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TANA
Later the day, I’m surprised to find myself missing Alec.
Which doesn’t make sense. I barely know him. What’s there to miss? Sure, he visited me every day in the hospital, and, aside from the healthcare workers, he’s my only other touchstone to my new life. It’s probably just familiarity. Or what little familiarity we have.
It’s probably because this is the first time I've had any real alone time since I woke up in the hospital. If he wasn’t there visiting, nurses were coming in and out or doctors or specialists. There was just always someone around. Maybe I found comfort in the background noise of the hospital and staff and all the sounds around me. It reminded me that I wasn’t alone. Because now that there’s no one else here, I’m alone with my thoughts. It’s quiet, and there’s only me.
True, Alec is a stranger, but so am I. There’s a huge blank spot where the old Tana used to be. And like the doctors have been telling me, I have to get to know the me I am now.
Before I give Alec or the girls answers or figure out anything else, I have to start there.
Talking to Alec helps. It gives me a glimpse into the life that I used to have. But I also want to figure some of those things out on my own.
This is the perfect time to do that. After he left, I wandered around like a lost kitten. I went from room to room just looking at things. I was mostly drawn to the girls’ rooms. I didn’t invade their space or go through any of their things; I just stood in the doorway and looked around. Pretty much like a creep, but I didn’t think they’d mind. Well, Paisley might’ve minded, so I didn’t stay too long by her room. Gemma probably would have invited me in to play. It’s incredible that I already have such a sense of them after such a short time. I wonder if that’s some sort of maternal intuition coming out.
I did the same thing with the rest of the rooms in the house. Alec had told me to make myself at home. He said nothing was off-limits. But I still felt weird going into his—our—bedroom. I don’t think I’ll ever get over how strange it is to know this house, this place and these things, belong to me yet feel so distant from all of it.
That sensation couldn’t be more prevalent than when I open the Alec’s bedroom door, and I’m bombarded with a variety of scents. The first is something floral, feminine. It must be my perfume. I think of Alec sleeping here, smelling my perfume, and being alone. A wave of empathy crashes over me. I wish this didn’t have to be so hard on him.
There’s nothing I can do about that. I feel I owe it to him—and to the girls—for caring for me to learn more about the woman I used to be, so I head straight for the closet. I feel like seeing her clothes. And I have to think about before me as her because she feels so separate. Seeing her clothes may help get a glimpse inside her head.
It’s a generous walk-in closet. Alec’s clothes and uniforms are to the right, and mine pretty much take up seventy-five percent of what remains. I guess in that aspect we were pretty stereotypical. Even though I came into the closet to look at her clothes, I’m drawn to his instead.
I might as well get to know him as well. I don’t think he’ll mind. Hanging in neat lines on his side are several uniform T-shirts, tactical-looking pants, and other basic T-shirts, most of which look like they need to be thrown out because they’re covered in grease stains, and God knows what else. There are a couple button-down, long-sleeved shirts that look dressier and then hoodies and jackets. But I don’t see any regular, non-work pants. I know it’s Florida, but it gets cold sometimes. Does he have some sort of grudge against pants?
The thought makes me smile because, of course, he would. I imagine if he’s not at work, he’s outside or playing with the girls. His style leans more toward efficient comfort. Which pretty much describes him, to my mind. But I can’t help but think he would look great in a pair of somewhat fitted blue jeans. I may not have my memories of him, but I know there’s something about a man in tight jeans. My mouth waters somewhat at the thought of him in them, and I clear my throat even though there’s no one around. I force myself to move from his side of the closet to what used to be mine. I’ve got to stop thinking of him like that, but thoughts of him have assaulted me ever since that kiss.
Stop thinking about it, Tana.
Does a woman even need this many clothes? As I rifle through them, my eyebrows move higher toward my hairline. There are dozens of blouses, skirts, pants, and dresses. Certainly too many for one person to wear. I could pick one thing each day and still have more left at the end of the year. Before–me must have liked her clothes. Since the total of my wardrobe for the past month has been yoga pants or a hospital gown, all the fancy fabrics and indulgently flamboyant heels are overwhelming. Foreign. I’ve seen her Instagram and while she was gorgeous I just can’t picture her influencer chic style meshing with Alec’s rugged simplicity. He must have really loved her.
Right now, I think I’d just be happy to dress more like Alec. Simple. Maybe a pair of shorts and a t-shirt. But I decide to try some of them on anyway to see if I’m wrong. First a summer sundress. It’s beautiful, but I don’t know. The dress fits me like a second skin, following my curves and accentuating all my positive attributes while camouflaging my insecurities. I had to hand to her, she had excellent taste. I feel like I’m playing dress up in someone else’s clothes.
