Page 16 of Escape Girl

“Em! I’d almost forgotten the sound of your voice.” His gruff voice chided me, but I could hear the relief and swallowed a prick of guilt. He had called several times in the last couple of weeks. I hadn’t felt like talking so I’d answered with texts.

“I just got home from work,” I said, forcing cheer into my voice. “How are you?”

“Oh, still at the office.” I could hear the contemplative frown in his voice. “This team is going to be the death of me.” I rolled my eyes. My father had the most brilliant men and women from all over the world working at his venture capital firm. He just liked to worry. For very little reason. No matter what his analysts recommended, he was always the final decision-maker. Which was a good thing for his supremely successful firm; he was justifiably famous for his street smarts and consistent good judgment.

Well, with two enormous exceptions to that good judgment. But the world didn’t know about one of those exceptions at all and had only sympathy for him about the other.

“Got your text about your case settling,” he said. He took a careful breath, and I closed my eyes. Here it came again: the unwanted sympathy. “Can I talk you into a visit home? Take care of you a little?” He tried a laugh. “I haven’t seen you in months. I’m starting to feel a little aban—Oh—uh. Ah.”

I could sense his horror at the poor choice of phrase, and my stomach plummeted. My father and I could not joke about abandonment.

“Soon maybe,” I chirped, pretending my mind hadn’t gone to the same place his did. “I’m considering a pro bono case though, so we’ll see.”

We talked about the weather, about one of Dad’s noisy neighbors, about office politics. I could tell that he wanted to ask about Bobby, and I almost told him about filing for divorce. But I couldn’t. It was only starting to be real for me, and if I told my father, it would be real for everyone. Also, I figured that Bobby should really be the next person to know and Cal hadn’t found him yet.

I promised my dad I’d call him again in a few days, and examined my fridge doubtfully. I really needed to learn to grocery shop like a grown-up. But I had a few slices of cheese,some not-yet-old bread, and a stick of butter. Triumph! I made a perfect grilled cheese on the stove and wolfed it down, still standing.

Outside the window, the sky was dark now, and I glanced into the lighted windows of neighbors around me. September 15.

I’d been ignoring the date all day. So what if a year ago had been Bobby’s and my first date? I’d survived my freak-out from the other night. Was I going to be fixated on particular dates for the rest of my life, or was it something that would fade as more time went on? As Bobby and I drifted firmly into the past, would I stop remembering every key moment that happened on every key date last year?

Of course I would. No, that wasn’t sad.

I sat down at my computer for no reason. Opened my email for no reason.

Liar.

I looked because Iknewthere was going to be something there. That Irving Escape Room had the feeling of a beginning of something, not an isolated incident.

Here it was. Another email from Bobby March.

Subject Line:Can You Escape? Invitation inside…

Good evening, Emily,

On this evening of September 15, Bobby March has invited you to a personally designed virtual escape room: The Libraries of San Francisco. Wander around, enjoy the sights, absorb the clues—but don’t stay too long! To win, to “escape,” you’ll need to type in the answer-phrase correctly within one hour. The timer starts the moment you enter the room. Up for the challenge?

There was no signature. Just a button that looked like a phone with a text message displayed:I hope you like long first dates.

The lump formed in my throat so quickly I couldn’t vanquish it with fury.I hope you like long first dates.When he’d asked me out at the Irvings’, I thought he’d been exaggerating when he said “Spend the day with me.” But he wasn’t. Our first date was a daylong affair.

I blew out a long breath and contemplated the email. Did I want to click the stupid button and get drawn into another emotional maelstrom? God no. But maybe that wouldn’t happen this time. I’d been drunk and sad when I dove into the Irving Escape Room. Tonight I was sober and frustrated, which was definitely better.

You want to play, Bobby? Fine, I’ll play. I’ll solve your stupid riddle and then I’ll walk away.

I had to keep living in this damn universe with him in it. So I might as well prove to him—and myself—that I could.

I clicked on the phone button, and the screen went to black. After a moment, the sound of a car’s rumbling engine burst through the speakers and a detailed image of a dark green Jeep appeared, driving toward me.

An unwelcome memory: last year’s Emily literally waiting by the window, too nervous to even have a cup of tea. Bobby had sent theI hope you like long first datestext message to me the night before, followed withI’ll pick you up at 9:00 a.m.

The message had been thrilling, mostly because it confirmed that this was a date-date. I’d spent a ridiculous amount of time debating my outfit. What did one wear on an all-day date? I hoped we weren’t going on a hike or something. I had nothing against hiking, but I was a little out of shape, and my gasping and wheezing probably wouldn’t make a great first impression. I’d finally settled on slim dark jeans, a soft gray cashmere sweater, comfortable ankle boots, and a pair of silver hoop earrings. Not the most original or sexy outfit, but I’d becomfortable and it was appropriate for almost anywhere in the city.

On the laptop screen, a map of San Francisco appeared behind the image of the green Jeep. I didn’t need to watch the map. If I let myself, I could remember every moment of that day. I remembered that day more clearly than I remembered entire years of my life. If I let myself…

*

One Year Ago

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