Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 92930 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 465(@200wpm)___ 372(@250wpm)___ 310(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92930 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 465(@200wpm)___ 372(@250wpm)___ 310(@300wpm)
A middle-aged man watching a football game waved to me from another room.
I was starting to really feel like I was violating the residents’ privacy. I’d continue down the hall to the end. If I didn’t spot her, maybe I would just take my cleaning supplies downstairs and leave.
When I got to the second to last room on the right, I froze. All life around me seemed to still as a flash of fiery red caught my eye.
The first thing I noticed was her long mop of thick red curls. The woman who looked to be about my age was staring up at a wall clock while bouncing back and forth between the balls and heels of her feet. She hadn’t noticed me as I stood there observing her like she held the answers to all of life’s mysteries. She was the big mystery of my life.
Only the side of her face was somewhat visible. Her hair hid most of her profile.
A television in the corner was on low volume, but she focused all of her attention on the clock.
What was so fascinating?
The smell of cigarette smoke emanating from the room was suffocating and caused me to break out into an unintentional cough. She whipped her head to the left, and her eyes met mine in a penetrating stare.
We were face to face.
Ivy.
We finally meet.
She was beautiful, not in a glamorous way, but in the natural way that even years of abusing your body apparently couldn’t destroy. Her skin was fair, and she had small features. A few freckles were splattered across her cheeks. What surprised me the most was how tall she was, probably almost as tall as Jake.
Her incendiary stare continued to burn into me as I took a few steps forward into the room. She surprised me when she turned back toward the wall as if I wasn’t even there.
My body inched closer. “Ivy?”
Her attention was still fixed on the clock when she answered, “No.”
“You’re not Ivy?”
“No.”
I cleared my throat. “What’s so interesting about the clock?”
She turned her face toward me again and said nothing. A few seconds later, she said, “I’m trying to make it go back, reverse time.”
Blinking repeatedly, I tried to make sense of what she’d just said. It was heartbreaking in so many ways.
I walked behind her to a chest of drawers and lifted a frame that held a photo of Jake and Ivy. My husband had his arm around her in the snapshot. My hand began to quiver as Jake’s green eyes stared back at me from the frame. It was overwhelming to see him so young in a time before I ever knew him. It was also painful to see him looking so happy with someone else. Ivy had the same long, red hair back then, but her expression was full of life, a stark contrast to the current distant look on her face. Staring at the picture was like venturing into a time machine I never would have willingly boarded.
As I examined it mesmerized, Ivy turned around toward me. I felt like I needed to say something.
“Nice picture. Who is this?”
“That’s Sam.”
“Sam?”
“He’s a bad person.”
My heart felt like it dropped. Hearing her say that made me feel sorry for Jake. I couldn’t imagine what it must have been like to care for someone who didn’t even know who you were some of the time. You had to be a selfless person to deal with this situation.
I gently swiped the glass that covered the image of my husband’s face. A thick layer of dust coated my fingertip. Returning the frame back to the top of the bureau, I noticed a note and picked it up, recognizing right away that it was written in Jake’s handwriting.
Ivy’s Week Ahead:
Sunday: Relax
Monday: Science Museum Outing
Tuesday: Appointment with Dr. Reynolds
Wednesday: Gina Visit
Thursday: Toni is coming to trim your hair.
Friday: Happy Birthday, baby girl. 33!
Saturday: That nuisance Jake comes back.
Overcome with emotion, I swallowed the lump in my throat. While it was heartwarming to see how meticulously he looked out for her, seeing that he used the term baby girl had sparked unwanted jealousy.
In an eerie coincidence, as if he could sense my inner turmoil, a text from Jake came in.
Are you okay? Please talk to me. You have me worried sick.
I quickly typed a response.
I’m fine. But I need more time alone.
Ivy walked over to the nightstand and took out a box of cigarettes. She lit one, inhaled then startled me when she spoke. “What is your name?”
“Shari.” I coughed. “What’s yours?”
A cloud of smoke floated toward me as she exhaled. “Aria.”
“Aria?”
“What are you doing here, Shari?”
“I’m a volunteer.”
“Did Apollo send you?”
“Apollo?”
“The god of music.”
Jake had told me a little about Ivy’s delusions over the years. It was starting to dawn on me that I’d caught her in the middle of one.