Nearly Broken

by Devon Ashley

  He waved me off like I was being silly. “I never get notice from waitresses. Besides, I’m grateful that Nick came in and gave me a break for a few weeks. It was nice to actually be at home when the sun went down. Don’t you worry about us. We’ll be back to normal around here in a day or so.”

  Nick came in with Darla and the four of us chit-chatted a bit more before we said our final goodbyes. I saw the flyer still on the bulletin board. I had no idea why, but I left it hanging there.

  Driving out of town felt surreal. I’d only been hiding in Myrtle Creek for a year and a half, but it felt like a lifetime. I didn’t have much of a past to look back on, nor did I have any idea of what to expect in the days to come. I was just thankful that the guy sitting next to me seemed to have a grip on both for me, and for that, I squeezed his hand just a little bit tighter.

  “Oh, wow. High-rise. Didn’t peg you for the type.”

  He chuckled as he pulled into the garage and headed for his assigned spot. “You’ll like this place. Guests only have access to the street entrance and they have to be buzzed in by the guard. Even if someone manages to bypass the door and the guard, there’s the steel door to our apartment to contend with. You should feel pretty safe when you’re home alone.”

  “Sledgehammer through the drywall?” I challenged.

  Turning off the engine, he tilted his head in a manner that screamed Really? “All right. You’ve got me there, but you’ll have plenty of time to call building security before anyone gets through. They’ll be upstairs within a minute. Not to mention, they’ll probably spot the guy with a sledgehammer on a camera long before he gets there.” Narrowing his eyes, he added, “Safe enough for you?”

  Playfully, I replied, “Eh. I guess it’ll do.”

  He unlocked the doors and lightly shoved me sideways. “Just get out of the car.”

  Truthfully, all those extra security measures did make me feel a little safer, but it still couldn’t keep me from scanning the garage’s shadows and memorizing the cars that took up the spaces nearest Nick’s.

  I met Chuck, the day guard, on our way to the elevators. Nick introduced me so he would know to let me through without questioning from now on. He also left a note for the night guard, Daniel, but unless I was with Nick, it was doubtful I’d be leaving the apartment at night anytime soon.

  “Wow,” I cooed, impressed over the view I saw the moment we stepped inside his living room. We were high enough up that you’d have to step close to the window to actually see most of the cityscape. From the front door, the view was mostly trees and the snow-capped Mount Hood in the distance.

  The weight cramping the muscles in my neck, I let the bag fall off my shoulder to the hardwood floor and stepped into the kitchen. There was a small island that matched the dark wood cabinets and countertop granite in shades of beiges, browns and golds. All of his appliances matched and had some kind of nickel coating, and what I assumed were expensive pots and pans hung from a rack on the ceiling. “Is this what they call a gourmet kitchen?”

  “You know it.”

  “Why am I not surprised?” I gaffed.

  “Come on. I’ll show you to your room.”

  Grabbing my bag, I followed him down the hallway to the first door on the left. “My room?”

  “Well, the guest room.” He dropped my extra bag on the hardwood by the dresser, and I did the same. Maybe he took my dumbfounded expression as a bad thing. And maybe it was. We’d spent the last two nights wrapped up in each other’s arms. I hadn’t really thought about living arrangements because I assumed we were sort of together now. Catching my confusion, he was quick to add, “We can still share a bed, if you’re comfortable with that. I just thought you might like your own space.”

  “Oh. Okay.” That made me feel a little better.

  Nick definitely liked dark woods, as the house was filled with them. This particular room had a dark walnut colored sleigh bed and a matching chest of drawers and bedside table. The linens were tan and the walls a creamy beige, so I literally felt like I was swimming in frothy coffee. And for some strange reason, I actually found the masculine colors and furniture comfortable. The only thing in this room that hint of gender neutrality were the charcoal sketches of flowers that were framed on the wall, but they were so simple there was nothing girly about them.

  “Uh, just so you know, there’s already some clothes in here for you.” He pulled open the door to the walk-in closet and stepped inside. I followed, eyeing the amount of clothing hanging on the racks.

