The Aperture

Chapter 13

That Was Then—This Is Now

It was almost 2:00 in the morning. Alyndia stared at the television, the remote control clutched in her hand, just as she’d been doing since dinner. On the coffee table before her was a bottle of olives, a bag of potato chips, peaches, bananas, and a veritable cornucopia of other snacks she raided from the refrigerator and kitchen cabinets. MacGregor snored on and off on the couch beside her while she gorged herself on the snacks and the television. She’d hardly left the couch that evening except for toilet breaks and to raid the kitchen for more snacks.

Another program began and ended. It was a scarcely comprehensible episode of a show called The Twilight Zone. This one was about an old man on the street who sold people exact items they needed, whether they knew they needed them or not. As she watched the plot unfold, she wondered if the story was based on fact or fiction.

After The Twilight Zone ended, she surfed the channels for a while, settling on an infomercial about a fancy food processor with attachments. She watched the beautiful, smiling man and woman tell her about the processor. “It works like magic,” they said. “It turns any fruit or vegetable into a delicious, nutritional drink.” She watched them demonstrate the device with fascination. She wondered if perhaps Gerald had told her wrong and magic really was prevalent in this world. The Kreeco Magi-Matic food processor (with a parrot as its logo) was proof of this. MacGregor woke up and stared at the screen for a while before speaking. He looked at his watch.

“Jesus, Connie. It’s almost three in the morning.”

“This device is amazing!” she said, referring to the food processor being demonstrated on the television.

“We already have one like that. That thing is a pain in the ass to clean. That’s why we never use it.”

She did not hear him. Her attention was fixed on the blue, glowing screen. The smiling man was now putting a stalk of celery in the device. She anticipated with excitement what the machine would do with it.

MacGregor studied her. “You never used to like to watch television. You used to hate it. Now you’re binging on it. What gives?”

“It is so interesting. I can learn a lot from it,” she said, plucking an olive from the jar on the table.

“I was hoping we could have gone out this weekend and done something interesting."

“Why should we go out if we have a television?”

He sighed. “Whatever, Connie. I’m done arguing with you.”

MacGregor stared at the screen for a bit, then he groggily rose to his feet. He stretched. “You’d better get to bed. Don’t forget you have to meet your sister for breakfast, not to mention we have Layton at two.”

Alyndia shifted her attention away from the television at the mention of his name. Yes. If she were going to meet with him, then she’d best get some sleep. She wanted to look nice and rested for him when he saw her in her new form.

“Yes, you’re right,” she said.

She looked down at the remote control in her hands. Though she learned how to change the channel and volume, she did not know which button to press to halt the spell that made the television work.

“How do you halt the television?” she asked MacGregor.

“Like this.”

He reached down and pressed a button on the remote. Instantly, the smiling man and woman with their Magi-Matic in the television vanished to a black screen and silence.

Connie stared at the remote in her hands. She wondered if some sort of Air enchantment allowed the remote to control the television, as no apparent physical connection existed between the two besides air. The device didn’t have the feel of enchantment, yet it worked the same. She gently set the remote down on the coffee table with the intent to study it in more detail later.

MacGregor shut off the light, and she followed him into the bedroom. She sat on the bed, already dressed in her pajamas. MacGregor began removing his belt and began to unbutton his shirt. The sight of him doing this concerned her, particularly since there was only one bed in the room.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“I’m getting undressed. What does it look like I’m doing?” he asked, as if the answer were obvious to her, which it wasn’t.

“You’re not sleeping on the couch tonight?”

“My neck is killing me from sleeping on it the last few nights. I just thought I’d sleep in my own bed tonight since I got to go to work in the morning.”

She frowned. “Why don’t you sleep on the couch just one more night?”

“What’s your problem?”

Alyndia watched him remove his shirt. He was a muscular man. Something in the deep recesses of her mind made her admire this physical trait in him. She watched him kick the trousers off his feet to reveal hairy legs and a baggy pair of boxer underwear with a gold-heart pattern on them. He folded the pants once, then draped them over the back of a chair sitting by the closet. Then he looked over at her.

“Are you going to wear those pajamas to bed?” he asked. When she didn’t respond, he shrugged, sat on the bed, and proceeded to remove his socks.

