Page 70 of Gone Tonight
The sorts of things that a woman who is in a serious relationship keeps at her boyfriend’s place in case they end up sleeping there and she needs to put herself together the next morning.
I know because when Ethan and I were together, I kept a similar bag in this very drawer.
I zip up the pink bag and decide to give up on my hair. I walk back into Ethan’s bedroom. He’s hunched under the covers, whispering into his phone.
I quietly gather my things. By the time I’m slipping on my shoes, he has hung up.
“Was that Kaitlin?”
He flinches. “Look… I didn’t plan on this, but when you called…”
“Don’t worry about it. I didn’t exactly expect us to get back together.”
I did think about it for a few minutes, though. Ethan is far from dependable, but for a little while there he felt like the most solid thing in my life.
As I start to exit the bedroom, Ethan jumps out of bed and pulls on his boxers, scrambling to catch up with me.
I walk through the living room, seeing the beer bottles and the bong on the coffee table, the sofa cushions in disarray. I don’t need to go into the kitchen to know the state it’s in: pizza boxes piled on the counter, a carton of fermenting orange juice in the fridge alongside a few Gatorades for hangovers.
I haven’t been here in a year, but not a single thing has changed.
His phone is ringing again. It’s probably Kaitlin, wondering why he hung up so abruptly.
Maybe she is out of town, or perhaps she works a night job like Ethan. She could even be the blond waitress who always gave me cold looks when I came in to visit Ethan, even though he swore she was like that with everyone. Ethan never introduced me to her, but I heardother people at the bar mention her name—and I’m positive it began with aK.
“Better get that,” I tell Ethan as he looks at me sheepishly. He blows his long hair out of his face, and his lightly tanned, beautifully tattooed body leans toward me for a goodbye kiss.
I turn around instead of giving him one.
As I walk away, his voice sounds faint, but I still catch how he greets his girlfriend. “Hey, you.”
I can hear another voice, too, but this one is in my head. It belongs to my mother.That could have been you,she whispers.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOURRUTH
Here are my vanishing rules: Keep cash in your wallet—a hundred dollars minimum. Never let your phone battery dip into the red zone. Store a granola bar and a bottle of water in your glove compartment.
And in the side pocket of your duffle bag, carry a flat-head screwdriver.
I’d never be able to sleep in a Target today, like I did the first time I ran. Security measures are more sophisticated now, with motion-activated cameras and invisible lasers.
But I’m better now, too. I’m more resourceful than I was as a teenager.
The lunch rush at Sam’s is over. Just a handful of customers are lingering, reading the paper or skimming through their phones. I finish rolling a set of silverware into a white paper napkin and put the slim bundle atop the stack I’ve made by the coffee station.
“Miss?”
Two women at table five are summoning me. I reach for a pot of coffee and head their way. I learned long ago that carrying coffee saves me from making extra trips. Since I hold the pots with my right hand, the bicep on my right arm is always slightly bigger and more defined than the one on my left.
“Top you off?” I offer.
“Just the check, thanks.”
I’ve already tallied their total, so I reach for the bill in my apron pocket and put it on the table.
I head back to the coffee station and take one of the white mugs stacked facedown on a tray and flip it right side up, pouring a cup for myself. It’s my fourth so far today.
I’m tired because I tossed and turned all night. I couldn’t sleep without Catherine at home. The strange thing is, I assumed we’d spend more time together after Dr. Chen told us he believed I had Alzheimer’s.
