I strummed the last few chords.
Complete silence greeted me.
The residents were used to her outbursts and had the songs memorized just as well as I did, but it was my voice that did it. We even tried a recording once — didn’t work.
“That makes me happy.” Princess giggled. “Park, remember when we danced?”
“Yeah.” Visions of her dancing in front of me on two legs that worked flooded my mind until I wanted to bang my head against the wall. “You were always so much better than me.”
“Hmm.” She sighed.
The doors to the room opened and Martha strolled in.
“Hey, Princess, why don’t you and Martha go grab a snack while I talk to Saylor for a bit.”
“Okay!” Princess yelled. “And Saylor, his name’s Parker, not Gabe.”
“Got it,” Saylor said quickly. “Thanks for your help, Princess.”
“It’s okay,” she said, surprising me. “You didn’t know. But now you know, so you’ll call him Park.”
I didn’t want her calling me Park.
It was too much.
Too close.
“Yup!” Saylor’s voice had a cheerful edge. “I’ll call him Park, though it sounds like he’s a car.”
Princess laughed as Martha wheeled her off.
When Princess was out of earshot I grabbed Saylor’s arm and took her out the doors on the opposite end of the room — the ones that lead outside to the water. “Let’s take a walk.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
And we’re back to my original hypothesis — multiple personalities, well at least he named them. That had to be a good sign, right? —Saylor
Saylor
I followed Gabe silently out the doors into the crisp afternoon air. The home was nestled right up against Puget Sound. It had to have cost a fortune. It was prime real estate. Everywhere you looked you saw the tall buildings of downtown Seattle.
I’d grown up in the area — but the view never ceased to take my breath away, or calm me down. There was just something about the ocean that made you feel small.
It made you realize life was bigger than just you.
And I was beginning to think I needed that reminder on a daily basis.
“So…” Gabe thrust his hands into his pockets and fell into step along side me. “Wow, amazing. I can’t even come up with a lie that makes sense.”
I shrugged. “So try the truth.”
“Haven’t made a habit of that.” He stopped walking, and lifted his head. “That’s the truth.”
“Maybe you should.” I swallowed and gave a half shrug. “Make a habit of it, I mean.”
“Hmm.” He put his arm around my shoulders and in silence led me closer to the water.
When we reached the edge, he bent over, picked up a rock, and threw it.