Although Connie had shared a bed with MacGregor thousands of times, Alyndia herself did not feel comfortable at all with this kind of sleeping arrangement. It was one of Connie’s habits that had not rubbed off on her. Alyndia also knew that she would not be able to sleep at all as long as he lay in such close proximity to her where she could feel his body heat, hear him breathing, and smell his scent.

MacGregor slipped between the sheets of the bed. He arranged the pillows for maximum comfort and lay on his back, his palms behind his head. “Come on. Lie down next to me. I won’t bite you.”

“I’m not sleeping in the same bed with you.”

A confused, hurt look crossed MacGregor’s face. “What’s wrong? Are you angry again with me about something?”

“No, it’s just that—it’s just that I’ve been through a lot in the last few days, and I feel the need to sleep alone tonight.”

“I think you’re angry with me.”

“I said I wasn’t. Why don’t you believe me?”

“It’s because ever since you woke up from the coma, you’re always pissed with me about something.”

“Don’t make up bedtime stories.”

“It’s true. And it doesn’t take much to set you off. All I have to do is touch you or say something you don’t like, and you get all worked up.”

“If it makes you feel any better, you’ve done nothing to incite my anger this time. I just want to sleep alone.”

He shook his head. “You know, Connie, after two days of living with you, I can say for certain you’re a completely different person.”

“Do you have to bring that up again right now? It’s three in the morning.”

“Nope, you’re not the same person at all,” he continued, ignoring her. “He really screwed you up, didn’t he?”

“Who?”

“Layton. Just wait until I get my hands on that bastard. I’m going to kill him for ruining you and destroying my happiness.”

Hearing him stay that infuriated Alyndia. She could hardly contain the anger. She turned around so that she could face him squarely.

“What is it?” he asked blithely.

In a deft, lightning quick moment, she slapped him hard across the face.

“Ow!” he said, putting his hand to his face. “What the—?” He looked at his fingers to see whether it was bleeding. “What the hell did you do that for?”

“Don’t even think about laying on him—ever. Do you hear me? I’m telling you. If you harm him in any way, I swear, I’ll—”

“See? There you go again,” he said, nursing his nose. “All I had to do was bring up Layton and you did that.”

“You disgust me,” she said, realizing he’d probably provoked her on purpose. “I going to sleep on the couch. I wish you a restful sleep.”

She was just about to rise when he grabbed her by the arm, shoved her down on the bed, and planted a kiss on her lips so hard it hurt. Immediately, she slammed her fist into his side. He let out a grunt and released her. She jumped back away from the bed and stared back at him in rage, her mouth smarting from the kiss. She sorely wished at that moment she had access to her spells to teach him a lesson of respect.

“Dammit, Connie,” he said, nursing his ribcage where she’d struck him. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“I should ask you the same.”

“I just wanted a little kiss.”

“You call that a kiss? I’ll knock your teeth out if you ever do that to me again,” she said, glaring at him, her voice dripping with venom. She was glad for Connie’s innate ability to convincingly project anger. That line would not have sounded half as convincing with her former, softer voice.

“I should have listened to that doctor Kasabian and left you at the hospital. Let him check you out.”

“It’s too late for that,” she retorted. “You’re just going to have to learn to respect me instead.”

Alyndia stood by the bed, waiting to see what MacGregor might do next, but he just lay there, saying nothing. Suddenly, she felt sleepy. Yawning, she grabbed a pillow from Connie’s side of the bed, and sauntered back into the living room.

She dropped the pillow at one end of the couch and looked back toward the room. No movement from there. Good. She then lay down, and fixated her eyes on the ceiling, waiting in case he followed her. A few minutes later, he turned out the light in the bedroom. All was dark now except for a dim, blue light shining into the apartment from outside the sliding glass door to the balcony. She looked up toward the window and saw a full moon shining in the night sky. Its appearance startled her. This moon was much larger than the twin moons, Sarn and Khybn, of her world. And unlike the Cerinyan moons, which were bluish-green, this one was bluish-white, and it radiated much more light.

