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At any rate, my presence has caused them some pain, and so it’s a good thing I’m leaving.
“I have lots of things to thank you for, though,” I tell Abby as I send her a smile over my shoulder. “For taking me under your roof. For feeding me such delicious food. For tending to my wounds. For saving my life and helping me get back on my feet. I doubt I can ever repay you and Mitch for your kindness.”
For a moment, she doesn’t answer. Tears brim in her eyes. Ah. Just as I thought, she’s going to cry.
“Don’t go, Antonio!” Abby pleads as she wraps her arms around me. “You don’t have to go. You can stay here until all your memories return or until you find out who you are. Or you can just forget them all and start over. I know Mitch and I aren’t your family, but we’ll take care of you and give you a home and…”
“Abby,” Mitch cuts her off from the doorway. “We already talked about this. Antonio can’t stay.”
“Why not?” She takes her arms off me and faces her husband. “It’s not like he has somewhere to go or anyone else to turn to. And you need…”
“Abby,” Mitch says her name in a more serious tone this time.
She looks like she wants to say more but she just purses her lips and dries her tears. Then she gives me another hug.
“Take care, Antonio.”
Before I can reply, she lets go and leaves the room, walking past her husband without so much as glancing at him. Mitch doesn’t flinch.
“Are you ready to go?” he asks me.
I nod. I might as well leave before I cause more trouble.
“Sure.”
~
The ride from the Woods Clinic to the Summerset bus stop in Mitch’s silver four-door pickup truck turns out to be a quiet one except for the country music drifting from the speakers.
I can’t tell what Mitch is thinking. Is he still upset with Abby? Is he mad at me for making her upset? Does he wish I had never showed up, that he had never taken me in?
I don’t blame him. I did disrupt their lives. And not just theirs. While I was staying at their house, I noticed townspeople dropping by almost every day, some to have someone treated, others just to chat. Based on what I heard from them, the whole town knew I was there – and not everyone liked it. Why would they? I’m an outsider, a stranger, and the people here have probably known each other for years. They don’t know who I am. I don’t even know who I am. I’m an unknown variable inserted into a setup that’s been working smoothly, a new cog thrown into the gears, unfamiliar and completely unnecessary, so of course they want me gone before I cause any more trouble.
And I am going. I’ll hop on the next bus and leave. It’s the right thing to do. I don’t belong here.
Still, there’s a part of me that’s begun to wonder if I can stay in this town, if I can make a place for myself here, start over like Abby said.
Abby. I can still hear her voice in my head and feel her sadness in my chest.
Maybe it’s because of her plea that I’m having second thoughts. Or maybe it’s because even though I’ve been trying to deny it, I’m actually afraid of leaving this town that’s been my bubble and facing the danger and uncertainty waiting for me out there.
What if I never find out who I am? What am I going to do? What if the people who tried to kill me before try again – and succeed this time, vulnerable as I am? Will I die never knowing who I am, without ever remembering my past and without hope of any future, without ever having lived?
My hands clench into fists on my lap. Is my life worth nothing?
My turbulent thoughts come to a halt as a chorus of distant screams reaches my ears, followed by a loud crash. Mitch stops the truck at once. His fingers grip the wheel as his gaze goes past the window towards the woods.
“What was that?” I ask him curiously because I feel like he has a good idea.
He turns the truck around. “That was near the river. At the Jensens’, most likely. They might need my help.”
Then he stops the truck, glances at his watch and looks at me.
“We’re almost at the bus stop. If you get off and start walking, you should still be able to get on the next bus. Your choice.”
I don’t even think. “I’m coming with you.”
“Okay.”
Mitch steps on the gas. Clouds of dust erupt from under the tires.
I grip the seatbelt stretched across my chest and hold my breath. My thoughts race against the truck.
