Dream On(96)
When the server approaches my table for the third time asking if I’m ready for the check, I finally nod. The couple is nearly finished as well. The man—Devin—has gone to the restroom and the woman is scrolling through her phone. I check the time; it’s after nine o’clock, and I still have a long drive ahead of me before I can finally crawl into bed and surrender to exhaustion.
Gathering my bag, I reluctantly leave. On my way out, I veer toward the restrooms—a pit stop is always a good idea before a long drive—and pause at the mirror in the back hallway to study my reflection.
My cheeks are hollow and the purple smudges under my eyes that have become a permanent fixture these last few months are bruise-dark. Today might have been the end of one long, arduous journey, but it marks the beginning of another. Sighing, I turn at the same moment the door to the men’s room swings open beside me, and I find myself face-to-face with the man from the next table over—Devin.
He glances at me, his smile stretching across his model-worthy face. “Excuse me,” he murmurs. The lights above us flicker twice as I watch him pass me in the mirror until he disappears from view.
Ten minutes later, I steer my car onto I-71, the highway that will take me home, and suppress a yawn that feels like it’s birthed from the depths of my very marrow. Only two hours until bed. I can make it…
I never make it.
I vaguely recall exhaustion tugging at me throughout the drive, but I stubbornly refuse to stop. I crack the windows, blast music, and think about the couple on the date next to me. Their stories, their history, their lives. The man’s beaming smile and intoxicating confidence… my own loneliness…
The next thing I know, I’m in the hospital and Brie is holding my hand, imploring me to come back to her.
* * *
“Cass, what’s wrong?” Devin’s face blurs into focus. He’s kneeling in front of me on the sidewalk and gripping my shoulders, mouth a slash of concern. Mercedes is standing beside him, wide-eyed and rigid.
“I’m okay.” Using his body as leverage, I heave to my feet. My knees ache where I slammed them on the pavement, but I ignore the pain. Devin stands.
“I remember you. Both of you,” I add, nodding at Mercedes.
“What are you talking about? We’ve been working together all summer. I should hope you’d remember me,” she says, a skeptical look of concern on her face.
“No. I don’t mean that.” Shaking my head, I return my attention to Devin. “I finally know why I woke up from my coma thinking I knew you. I was there, on your first date with Mercedes. I was sitting at the table next to you, and I overheard everything. Your entire conversation.”
Devin’s mouth falls open and his arms go slack at his sides. After several seconds of stunned silence, he shakes his head. “No, that’s… that can’t be.”
“It can. Last July, I was in Columbus for the bar exam. I’d finished earlier that day, and decided to explore the city. After touring a couple galleries, I treated myself to dinner. You were seated next to me at one of those tiny two-person tables they squash together—Mercedes, you sat in the booth beside me, and Devin, you were across from her. The tables were so close together I could see you clearly, which must be why I was able to draw Devin so accurately. Except for the scar, which I must not have noticed since he was seated on my right and his scar is on the left side of his face.”
“That still doesn’t explain why you woke up thinking I was your boyfriend,” he splutters.
Pursing my lips, I rub my forehead. “My brain must have scrambled my memories when I had the accident, conflating actual events with imagined ones. You told Mercedes… Sadie”—I correct; the name tastes strange on my tongue—“all about your life, your interests, your parents, Blooms & Baubles, everything. You wore your scarf—the red one with white squares. And you brought Mercedes flowers. I didn’t have anything better to do, so I listened. Later that night, I was driving back to Cleveland when I fell asleep at the wheel and crashed my car. I guess I’d been thinking about your date, and your stories sort of soaked into my consciousness. When I saw you two standing together just now, it all came back to me.”
“Holy shit,” he breathes. “I can’t believe you finally figured it out.”
Mercedes raises her hand like she’s in class. “Excuse me, what in the world is going on here? Cass, when were you in a coma? And what’s all this about thinking Devin was your boyfriend? I thought he was your boyfriend. You two were together this summer, right?”
“Yeah, but it’s complicated…” I trail off, looking at her hard. “Wait. How did you know that? I never told you Devin was my boyfriend. In fact, I made it a point not to mention his name because, honestly, I didn’t trust you.”
Her cheeks flush. “I overheard you talking to him on the phone last month. The day he stopped by the office to see you.”
“Why didn’t you tell me he was your ex then—that you were Sadie?”
Devin snorts. “Because she wanted to manipulate you. That’s what she does.”
“Screw you, Devin,” she spits, eyes blazing with hatred. “I wasn’t trying to manipulate anyone. Cass, I wanted to tell you, but I didn’t know how.”
“I’m sorry, but I find that hard to believe.”