Though she felt weary, she got to her feet and walked over to the sliding glass door. Now the light of the city beckoned to her too. She flipped the latch on the door and stepped out onto the balcony. The chilly night air attacked her skin. She disregarded the bracing air for a moment and stepped forward, the rail at the edge of the balcony. She peered down. The street stretched below her feet. From her vantage point, the few people out at that time of night appeared to her as mere ants. The buildings loomed around her like great rectangular towers peppered with random spots of light. This city was nothing like Roggentine, but it had its own beauty. “So this is the city built with machines,” she whispered to herself as she took in the cold, night air.

The next morning, MacGregor didn’t say much to his partner as they got ready for the day ahead. Alyndia almost expected that he’d apologize to her for his actions of the evening. To her dismay, he did not. She considered this an insult, and so she responded in kind by withholding any meaningful conversation from him.

He prepared for them a spartan breakfast of toast and a glass of orange juice. After she had finished her breakfast, she found she was still hungry. She finished off the bag of chips, the bottle of olives, and the remainder of a box of cupcakes left on the cocktail table from the night before. She loved the food of this world. It seemed designed for pleasing the palate.

Most enjoyable, she found, was the shower. It was a pleasure to use and much nicer than the baths she was used to. With just the turn of a knob, she found she was able to vary the temperature of the rain that fell from the pipe to any temperature she felt comfortable on her skin. She wondered where the hot water came from. She thought perhaps a Fire enchantment had been done somewhere. She was glad she didn’t have to use fire wands to heat up her water for a change.

Now it was almost nine. MacGregor drove her across town to the Madden Hotel, where her sister Joy was staying. He dropped her off at the main entrance on the street. He said he’d head down to headquarters and that he’d be back in a few hours to pick her up. He handed her his cell phone and told her to call if she would be longer.

Alyndia stepped out of the car into the brisk winter air, then stood on the curb as she watched MacGregor drive off. After he was out of sight, she spun around while looking upwards to get a view of the rectangular buildings that towered above her. The sight of them was breathtaking. All things were different in this world. The air smelled different, the sky looked different, and the attire of everyone around her was nothing like she was used to seeing on Cerinya. Also, now it was late winter. In her home, wherever it was, it was the brink of fall when the leaves would be turning black and blue. She reached down to the curb and picked up a handful of snow. Though it was cold as the snow was in her world, it felt odd in her hands, crunchy. She brought her attention back to the entrance of the hotel. She was supposed to meet Joy in the lobby. Unfortunately, in sorting through Connie’s possessions at the apartment early that morning, she found a glossy image on paper—a photograph of Connie and an older man. Alyndia somehow knew this man was Connie’s father. In the picture, Connie was much younger. She sat on a low chair with her feet stretched before her in a sandy place, probably a seashore. Crouched behind her was her father, his face next to hers, his hands where her shoulders met her arms. Both of them were smiling or laughing at something off. Alyndia wondered why Connie kept this picture and no others.

Alyndia followed a group of people through a revolving door into the lobby of the hotel. The hotel was elegantly decorated with a red carpet and dark wood furniture. She scanned the lobby for someone who would resonate with the information in her memory. There was no one. She was about to walk up the concierge when a voice called her name from behind.

“Connie?” Alyndia turned to see a woman standing directly behind her. The woman seemed slightly younger than she was. Her hair was black instead of red, and it hung down below her shoulders. And she wore lenses on her face—glasses they were called—and gold rings in her ears. She looked overtired from lack of sleep. But there was no mistaking the resemblance. This was Connie’s sister, Joy.

“Joy?” Alyndia asked.

The two women stood there in the crowded lobby. Alyndia wondered how she should conduct their meeting. Should they embrace? Should they shake hands like the men on television? Without a script to follow, the long-estranged stood there staring at each other. Alyndia thought she saw a yearning of unknown origin in Joy’s eyes, until Joy was bumped by a man carrying his suitcases through the lobby. The man apologized.

“You wanted to see me?”

“I heard there was an accident,” Joy said quietly, demurely. She had a soft voice. “They said you were in a coma.”

Alyndia could not help but smile over this statement. “Yes, there was an accident, and I was in a coma, but I’m better now, even better than I was before.”

Joy gave her a long, lingering look. Alyndia saw real sympathy in her eyes. This woman truly loves Connie, she thought. Suddenly, Joy moved aside to avoid being struck by a woman pulling her suitcase along by a leather strap. The lobby was busy that day.

