Page 8 of The Rebound
My sister’s place, my childhood home, sits quietly in the darkness, one lonely light on in the upstairs landing. The driveway is empty. Her husband, Tomasz, still at work.
“You sure someone’s in?” Luke asks.
“She’s probably in bed.”
I know I should thank him for his help. I know I should get out of his car. But I don’t move. I can’t move. Not because I don’t want to leave him, but because I don’t want to go inside. Now that I’m here, I’d rather be anywhere else.
I don’t know why I thought this would be a good idea. Why I thought I could actuallydo this.
And he must sense something’s wrong because though Luke turns the engine off, he doesn’t push me out of the car, doesn’t try to hurry me along even though he must be tired.
“Listen,” he begins, sounding oddly guilty, but I don’t let him finish.
“Thanks for the ride. Maybe I’ll see you around.”
He seems torn, but he lets it go as he nods.
“I can get my stuff,” I add.
He ignores me, getting out with me and retrieving my luggage from the trunk. Boot. “Good luck” is all he says when he places it on the curb.
I give him a final, polite smile and wheel my case up the short driveway. He doesn’t start the engine until I’m standing on the porch and even when I do the stupid “okay, bye” wave he doesn’t leave, no doubt playing the gentleman and waiting until I’m safely inside. There’s a lengthy pause once I press the bell, long enough that I think Louise actually is in bed, and I’m just about to turn around when the porch light snaps on, blinding me.
“Finally!”
My sister throws open the door, dressed in her pajamas. “I was about to call the guards!”
I open my mouth to explain but don’t get a chance as she pulls me inside, berating me the entire time. The engine starts behind me, but by the time I extract myself from her grasp, the car is driving off, leaving me behind.
2
I wake with no idea where I am.
I haven’t woken naturally in a long time. My haphazard sleep schedule means I rely solely on an alarm to let me know when to get up and I’m used to being jolted to consciousness by ABBA or ACDC depending on the kind of day I plan on having. It’s strange to wake naturally, floating in and out for what feels like hours but what is probably only minutes before I finally open my eyes.
The world comes back to me in pieces. My job, Tyler, Ireland.
Crap.
I stretch, craning my neck and pointing my toes, but I’m unused to the narrow single bed I slept in as a child and when I roll over to check my phone I almost fall straight to the floor.I save myself just in time and with a groan, push myself up, throwing the lumpy duvet off of me.
The room feels smaller than I remember. The pale lilac wallpaper is pockmarked where my posters used to hang, the carpet dotted with nail varnish and hair dye stains. My desk is still here, polished and looking a little sad. It used to hold a million textbooks and stacks of essays. Now, Mam’s ancient sewing machine takes up most of it, along with a bag of clothes marked for charity.
My old digital alarm clock, if still correct, tells me it’s eleven in the morning. It’s the longest I’ve slept in in years.
Stiff-limbed, I climb out of bed. My suitcase lies open on the floor, my gym gear and shoes folded on top for easy access. I lay them out on the mattress and get to work unpacking the rest. There are only a few odd-sized hangers in the closet, so I drape most of my clothes over the back of the chair, trying not to think about how much they cost and how much I could sell them for.
At the bottom of the case, wrapped in tissue paper in a small plastic bag, is my engagement ring.
I take it out carefully, holding the silver band between pinched fingers. I’d picked it out myself from a swanky boutique in Chelsea after days searching for the perfect one. Afterward, Tyler treated me to a champagne lunch by the pier and teased me because I refused to put it on. I’d been too scared to wear it, sure I’d scratch it against something. He never told me the price of it. But I knew it was a lot.
I’ll have to return it to him. Or try to return it. Maybe he’ll tell me to keep it.
Maybe I could sell it too.
I stare at it for a moment longer, twisting the diamond so it catches the sunlight before dropping it back into the bag.
One thing at a time.
