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The last part is so full of contempt that I cringe.
"Cal, I get you are pissed and hurt and whatnot, but they just tried to protect you. They did what they were asked to do—andmore. They love you."
Lilly presses her lips together and grumbles, "Why do you always have to be so reasonable?"
"I’m just telling you how it is. You only get the truth from me."
"Except for when you stopped talking to me," she snarls.
Well, if that wasn’t a kick straight to the balls.
I can hear the hurt in her voice, but in a knee-jerk reaction, I can’t stop myself from snapping back. "That was a fucking cheap shot. You know damn well I had no choice."
Her eyes widen at my sharp response. It sounded harsher than I intended, and I take a deep breath, softening my tone. "You have no idea how often I came this close to telling you. This shitshow has been eating me up for years, and I couldn’t do anything about it."
She averts her eyes, whispering, "I’m sorry."
"I know I was a dick to you, and you have every right to be pissed. So, let’s come up with a plan about how we’re going to pull this off." I mean it; I want to help her in any way possible. Lilly is in charge. It’s her life that has been turned upside down.
In the end, we decide to keep going as before. The thought of having to continue ignoring her in public doesn’t sit right with me, but I respect her wish—for now.
Later,Lilly sits on her bed with her papers and notes, and I’m on the floor, watching more news videos with my headphones on, when all of a sudden, a mass of paper rains down on me.
What the fuck?
I turn around, and Lilly is sitting in the middle of the bed with tears in her eyes and her fists balled into her cardigan. Getting up, I cautiously sit on the edge.
My hands are raised like I’m trying not to startle a feral animal. "Cal?"
"This isn’t getting us anywhere," her voice cracks. "We’ve read every single article five times. There is no new information." She lets go of the sweater and slams her flat palms onto the comforter.
She’s frustrated; I can deal with that. When I saw the tears, my initial thought was that she had another migraine. Seeing it twice was more than enough for me, especially knowing what it is.
We sit in silence for several minutes. Lilly is breathing heavily and trying to regain control. I want to comfort her, but I don’t know how.
While she struggles to calm herself, I have an idea. "Let’s take a different approach."
Her eyes swivel to mine with a big question mark.
"Instead of only listening to what the media reported, why don’t we look at it from your point of view?"
"What do you mean?"
I try to explain, "Well, so far we’ve been looking at it from other people’s points of view—everyone who ever reported about the kidnappings. No one knew anything about you, except that you were the first and you were dropped off at the ER anonymously. Let’s start with your migraines again. You were in a room—a nice room, at that. Think about what you’ve seen in those memories."
Lilly gets up and digs through a pile of papers on the floor. She pulls out the one containing the notes she made of her migraines, settles back on the bed, and closes her eyes. After a few deep inhales and exhales, she starts talking in a low voice—more to herself than to me. "Mirror, canopy, the stuffed bunny, and...the man."
She shudders, and instinctively, I reach over and grab her hand. Realizing what I’ve done, I try to pull away again, but she holds on to me. I’m stunned at my body’s reaction to this simple contact. I meant to comforther, but when she doesn’t let go, it has the same effect on me. An instant calm settles over my mind, and everything else vanishes. It’s just the two of us.
"Let’s focus on the first three. Can you remember anything else? Like what color were the walls or the bedding? Where was the bunny?" I ask her.
She takes several more breaths, and then she’s quiet for what feels like an eternity. I can see her eyes move underneath her eyelids.
"The white mirror has an old look to it. It has these ornate carvings. It stands out against the wall." She pauses. "The walls are pale lavender. I remember thinking that I liked the color."
I sweep her room. She still does. She’s always liked everything purple. Pillows, throw blankets, accents in purple, lavender, heather, and periwinkle are everywhere. Yup, I know what periwinkle is—don’t judge. I have a mother who is obsessed with interior design when she isn’t knee-deep in a legal battle, so we were dragged to Home Depot and Lowe’s our entire childhood.
I lightly squeeze her hand. "You’re doing great. Keep going."