“Shall we go someplace where we can talk?” Alyndia asked.

Joy led Alyndia into a small restaurant connected to the lobby. In short order, they were seated at one of the round, white tablecloth-covered tables that peppered the room. The waiter, a thin, balding man with a thin, black mustache, gave them menus. The waiter offered them drinks. Joy declined. Alyndia did the same. The waiter left. Joy folded open the menu and sat it on the table before her. She quickly glanced over its contents, but she seemed too distracted to read it. She suddenly closed the menu and stared at Connie.

“You look different, Connie,” she said.

“Do I look good?”

Joy gave her a slight nod.

“How many years has it been?”

“Almost fifteen, sixteen, maybe.”

“Then how should I look?”

Joy shook her head. She gazed out the window as people dressed in dark overcoats carrying their briefcases and purses walked by. Alyndia got the feeling there was a great deal of turmoil churning within Connie. The light shining off the street outside lit her face in a most unflattering way. It seemed to Alyndia that Joy had been crying recently. She wondered if a person in this world cried enough that their tears would turn to blood as they did in her world.

Joy took a deep breath. “I suppose they told you about mom.”

“She is at the—hospital?” Alyndia wanted to say temple, but that word did not seem appropriate. “How bad is she?”

At that question, a large tear ran down Joy’s face. She made no effort to stop it. “She’s very bad, Connie. The doctors say—” she paused. Another tear ran down her face. “The doctors say she hasn’t got long to live. Maybe another week or two.” She picked up the neatly folded white napkin on the table before her and delicately dabbed the tears from her eyes. “She’s been asking for you, but we didn’t know where to find you. Then we got this call from somebody at the CIA. They didn’t give us any details but said you were hurt and were on life support. That’s how we found you. I hope you’re not angry with us.”

Alyndia shook her head. “I’m not angry. In fact, I’m glad you called me.”

Joy stopped dabbing her eyes. She searched Alyndia’s in to order to ascertain whether she was being sincere. “You are?”

Alyndia shook her head. “Yes. Absolutely.”

“You’re angry at us anymore?”

“Not at all. Whatever happened between us is all in the past, and I have fully forgiven you.” she said.

In reality, Alyndia had no idea what could have caused Connie to become wayward in such a dramatic way that she had broken off all contact with her family for all those years. Something in the recesses of her mind told her that this fracture in the relationship happened some months after the death of Connie’s father, and some residual emotional nudge told her these feelings were yet undiminished after all those years. Connie held an awful grudge. But now that Connie’s spirit was departed from this world and unlikely to return, Alyndia saw no harm in fixing what had come undone years ago, if only for the sake of a dying mother in her final days.

Now Joy began to weep openly into the cloth napkin she held, staining it with her deep purple lipstick and black mascara. Alyndia reached across the table and gently took her hand and wrist. Joy stared up at Connie through her tears, seemingly astonished that her sister Connie had done this. At that moment, with impeccably bad timing, the waiter returned to the table.

“Are you ladies ready to order?”

At first, Joy shook her head, then she changed her mind and ordered a glass of wine, probably to calm her spirit. Alyndia was going to do likewise, then she remembered the vomiting and achy feeling she’d had the day after she’d imbibed the Chardonnay. She decided to order something different on the offhand chance the wine had been the cause. She quickly glanced at the menu. She saw the word “Milk.” She wondered if this were the same sweet liquid taken from the teats of livestock animals in her world. She guessed that it might be. She drank it often in her world.

“I would like a glass of milk,” Alyndia told the waiter.

“Yes, one milk. Would you like a large or small glass?”

“A large, definitely,” she replied.

“All right. That’s one Burgundy and a glass of milk.”

Joy nodded. The waiter collected their menus and left the table. Alyndia wondered why he had changed his attitude so suddenly. When her attention returned to the table, Joy was gazing at her with a puzzled expression. Alyndia wondered what she had done that provoked this response from her.

“Is the milk good at this establishment?” Alyndia asked.

Joy shrugged. “I imagine it is.”

Well, that wasn’t it, Alyndia thought.

“I’m married now,” Joy said, changing the subject. She held out her left hand to show off her wedding ring, a simple gold band. “His name is James. He teaches history at the University of Wisconsin. My name is now Joy West.”

