Ziggy picks up a rubber ball with his mouth. I hold out my hand and he drops the ball into it. He wants to play. I straighten up and toss the ball across the yard. Ziggy goes crazy, running after the ball. His happiness is almost infectious.
“Tess!”
My ears perk up. Somebody is calling my name. Or is that a hallucination?
“Tess! Over here!”
It’s a male voice, coming from behind me. I’m not hallucinating. Somebody is calling for me.
I turn around, but there’s nobody there. Nothing but the fence surrounding the backyard.
“Tess!” The door to the fence rattles, and that’s when I see the thick padlock holding the door closed. “Over here.”
My stomach flip-flops as I approach the fence. When I get close enough, I can see through the gaps in the fence that a man is standing there. He’s wearing a dark jacket, has a thick beard, and he’s wearing a Mets cap low on his head. A pair of sunglasses conceal his eyes.
“Tess,” he says. And then he takes off his sunglasses.
I clasp a hand over my mouth. “Harry!”
I grip the metal fence, wishing the gaps were big enough that I could reach my hand through and touch him. As it is, I can barely even see him. I have to put my face so close to the fence, my nose is nearly touching it. Harry. Theguy I am supposed to be married to right now. The love of my life. I don’t know what the hell happened.
“I needed to see if you were all right,” he says in a low voice. “You didn’t answer any of my text messages yesterday.”
I frown. “How could I? I don’t have a phone.”
Harry is silent on the other side of the fence. It’s hard to read his expression. It’s hard to see through the fence, and the beard and baseball cap obscure a lot of his face. All I want to do is burst through the gate and wrap my arms around him.
“Graham must have taken your phone away,” he finally says. “Because of me.”
“No, I never…” I start to tell him I never had a phone, but then I realize I don’t know if that’s true. I can’t remember what happened yesterday or the day before that or a year before that. If Harry says I had a phone, I probably did.
So why don’t I have one anymore?
“I used to get in touch with you through your phone,” Harry explains. “Graham got mad about it so I guess he took the phone away. He’s a manipulative bastard.”
I flinch at this description of the man who introduced himself to me as my husband. He seemed nice enough. And the letter I wrote to myself about him was complimentary. And not nearly so complimentary about Harry.
“You… you know Graham?” I ask.
He laughs bitterly. “Yes. I know Graham.”
“Oh.”
He lets out a long sigh. “I’m sorry. I wish I could tellyou he’s a great guy. I wish hewerea great guy. But he isn’t.”
“Harry, you’ve got to get me out of here.”
“I… I can’t.”
“Why not? Just come to the door and tell him that I’m leaving with you…”
“It’s not that easy. I wish it were.”
Ziggy comes up beside me and nuzzles my hand. Tears gather in my eyes. “I don’t like being here. I want to leave. Please help me.”
Harry is quiet. I want him to tell me everything is okay, and that he’s going to get me out of here. But with every passing second, I’m realizing that’s never going to happen.
“I wanted to see if you were okay,” he says. “But I think I should leave you alone. I’m not helping you. I thought I could help you—I wanted to so badly—but I’m not. I… I’m just making things worse. I’m making Graham angry at you.”
