Attached you will find the list that I was telling you about. Pick any one and get started on your path to healing. Good luck. I’ll see you on Monday.
Sincerely,
Dr. Perry
I double-click on the attachment and a list of names pop up.
Casey Dean Becker
Patrick Eric Malone
Richard Lee Farnsworth
Jason James Newman
Paul Thomas Johnson
Jeremy Michael Wilkinson
Daniel Robert Gladney
Todd Wilson Blair
Jacob Matthew Dicenzo
Eric Robert Recendez
Maxwell Lucas Albert
Shane Emil Lopez
Blake Kenneth Haines
Christopher Marcus Holguin
Kevin Aaron Witte
Devin Ulysses Clay
I suck in a sharp breath at the sight of his name. “Impossible,” I murmur, sitting up in the recliner. There is no way that there’s more than one Devin Ulysses Clay walking this earth. It’s impossible. Right?
Scratching my head, I inspect the name, reading it several more times to make sure my eyes aren’t playing tricks on me. The hair on the back of my neck stands up and a small shiver runs down my spine. No way. What are the chances of this?
I click on his name, but all it tells me is that Devin Ulysses Clay is a twenty-seven-year-old sergeant in the U.S. Army.
Well, I’ll be damned.
My eyes continue searching for any information I can glean, but it only provides me with a postal address. I grab a pen and paper to write it down. I don’t even bother looking at any other names because this is it. Devin is yet another connection to my past—a connection that still doesn’t feel resolved.
Closing my eyes, I tip my head back, letting the memory take over, a memory that I can drown my anger in.
I can’t believe he’s leaving. Tugging my comforter to my chin, I curl up into a ball and cry—really cry—over what all of this means. My mind sifts through memories, one by one, as though it’s putting them into tiny little keepsake boxes so I’ll be able to pull them out whenever I want.
The day we first met.
Falling out of a tree and sitting side by side in the emergency room as I got a hot pink cast put on my right arm and he got twelve stitches in the side of
his face.