Joy went on about her marriage while Alyndia listened intently. At Alyndia’s urging, Joy also told her about their brothers and sisters. Alyndia listened carefully, absorbing every tidbit of knowledge of Connie’s family, especially facts about her newly biological brother and sister, Felicity and James. To her chagrin, Joy made no mention of their father, Albert Bain, the name that came to her from a vestige of Connie’s memory imprinted in her brain. Alyndia wondered why Joy skirted the subject of their father. She thought perhaps Joy assumed this was still a touchy subject with Connie, and so she didn’t venture to say anything lest she conjure Connie’s formerly undiminished ire.

The waiter brought them their beverages along with a black leather folder Alyndia assumed contained the bill. A moment of silence fell between the two women as they drank some of their beverages. Joy sipped from her glass of wine, but Alyndia was thirsty. In one turn of the tall glass, she drank nearly half the white milk. To her surprise, the milk did not taste the same in this world as it did in hers. But it was refreshing just the same. She decided she liked it. As she dabbed her lips with the napkin, she saw Joy was giving her that puzzled expression again.

“You have changed, Connie,” Joy said.

“In what ways.”

Joy shook her head. “So many.”

“Tell me how I’ve changed.”

“Well, for example. Like just right now. You drank that glass of milk the way you used to drink wine.”

“There’s nothing wrong with drinking a glass of milk once in a while, is there?”

“Oh, not at all. I mean for most people, but as I remember, you weren’t able to drink milk.”

Alyndia swallowed hard. “I wasn’t. Why?”

“Don’t you remember? You were lactose intolerant.”

“I was?” she stated, not knowing exactly what that meant.

Joy smiled shyly at her. This was the first time Alyndia had seen her smile. “Milk has never agreed with you. It made you awfully gassy. Don’t you remember that? Felicity and I couldn’t sleep in the same room with you that night if you had a glass of milk at dinner time.”

Alyndia stared forlornly at the half-empty glass of milk on the table. She was done for. She cursed herself under her breath. Joy touched her arm.

“Connie?”

Now she looked up to see Joy gazing deep into her face.

“You’ve changed in other ways too,” she said. “When I made the decision to see you, I was filled with dread. I felt for certain that if you saw me, you would hate me just as you’ve hated me, Mom, and the others. But because of how sick Mom is, I had to see you. Now I see you’ve changed. Do you realize how much this means to me?”

Alyndia shook her head.

Joy continued, her free hand clutching the napkin tightly. She shook her head as if unable to find the most appropriate words. “While we were going to school, I always looked up to you. You were so good at everything you did—and you didn’t even have to try. I was never the same as you. You were on the honor roll. I retook the same algebra class for three years. You were a cheerleader. I played in the band. You always had the best-looking guys. I went myself to my senior prom because I couldn’t find a date. You’re so smart, and you’re always so strong, and I felt so bad being around you, but I loved you just the same. And I always looked up to you.” Joy’s eyes well up with tears. “When I came here, I thought you would just take this time to tell me how much you despise me and our family. Now I feel like I have my big sister back again.”

Alyndia got up and walked over to Joy’s side of the table. The two embraced in tears. The healing in Connie’s family had begun.

The two women spoke for the next hour or so until MacGregor came to pick up Connie. By then the restaurant was filling up with patrons for the lunch hour, and the bony waiter stared at them menacingly in hope they would leave and free up the table for some higher-paying customers.

“So how did it go?” MacGregor asked as he entered traffic.

Alyndia smiled. “It went wonderful.”

“Wonderful?”

She looked at him. “Yes. Is there anything wrong with that?”

“No, it’s just that I—never mind.”

“We had a good sister-to-sister talk. I can’t wait to see my mother again.”

“You mean you’re actually going to visit her?”

Alyndia stared hard at MacGregor. “Don’t start with me again.”

“I didn’t say a word," MacGregor said, keeping his eyes on the smoking minivan in front of them.

“I had such a beautiful conversation with my sister this morning,” she said, dabbing her eyes. “She is so sweet. I never knew that having a sibling could be such a good experience.”

“Yeah?”

“Uh-huh. And you know what?”

“What?”

“I’m seriously starting to think that putting on the bracelet was the best thing that ever happened to me.”