  “Why? Was Claire here before?”

  “No. I didn’t get this place until after I began this job. But I won’t lie. After what happened, I chose this place because of the extra effort they put into security here.”

  “Then why all the clothes?” I asked, thumbing through the shirts.

  “Mrs. Whitaker dropped them off this morning. She wanted you to have them.”

  They were all long sleeved, so Nick must’ve told her about my dressing habits. There were also jeans, shoes and a few purses hanging on the end. No doubt this all came from Claire’s closet. I checked the shoe size purely out of curiosity. Surprise, surprise, another similarity.

  “You don’t have to use any of it if you don’t want to. We can bag it all up and give it to charity.”

  “No. It’s alright. A little weird, since we haven’t scientifically proven I’m Claire, but I could really use the extra clothing.” Mine were donated to begin with and were really beginning to look their age. I owed Mrs. Whitaker a big thank you, because Claire’s clothes were far nicer than anything I could afford. “Is she still here? Are we seeing them soon?”

  “We agreed she should head back home. Give you a chance to get settled. But they did invite us over for lunch next Sunday. Whether or not we go is up to you, because no one’s looking to rush you.”

  “It’s not that. I’m sure they’re nice people, I’d just rather know for sure first. I don’t want to lead them on if the test says I’m not Claire.”

  “Alright. Sounds fair. I’ll call Philippe later and see if we can meet up with him tomorrow.”

  After grabbing a quick bite to eat out and going grocery shopping, it was already eight o’clock. Ready to crash for the night, I couldn’t resist a soak in the garden tub in Nick’s master bathroom. Blaring music and humming along with the radio, I successfully managed to keep the thoughts from the dark part of my mind away. I only had a shower in my apartment and at the Breenie’s house, so this was my first bath since the fire. I was in awe over how much better my skin blended with the burn when red with heat.

  When I finally emerged in my typical nightwear, my skin was still flushed with heat. Nick was already buried under the covers, hands laced behind his head on the pillow. This room too had dark woods and linens, but what stuck out most was the picture frame on his bedside table. Judging by the shirt, I think it was taken on the same day as the one on the flyer, but this was a close-up of me and Nick kissing, probably taken by one of us in the process. Guess I was right about Claire smiling for someone incredibly special that day.

  Practically moaning, he stretched out his limbs as far as he could. “God, I have missed this bed. That couch of yours was like a knife to my back.”

  I climbed in beside him, snuggling against his chest as if I’d done it for years. “Is that why you started moving in on me? Just a ploy so you could get off the couch and into my bed for better sleep?”

  “Sorry, but your bed wasn’t much better. And no,” he added lightheartedly, “I moved in because I couldn’t take being that close to you without being able to actually touch you anymore. And you were so freaking stubborn about just giving in.”

  “I’m sorry,” I whispered, remembering the inner conflict tugging away at me, each side demanding my action to favor its side. It still felt a little weird that I was comfortable enough with someone to share my darkest moments.

  His arm wrapped around me and I practically purred over the feeling of being secure
d in his embrace. “It’s alright. I now understand the reasoning behind your hesitation. But you don’t have to worry here. You’re officially off the radar.”

  It was like he was reading my mind, and a half smile inched across my cheek. Head down. Stay off the radar.

  My feet tapped nervously on the tiled floor, my index finger wrapping itself up with the empty straw wrapper. Twist. Untwist. Twist. Untwist.

  “Relax,” Nick said. “Philippe won’t bite.”

  I let out a short, uncomfortable laugh. Maybe not bite, but the test he was going to run would determine my fate, so it was kind of hard not to be nervous. An obvious question just smacked me in the face, my eyes widening so far I almost strained their supportive muscles. “Does he know?”

  Nick looked up from his phone, his fingers no longer typing out whatever he was working on. Using a calming tone, he answered, “No. Nobody knows. Anyone that knows you went missing, Paul, Philippe, my boss, Anne, they all think you’re amnesic from being traumatized by the fire. No one’s going to know the truth unless you want to tell them. Your family and I, we’re not going to take that decision away from you.”