I guess I sort of am.
I go through all the clothes and decide on a simple pair of jeans and a nice fitted T-shirt. Low-key, that’s the new and improved Tana Dorran. She likes spaghetti and cheesecake and prefers shorts and a t-shirt to fancy dresses. There. At least I’m getting to know after-me. It’s about damn time.
I don’t want to invade Alec’s privacy anymore, so I leave the bedroom and go downstairs to relax with some TV. I don’t recognize any of the shows I see. There are dozens of apps to choose from, and I settle on some sort of crime show. After six episodes, dark has fallen, and I realize most of the evening has passed me by. Well, screw it. At least I learned something else about after-me. I like true crime. Now that I’ve been through my own horror story, it helps to see some of them tied up neatly with a bow. It was comforting that most of them were solved at the end of a half-hour. I wish my own problems could be solved as easily as those on TV.
I contemplate what to make for dinner when I hear a knock at the door. Thinking it may be Tracy like Alec said, I cross to it shouting, “Just a second,” before I look through the peephole and see a scruffy man I don’t recognize. I shift from foot to foot as I contemplate what to say. The man gives an impatient huff and bangs his fist on the door again when I don’t open it immediately. Thump thump thump. Dammit, I shouldn’t have said anything.
My heart slams into my chest. It doesn’t seem like this is a friendly visit from a neighbor. The scowl on his face makes deep grooves in his cheeks. His eyes are hazy red and unfocused. I imagine if there wasn’t a door between us, the scent of alcohol would be noxious and overwhelming.
Nope. No way in hell I’m opening that door. Probably some guy who had too much fun on his Friday night and is looking for trouble.
Well, I’ve had enough trouble for a lifetime. I don’t need any more.
“Open the door!” he shouts. Like that’ll happen. What kind of delusional psycho thinks that would actually get someone to open the door? “Open the door, bitch. I heard you and know you’re there.”
Lovely. I throw the bolt and hook the security chain for good measure. He’s still banging away, so he doesn’t hear me. While he’s distracted and hollering at the front door, I preemptively lock the back door, too. I give a passing thought to calling Alec, but he’s busy at work. If worse comes to worst, I'll call the cops. For now, I barricade myself in the closet in my room and wait until it’s quiet.
Thankfully, the drunk gives up after a couple more minutes of hollering. I come out of the closet and peer through the peephole, but the front porch is empty. What a freak show.
What I really want is a beer—do I even like beer?—but don’t find any in the fridge so I settle for a glass of ice-cold sweet tea and bring it with me to the shower. The heat feels amazing. I swear the water never got quite warm enough at the hospital. I stay under the spray until the ice in my tea melts. I’m putting on a robe and thinking about vegging on the couch with more episodes of my latest true crime obsession when I hear another knock at the door.
Oh god, not again. This guy really needs to lay off the booze.
I peer through the peephole and find not the drunk but a woman on the other side. Relieved, I open the door and only remember I’m in a robe at the last second. “Yes?” I ask.
She’s about my age with soft brown hair and thick-rimmed glasses. “Hey, Tana. I’m sorry to come over so late.”
Squinting at her, I tug at the lapels of my robe. “That’s okay. Um, I’m sorry, but what’s you’re name?” I give her a sympathetic smile.
The woman smacks her forehead. “Duh, I’m sorry. I’m Angela, your next-door neighbor. I heard all the yelling and thought I’d check on you. I think my dad’s been drinking again. I wanted to apologize if he scared you.”
Relieved to have an explanation, my shoulders relax. “That was your dad?”
Angela leans against the doorjamb, sighs, and swipes some hair away from her glasses. She has the harried kind of anxiety I remember feeling after waking up in the hospital. “Yeah, Leon. He’s had a rough week at work. You know how it goes.” She lifts a shoulder.
“Thank you for letting me know.”
Pushing away from the door, Angela says, “We’re next door if you need anything. I’ll keep a muzzle on Dad next time he gets into the beer cooler.”
I laugh awkwardly and wave at her as she crosses the yard to a brick house on my left. The yard needs a serious trim, and there are two broken-down cars in the driveway. But who am I to judge? I can’t even remember my own name sometimes. Closing the door, I push the interaction from my mind. I won’t let one weird guy ruin my first free weekend.
I’m going to spend tonight binging more crime shows, and then tomorrow, I’m going to find an empty hiking trail to explore.
Of course, the true crime peeps on the show would probably tell me not to go hiking alone but screw that. I’ll pack a can of hairspray or something for protection.
By the time I fall asleep a couple hours later, like so many other things, the whole interaction is forgotten.
