One of Those Faces (92)

I pushed back from the table and grabbed my bag. “No, it’s fine. I’ll fill it out later.” I tuned out his parting words and left through the office door. I stood on the curb, staring at the traffic passing by. I was looking in the wrong neighborhood. I couldn’t afford Wicker Park. Not safe, new Wicker Park.

My phone chimed, and I pulled it out of my pocket. Danny had sent me a link. I clicked on it. It brought me to the Classifieds page of the Chicago Sun-Times.

Month-to-month studio near Logan Square.

Even though we had barely spoken since our fight, Danny had been incredibly active in my new apartment search. I figured it was because he feared I might try to move back in with Iann out of desperation. I had already begun regretting asserting my independence and leaving Danny’s place that night.

I had been awake for the past three nights straight because I couldn’t fall asleep in my apartment. I had lain across the empty bed with all the lights on, keeping my eyes focused on TV reruns to avoid the imagined shadows creeping in across the room.

I called him.

“Hey,” he answered flatly.

“Thanks for the lead,” I said, ignoring his tone. “I struck out again in Wicker Park.”

“Um-hmm.”

I rolled my eyes. “I’m going to call about that listing.”

“Okay.” A car horn honked in the background on his end.

My patience was thinning. “I wanted to say thanks. That’s it,” I said. “Bye.”

“Wait!” he said, his tone livening back up. “Are you free tonight?”

I hesitated. “Yes.”

“We need to talk. Let’s get dinner.” The words sounded serious, but his tone was light.

I smiled. “Okay. I’ll come over at six?”

“Perfect. See you then.”



I had raised my hand to knock on the door when it suddenly opened. It was Carlos. We had only had quick exchanges during awkward run-ins going to and from the bathroom in previous weeks.

He grinned. “Hi?”

“Hi, is Danny in?”

He shook his head. “I don’t think so.”

“I’m supposed to meet him for dinner.”

He opened the door wider. “I’m heading out, but you can wait for him inside.”

I slid in behind him. “Thanks.”

He closed the door and locked it from the hallway.

I walked past the kitchen and sank onto the sofa, still wearing my coat. I dug my phone out from my pocket. I was actually twenty minutes late, so I wouldn’t have enough time to make myself cozy.



“Harper?”

My eyes blinked open. The room was dark, only the one lamp in the corner switched on, the light blocked by Carlos crouching over me on the couch. I leaned away from Carlos, but his hands were still resting on both my shoulders. “What’s going on?” I picked my head up from the cushion. My body was heavy from my coat, still zipped up to my neck.

His face was pale. He stepped back.

“I’m sorry,” I said weakly. I cleared my throat. “Did I fall asleep?” I looked around the room for Danny.

“Harper,” he said again. “Danny was in an accident.”

My muscles tensed.

“Harper?” Carlos sat beside me. “They took him to the hospital, but . . .” He swallowed. “He’s critical right now. They don’t think he’ll wake up.”

I focused on my hands. I couldn’t feel them. They blurred in the dark in front of me. “Where is he?”

“He’s at UC Medical,” he said softly.

I stood although I couldn’t feel my legs.

“I’m heading there now. Let’s go together.”

I didn’t remember walking outside the apartment or the car ride. I saw the blindingly white halls of the hospital. I smelled the musk reeking from each room as I followed Carlos. He spoke to me, but I could only hear a murmur beyond the ringing in my ears. I trailed behind him into a room.

Danny was lying on the hospital bed. His head was wrapped in white gauze; only his forehead and down were visible. His mouth gaped open, tubes trailing out and down his chest, like electrical cords.

I blinked, and my cheeks were wet. I touched a hand to my face.

Carlos put his hand on my shoulder, but I couldn’t feel it.





CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN


I lay on my bed, staring up at the ceiling, the room rotating. I pushed the bottle of rum away from my chest, and it fell to the floor with a thud, the last drops swishing.

There was a large blank spot from the early morning from when I’d seen Danny lying in the hospital to when I’d watched Carlos’s car drive away from the curb in front of my apartment.

Car accident. Coma.

Those were the only words that had stuck. The “how” was lost somewhere in my blackout hours.

Everyone you care about is hurt.

I sat up, leaning my head back against the wall until my nausea subsided.

You are toxic.

There had been no sounds from the street for hours now.

You are a disease.

My eyes clouded with tears.

I rolled over to the side and dangled my feet for a moment before standing. I grabbed a used blue sweater hanging out from under the bed and tugged it over my head, inhaling old cat fur as I did. I scrambled through a pile on the floor and found a pair of crumpled jeans and pulled them over my hips before I realized I was still wearing my pajama shorts. I sighed and buttoned them anyway. I wasn’t sure I had the motor function to redo that whole movement.