Page 29 of Stay Awake
The main office is deserted when I emerge in my new clothes and fresh makeup. I feel bereft as I watch everyone talking animatedly in glass-walled meeting rooms scattered around the office, probably planning the next issues of the magazine.
I don’t belong here anymore. That thought pierces me with a visceral sense of irretrievable loss. I loved working atCultura. Being here, doing this job was among the happiest times of my life. I don’t know how I became an interloper in my own life. I could ask Josie or someone else to fill me in, but I’m embarrassed to reveal how confused I am.
I dial Amy again. She’s a doctor. She’ll tell me what to do. I can almost hear her faintly amused voice telling me to sleep it off, the way she has countless times when I was wooly-headed from a hangover, or a bad flu.
Unfortunately, Amy’s phone is still turned off. I consider asking the hospital to page her, but I know that Amy hates getting personal calls at work. In the end I call Marco. Sheer relief runs through me when my call is answered.
“Marco!”
“Who is this?” a man snaps.
“Marco?” My voice lilts uncertainly.
“There’s no Marco here.”
“But… this is Marco’s phone?”
“Listen, lady, for the millionth time, this is a wrong number. How many times do I have to tell you the same thing!”
A dejected click tells me he’s hung up on me. I dial the number again. This time I double-check to make sure it’s correct.
“Lady,” says the same gruff voice as before. “I told you already. You’ve dialed the wrong number.”
“It’s definitely Marco’s number.” Hysteria rises inside of me.
“No, it’s not. Just like I told you the last time you called. And the time before that. And the time before that. You get my drift.”
I don’t get it. I’m certain this is Marco’s cell phone number. “Is Marco ghosting me?” I ask. “Tell him that Liv called. I’m his girlfriend. I need to speak to him. It’s urgent.”
“Trust me, lady. This is the wrong number. You need to stop calling,” he shouts over a grinding truck engine before hanging up.
The conversation drains me. I put my head in my hands. Everything has changed beyond recognition. The office. Me. The scar, I think, as I absentmindedly rub it through my borrowed designer clothes.
On the office television set, a news report flashes again on the screen, with that shot of the wordsWAKE UP!written on an apartment building window.
I have the same message written on my skin. It must be more than a coincidence. I’m consumed by a powerful urge to go there. Maybe being there will bring back my memory and dissolve the confusion that has hung over me like a blinding fog ever since I woke on the park bench.
The article I’d read earlier mentioned the location of the building where the murder took place. I check the article again. It’s near the corner of Fifty-Third and Lexington.
As I leave the office, the receptionist asks whether I spoke with the man whose call she transferred earlier. I shudder when I remember the frightening voice on the phone, his tone accusing and cajoling at the same time.
“I spoke with him.”
“He called again. He said the first call was cut off. I transferred him to you but you didn’t pick up.”
“I was in a meeting.”
“Oh. He said he’ll swing by later. In fact, he asked me to tell you to stay in the office until he gets here. He says it’s important.”
“I have an appointment and I’m already late,” I lie, rushing out of the office even faster.
Nine subway stops and five minutes’ walk later, I’m standing outside the apartment building that I recognize from the news bulletin.
A police car and a forensics van are parked on the curb near police barricades. Uniformed cops stand on the sidewalk at the entrance. A few residents wait to be allowed inside, visibly annoyed at having to line up to get into their own building.
Onlookers loiter behind the barricade. I don’t join them. I feel intimidated by the heavy police presence. Instead I go into a high-end shoe shop directly across the street. I pretend to look at the boots in the window display, while surreptitiously watching the police outside the building.
“Can I help?” I almost jump as a shop assistant comes from behind me.