  I said, “Claire’s family,” extremely softly, but he still heard me and frowned. Regardless, he reached over to stroke my hand. “Just a few more days and you won’t have to doubt that anymore.”

  I offered a pressed smile and he resumed typing. “You know, she called me all frantic that night.”

  “Thea?” I asked, figuring that was who he was talking about.

  “Yep. Obviously, she called her parents first.” I withheld a smile, noting that he said her parents instead of your parents. He laid his phone aside, resting his elbows on the table, clamping his hands together right in front of his chin. “When she called me it was sometime after two in the morning and she was practically screaming on the other end. And when she wasn’t blowing out my ear, she was either crying or hyperventilating. She was ecstatic and upset all at the same time, because she had found you but still couldn’t even hug you or tell you how much she missed and loved you. You have no idea how hard it was for her to walk away from you that night. She said she didn’t even make it to the car before she started bawling.”

  My eyes wet themselves but tears didn’t flow. I might have a sister. One that would pick up and travel late night to a diner in the middle of nowhere just because there was infinitesimal chance that lead could bring her sister home. And it made me feel loved, or at least made me feel the love for Claire, and made me want to cry. I truly hoped this whole Claire debacle worked out the way everyone desperately needed it to. I’d hate for this to come back negative and rip their hearts apart, making every single one of us feel that loss all over again.

  Desperately trying to keep myself from crying, I sipped at my water and changed the subject. “You were two grades ahead of Claire in school, right?”

  “Yep. We met when she was a sophomore and I was a senior.”

  One eye cocked, I asked, “Does that make you the same year as Thea?”

  A really amused smile slowly fought its way into a curl. “I know where you’re going with this.”

  “Uh-huh.” Sip.

  “You want to know why I ended up with Claire when Thea was the one in my classes?”

  “Uh-huh.” Sip.

  His gaze temporarily gazed over my shoulder. “Well, too bad. That’s a discussion for later.”

  “Is Philippe here?”

  “Yes, but it’s also a discussion for when we’ve proven you’re Claire, because the day we met is a private memory that only the two of us know the specifics of, and I’ll only share that memory with her.”

  But I’d never be Claire, even if the DNA said I was. Not really, at least.

  Nick stood just as Philippe got to our table, reaching out to shake his hand and say hello. He introduced me and I shook his hand as well, before he took up the seat beside me and across from Nick. I couldn’t be sure, but he looked and had an accent that made me think he had a Spanish background, with light brown skin and dark hair and eyes.

  “Sorry I’m late, man. I’ve been fighting all morning to get the quality control for one of my tests to work right.” He flagged down a waitress as he said that and ordered his drink. Then we went around the table giving her our lunch requests.

  “So,” Philippe said, turning his attention to me. “DNA test. We need to find out if Megan and Claire are one in the same, right?”

  “Right,” I confirmed. “Is that weird?”

  “Not at all. DNA tests are pretty common these days. The cops are using them to match up victims with suspects and regular people are trying to prove whether or not there’s a genetic link between parents and children. I will say that, for me, this is the first time I’ve had a case where the client is amnesic.”

  “Woo-hoo,” I said with obvious fake enthusiasm. “Lucky me. Special case.” One more thing to make me stand out in the crowd. Awesome. Head down. Stay off the radar.

  At least Philippe and Nick found my snark amusing, because it got them to chuckle a little.

  “Alright, enough shop talk. Nick, tell me what’s been going on with you this past year. I haven’t seen you at the club in forever. You no longer feeling the vibe for live music, man?”

  “Nah, it’s not that. I picked up a Sous Chef position over at Kettle Fusion that quickly turned into Executive Sous Chef, so I’m not getting off as early as I used to.”

  “No shit? How the hell did you pull that off?”