They drove for a while without speaking. Not feeling the need to make conversation with MacGregor, she amused herself by staring out the windows of the car and trying to make sense of the dazzle of activity around them. While they were stopped at a particularly long traffic light, MacGregor turned on the car radio. Something like music filled the space inside the car. A man’s edgy, threatening voice sang vulgar lyrics to raucous-sounding background music: “Dirty deeds done dirt cheap!… Cyanide, TNT, Done dirt cheap!”

She pressed the same button on the radio that MacGregor had touched. The car went silent.

“What did you do that for? I thought you liked AC/DC.”

“I don’t like it now. I think it is vile.”

“But that used to be our song!”

“It’s not anymore.”

MacGregor let out a long sigh. Finally, the light turned green, and they headed forward through the intersection. By following MacGregor’s driving, Alyndia figured out the connections between the traffic and the traffic lights: a green light meant go; a red light meant stop. and a yellow light meant hurry before the red light came. She smiled at herself at this revelation. She was learning fast. Gerald would be impressed with her.

“Are you hungry?” MacGregor asked. “We still have some time before we go down to the station.”

Alyndia wasn’t sure how to answer. Her belly was already starting to feel peculiar from the milk she drank a few hours before. Still, she decided she could eat. Then she spotted a French fry on the floor of MacGregor’s car from their meal yesterday. “McDonald’s,” she said. “I would like to go to McDonald’s.”

“You want to go to MacDonald’s again?”

Alyndia looked over a MacGregor. “I suppose there is something wrong with that too,” she said, her voice leaden with sarcasm.

“No, no. Not at all. I was just thinking of—where the closest one was.”

Alyndia stared at MacGregor. She didn’t need to look into his eyes to surmise that he was lying to her. She sighed. She couldn’t wait to rid herself of this nitwit and see Gerald again.

“You know, Connie, I was thinking—”

“Whenever you say that, it makes me nervous, Will.”

“No—listen to me. I was thinking that maybe we ought to go over to the hospital to let them have another look at you. You know? Just let them ask you a few questions. What do you say to that?”

“Why? Because I want to eat at McDonald’s? Because I don’t like AC/DC?”

“That has nothing to do with it. I just think that perhaps we rushed in getting you out of the hospital. Whatever put you into that coma might happen again. Maybe that bracelet had nothing to do with it, and it was just by chance that it happened when you put it on.”

“I feel fine,” Alyndia replied, “and I can see through your deception. What is the real reason you want me to go?”

“Okay, you want me to come clean with you? All right—I’ll come clean with you.” MacGregor quickly turned the car over to the curb on the street they were driving on, stopping the car with the screech of rubber on cold asphalt. He turned off the engine. He unlatched his seatbelt and turned to her as best he could in the bucket seat. “It’s what I told you before. You haven’t been your normal self since you woke up from that coma. It’s like you’re a different person.”

“I told you I am making changes in my life.”

“So you say. But your changes…” He paused to find the right words. “Can I say the changes you’re making are unprecedented? And no one makes all the changes you have overnight like you have done. Jeeze, Connie, the more I talk with you, the more different you seem. I’m just worried that you might never be yourself again. I want the doctors to look you over to find out what is wrong.”

“There is nothing wrong with me,” she stated.

“No, something is wrong with you. You just don’t realize it yet. As for me, I’m starting to think it’s pretty damn serious. Shit. You’re probably so messed up right now you don’t even know how bad off you are.”

“You’re insulting me,” she said.

Alyndia felt the strongest urge to flee from this brutish man she disliked. She reached for the door handle to let herself out. When MacGregor saw what she was doing, he pressed a switch somewhere on his door. The locks in the car doors made a mechanical latching noise. She pulled on the door handle; the handle would not pull outward, and the door would not open. She did not know enough about the controls in the car to release the door lock. She was trapped.

“What do you want with me?” she asked.

“I want you to be your normal, old self again.”

“And what if I never go back to my old self?”

MacGregor put his hand on her arm. Her body stiffened at the feel of his touch.

“Look, Connie, just indulge me on this. Let me take you back to the hospital. You just have to talk to the doctors. Let them ask you a few questions and do any tests they want to do. Then, whatever they tell me goes. If they say you’re okay, I’ll keep my mouth shut, and I won’t bitch to you any more over how much you’ve changed.”

