Page 70 of Memories of the Lost

After they’d eaten, she asked, “All packed for Crete?”

“Please come with me. It’s only ten days, and it will get you out of your head.”

She was sorely tempted—the feeling of sunshine on her arms after the long winter. Having time to lie on a beach and swim in crystal-clear waters was very tempting.

But she shook her head. “You know I can’t. This show has to get done.” She narrowed her eyes. “And shame on you for tempting me at the runaway time.”

He shrugged unapologetically. “I know. I just—”

“Don’t want to go alone.” She nodded. “I think you might enjoy it more than you think you will.”

He sighed. “Maybe. I’ve just always had you or a boyfriend.”

“Wait. You’ve never traveled alone at all?”

“No.”

“Youhaveto do it, then. It will be like a rite of passage. It will free you.”

“I hope you’re right.”

CHAPTER THIRTY

Some hours later, Tillie found herself standing in the kitchen of her apartment. The kettle was boiling. A strainer full of tea was ready in a pot, and it smelled of cinnamon and orange, heady and rich, but—

When did she buy it?

A chill rolled down her body, and her hands began to tremble. How did she even get here? She’d hugged Jon, wished him bon voyage, and then ...

Now, she was boiling water for tea she didn’t remember buying. In a state of frozen horror, she stared at the boiling kettle, watched as it clicked off, and tried to piece it together.

What had she done? Where had she gone?

What the actual hell was happening to her?

She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, tried to feel for some sense of her actions, her journey home, where she’d gone. It was terrifying that she had wandered around the city in her amnesiac state. How long had it been? She’d left Jon around 1:00 p.m.

Light slanted through the high row of windows, about to disappear behind the building to the west. Her heart gave a single, hard thud. Way later than 2:00 p.m., which is about how long it would have taken to get home from the restaurant. She looked around for her phone, but her purse was across the room. Quaking, she turned her head to check the sunburst clock on the wall: 4:10.

Her legs wobbled, and she sank like a puppet to the floor.Three hours!Three hours wandering around the city without herself, Tillie without Tillie. She pressed her hands to her eyes, feeling panic swell through her body, squeezing the air from her lungs. The edges of her vision prickled, and she feared she would faint. Have a heart attack.

No. She thought of Liam telling her to breathe. In. Out. A long breath in,one, two, three, four. A longer breath out,one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight.

Again.

After a few rounds, she could think more clearly, but it didn’t help. The three hours were utterly blank. Where had she gone? What had she done? Standing up, she looked at the bag of loose tea, and it had the sticker from the co-op she and Liam had visited together, the place that smelled of patchouli and lost time.

A tickle of memory rose through the fog. As they’d left the brunch spot, parting ways with a big hug, she had smelled a strong waft of patchouli and yeast, and thought,That’s an odd combination.

The co-op was only a few blocks from the brunch spot where she’d had lunch with Jon. Maybe it was the smell that triggered her fugue state? She could imagine that she’d stopped by there to feel closer to Liam, relive a good moment, and then—

What?

Her phone. It tracked her path because she liked to keep track of her steps. The map followed her all over town. Jon thought it was creepy, but he had a robot in his apartment that listened when he spoke—and all the rest of the time—so he was one to talk.

The phone wasn’t in the pocket where she usually kept it, and when she dug through her bag, remembering that she’d dropped it inside at brunch, she couldn’t find it. She checked her sweater pocket. Usually, it was too heavy for that fabric, so she didn’t carry it there.

It was gone.