s revelations aren’t much but they’re something. It’s been hard to believe that a fight with Hugh over familiar ground could have derailed me so completely, and what I’ve found out today suggests that hunch is right.
I’ve also had a hard time wrapping my head around the idea of my fugue state being related to my discovery in the woods long ago. Yes, I’d been revisiting it in my mind lately, and it’s definitely stirred up both memories and questions, but why would it knock my wheels off so many years later? It can’t be that, can it? Regardless, I’m still eager to discuss the details with Roger.
What I’m left with is the x factor. A possibly traumatic event midday on Tuesday, one that I have no recollection of for the time being.
My thoughts stray back to today’s session with Erling, who wouldn’t be pleased to know I was ruminating this way. I struggle up from the couch, intent on trying to fall asleep. Before returning to the bedroom, I grab my phone from the kitchen counter and plug it into the charger nearby. As I’m