“What if they tell me I’m sick?”

“If you’re sick, then let them try to help you. Take whatever medications or treatments they prescribe. In any case, you always have the choice to refuse. And nobody there can make you stay if you don’t want to.”

“What will you do if I refuse treatment?”

“I hope you won’t do that.”

“But what if I do?” she pressed.

He sighed. “Then there won’t be any more I can do for you or for us. We’ll go our separate ways. I’ll move out; you can have the apartment to yourself. But first, for my own conscience, I want to make sure I did the right thing when I took you out of the hospital. What do you say, Connie? Let me take you. We can go right now. It’s only ten minutes from here.”

Alyndia thought this over. She got the feeling MacGregor was finally being square with her. And his suggestion seemed reasonable. Still, she was uncertain as to what tests the doctors wanted to do or what they would ask her. She strongly needed to speak to Gerald to get some direction on what she should do if she went back to the hospital and whether she should even go.

“Very well, I’ll go with you to the hospital,” she said, “but only on the condition that I meet with Gerald Layton first.

“I think we should go to the hospital first.”

“No. I will not meet with the doctors until I see him.” She looked at him in the eyes. “You did arrange the meeting with us today as we agreed, didn’t you?”

“Yes, but I can cancel it at any time.”

“I’ll just have to arrange the meeting myself, then.”

“I’ll block you. I’ll talk to Watson—tell him all that’s gone on with you since you woke up. I’ll tell him you’re not right in the head and a possible security risk.”

“You wouldn’t do that.”

“Yes, I would.”

“But you promised me—”

“—I didn’t promise you anything, so don’t even go there.”

She sighed. “Please, Will. Let me meet with Gerald. Let me talk to him alone, in private. And after you let me do this, I promise I’ll willingly go with you to the hospital if it makes you feel better. Do we have a deal?”

“I don’t know. Seems to me you’re not in the right frame of mind to interrogate him and be partial. You’ve also been obsession with him since you woke up from the coma. I can’t tell you what I think of him. If I even mention him, you fly off the handle, just like you did last night.”

“I reacted that way because I was in a bad mood.”

“All weekend?”

“Will, my interest in Gerald Layton is strictly professional.”

“Right, Connie.” He put his hands on the keys. “I’m just going to take you to the hospital.”

“Wait!” she said, putting her hand on his shoulder. “You were telling me the other night how you wanted our relationship to go back to the way it used to be. I hope you were being sincere when you told me that.”

He took his hand off the key as said this. “I was. And?”

“Well, along with making some changes in my life, I was thinking about us too.” She paused as she searched for the right words to say. “What I want to say is—I think you may be right, and the time has time to explore this possibility.”

“Yeah?”

She noticed from his expression that he was listening to her very carefully now and taking her quite seriously. Just then, her stomach made a loud gurgling sound, likely caused by the glass of milk she drank earlier. He did not appear to have even heard it. She continued speaking, now in a softer, more feminine tone.

“You’re right about what you said earlier. I’ve been obsessed with this Layton case, much more than I ought to be. I think that as soon as I can get this meeting with Gerald Layton out of the way, I can move on with my life and get back to things that are more important.”

MacGregor nodded slowly as she spoke. She could tell he was processing. She continued speaking to him, now slowly and sensuously, her voice almost a whisper.

“And then I was thinking—maybe after I see Professor Layton, you and I can go home early and—and explore rekindling that we love we used to have. And by morning—who knows? Maybe I’ll be yours again, just like it used to be.”

“But what about you going the hospital?”

“You still can take me to the hospital today if you want, or you can take me tomorrow or even the day after. The hospital’s not going anywhere. But I’d prefer to go home with you this afternoon after I meet with Layton.”

“You really mean that?”

“Yes, I do,” she said in a solemn tone. “And, you know, I’m just kind of worried that if I go to the hospital today and end up staying there for a few weeks, I might not feel the same about restarting our relationship by the time I leave. Plus, we won’t be able to spend any private time together while I’m there. It’s such a pity.”

“All right, Connie. You've got a deal,” he said finally, restarting the engine. “Let’s go interrogate Gerald Layton.”