“Giana? The doctor is here. Do you want me to help you get
out?” Please say no. For the love of God, please say no. She
couldn’t handle seeing Giana Thompson naked on top of
everything else. She hadn’t followed her into the bathroom
and hadn’t looked past the crack in the door.
“No, I’m good. I’m…I’m coming.” Hesitation. What was
the uncertainty there? Fear? Of doctors, of being examined, or
of what they might find to be wrong with her head?
Coralyn waited an eternity on the other side of the door,
each moment worse than the last. The necklace felt like a sin
in her pocket. She clenched her jaw, grinding down on her
teeth. One socked foot beat out a pattern against the hardwood
floor. She’d taken her boots off at the door. Her socks didn’t
match. They never matched. One had cats on it. The other,
slices of pizza. She couldn’t breathe with the waiting.
The door opened and there was Giana, dressed again in her
black slacks and her black blouse from the office. She’d left
the jacket off. Her hair had been thrown up into a messy bun.
She’d washed her makeup off in the bath, and seeing her face
like that, clear and naked, almost vulnerable, was like a blow
to the abdomen. “Okay. Where is he?”
“In the…in the living room.” It was hard to catch her breath.
Giana took it for worry and patted Coralyn’s cheek as she
walked by.
“Everything will be fine. I’m good.”
“If you still can’t remember, then you’re not fine.” If you
haven’t thrown me out and called the cops yet, then you’re not
alright.
“It might just take time. I was thinking about it, and I read
something where someone had the same thing and they could