  “Luck. I had been the Sous Chef for a few months when the exec bailed for another job, and my boss loves me. So I slid right in long before I ever should’ve qualified for that position.”

  “Cool. Think you can hook me up with a table sometime? My girl really wants to try that place out.”

  “Yeah, man. I can get you squeezed in any night you want.”

  I continued to listen to them catch up. I wasn’t a huge part of the conversation, but I didn’t care, as I was enjoying watching the two interact. It was interesting to see how Nick acted around an old buddy, laughing and boasting over things done since they last met up. After awhile, I still tuned out, too interested on re-scanning the restaurant for an unwanted individual that never escaped my thoughts. When Nick arched an eyebrow my way, I did everything I could to make it look like I wasn’t doing that very thing. Scary thing was, the face that haunted me was sort of beginning to blur in my mind, and I began to worry that it may disappear altogether one day. And while that could possibly be considered a good thing, it could also be the worst thing ever if he was still chasing me down.

  Before we parted, I took out the plastic bag in my purse that contained the hairs I plucked from my scalp that morning and the paperwork he had emailed Nick with, a form titled Chain of Custody that I had already filled out. I also pulled a second bag that contained some of the hairs I pulled from Claire’s hairbrush. Apparently, Mrs. Whitaker knew to bag and bring that with her when she brought over the clothes. I felt odd handling it, and was tempted to leave the entire brush in the bag instead of pulling the hair free to send alone, but I figured we should keep it in case further testing was needed.

  “Alright,” Philippe said, pulling out a cotton swab in a tube. “I only asked for your hairs because that’s all we seem to have for Claire, but I want to swab your cheek too, okay?” I nodded and opened my mouth, letting him rub the cotton tip against the inside of my mouth. “Alright. Everything’s in order. Normally the waiting list is a few weeks, but I’ll make sure you get results in a couple of days.”

  We thanked him and said our goodbyes before Nick paid the check and we left. This was Nick’s last night off before he was scheduled to return to work at the restaurant, which I now understood to be one of those posh ones people had a hard time getting reservations to. No wonder he could afford that apartment without busting the bank.

  We didn’t have to worry about rushing home, so he took me to a spot along the Columbia River that he liked. We walked along it for awhi
le, soaking up the sun, sights and sounds around us. I loved how fresh and crisp the air was through my nose and down my throat, mostly due to the millions of trees surrounding the city. And I loved the beauty of the river splashing along its course with the vividly green and white mountain filling in the background.

  After that, we spent a few more hours relaxing at the theater. He was kind to oblige my request of a romantic comedy, since I really didn’t want to see anything that involved horror, torture, or scenes that were downright disturbing. Later, he insisted I help him make a simple dinner, knowing full well I needed a major crash course in cooking. But simple for me and simple for Nick were two completely different things. I’m not sure how much of his lesson I actually absorbed, because my instructor couldn’t seem to keep his hands off my body as he guided my every movement from behind. Though I will say that meatballs and rice was the perfect comfort food to end the day with.

  I knew I probably shouldn’t be sharing a bed with Nick until the results came back, but I just couldn’t help myself. I needed him beside me when I slept, because it was the only time I felt safe enough to actually sleep a little through the night.

  Even if there was a chance he may not be really mine, for today, maybe even tomorrow, he was mine. And I wanted him, wanted every single touch he was willing to give while I could still call him my own.

  After my shower, when I perused the drawers of the dresser for the first time, I came across a collection of cotton tanks and shorts. I pulled a top out and stared at it longingly, remembering a time when I lived with my so-called fake parents, when I used to prefer the thin cotton over all others. Rubbing the tank between my fingertips, I let my butt crash atop the bed, beginning to debate whether or not to put it on. I hated feeling embarrassed about my skin, even horrified at times.

  I shook my head at myself. When was enough going to be enough? Nick had already seen them several times, particularly the worst of the worst. Yet he was still here. His hands still continued to caress my skin without hesitation, without disgust. He moved me into his home for crying out loud! So if he could see past the abnormality, why couldn’t I?