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  “I want to see Sonya.”

  “We’re going to call her right now. Anything else?”

  “No, doctor, thank you. I’m just going to try and think back to what happened.”

  “Don’t push yourself. Your mind has undergone some drastic things in the last week. Try to clear your thoughts, I promise you’ll recover just fine.”

  Dr. Lincoln offered a kind smile before leaving Martin alone.

  Martin couldn’t keep his mind clear as the doctor instructed. That had always been a tall task, but now with a week’s worth of time unaccounted for, his mind worked overtime as he debated what to do when he got out of the hospital. One thought, however, tugged at him.

  How the hell am I going to explain this to Sonya?

  35

  Chapter 34

  Six days after Martin had been admitted to the hospital, Sonya’s phone rang and rang, echoing its piercing chime throughout the house. She had managed to crawl to the couch and place herself under a blanket for a drunken nap. Alcohol had seemed the only viable option to shake her mind of the disturbing news she had encountered after a week of being alone in her house, a constant knot of anxiety twisting in her gut at the thought of Martin lying comatose 20 miles away.

  She had called Larkwood Middle School the day after Martin’s accident to inform them she wouldn’t be coming in for a few days, and planned to visit Martin every day until he woke up.

  After making a quick breakfast of toast with jelly, she pulled her Yellow Pages telephone book from the hallway closet and flipped to the D section. Her finger ran up and down the pages until she found the listing for the Denver Post Office.

  She dialed the number on her rotary phone and slid the receiver between her head and shoulder as it rang back in her ear. She had never known what exactly Martin did at the post office and hoped whoever answered the phone would recognize his name.

  “Denver Post Office,” a man’s short voice crackled.

  “Yes, hello, I was hoping you might be able to help. I’m trying to get in touch with Martin Briar’s manager. Martin’s been in an accident and I wanted to let you know.”

  “Sorry, ma’am, we don’t have anyone employed by that name,” the voice responded, softer after learning of the accident.

  “I think that’s a mistake. Martin Briar is his name, if you didn’t hear me correctly.”

  She waited for a reaction from the other end, but nothing came except silence.

  “Hello?” she asked.

  “One second, ma’am, let me check our most recent directory. One moment.”

  The silence remained thick in her ear, the lone sound of flipping paper making its way to her phone. After a minute, the voice returned.

  “Yes, ma’am. As I suspected, we don’t have any employee by that name in our records.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “I’m not sure, either. I’ve worked here for 27 years now and I’ve never heard that name.”

  “And this is the Denver Post Office? The one downtown?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  A twisting feeling surfaced in her gut.

  “Okay, I’m sorry for taking your time today. Thank you for your help.” Sonya felt robotic as she spoke, and replaced the phone on its hook like a dazed zombie.

  Relax. There’s an explanation. There has to be. Maybe you misunderstood all along where he said he worked.

  She clenched her eyes shut and thought back to the rare time Martin actually discussed work. She wasn’t mistaken; he had definitely mentioned working downtown, sometimes going to the 16th Street Mall for his lunch break.

  Maybe he lied to you. Here’s another guy living a double life. He’s secretly rich, has a 30-year-old housewife in Littleton, but gets off to having an affair with a poor teacher from Larkwood.

  “No!” she barked to her empty kitchen, pounding fists down on the table, rattling the silverware. “This isn’t happening again!”

  Joke’s on you for thinking you could actually have a real relationship. Just admit it, Sonya, you’re gonna die alone. Men just can’t commit themselves to you. You turned a man gay, in case you forgot.

  Sonya returned her Yellow Pages to the closet, exchanging the massive book for the White Pages, the equally large book containing local residents’ phone numbers and addresses.

  Her hands refused to steady as she browsed for Briar, but her finger nearly stuck to his name when she found it.

  Briar, Martin and Lela. 7762 Cherry St. Larkwood, CO 80022.

  “Lela Briar?” Sonya said out loud, the name sounding oddly familiar. “Lela Briar.”

  She scratched her head angrily as she tried to place a face to the name.

  “You son of a bitch!”

  She knew the name Lela Briar from school. One of her student’s parents.

  “Isabelle Briar’s parents. Motherfucker!”

  Sonya jumped up from the table, blood boiling throughout her body.

  He lied to you. You said he looked familiar. Even told him you had a student with that last name. And he lied to your face. He’s not having an affair across town; he’s having it right here under your nose.

  “Fuck!” she screamed, slamming a fist down on the kitchen counter. Her body trembled as her fists clenched.

  You should have known better than to try and fall in love. These things have a way of working themselves out. You’re the mistress. How does that make you feel?

  Sonya’s legs surrendered and she slid slowly down to the kitchen floor, just below the sink.

  “I’m the other woman,” she said to herself, needing it to feel real.

  They had mistakenly called her Mrs. Briar at the hospital, and she had liked it. Now, the idea made her queasy.

  She didn’t want to act out irrationally to the news, rather wanting to flip the script on Martin and put him on the hot seat.

  Six days of living with this burden had pushed her to her mental limit when she finally dragged herself to the liquor cabinet. Though the constant nausea had subsided, her arms and hands still shook at the thought of being the other woman. She couldn’t help but think about Martin as she opened the cabinet and saw three bottles of his whiskey, grabbing one and drinking straight from the bottle.

  This led her to the couch where she had fallen into a dream where she was trapped in the bathroom from twenty years ago, the room steaming as two men giggled with each other in the shower. She screamed, but the giggling grew louder, the steam thicker and hotter. The sound of the running water was steady, and she tried to focus on that, wanting to break free of the nightmare.

  A dim ringing sound poured out of the showerhead, and it too grew louder with each passing second, eventually causing the bathroom to vanish as her eyes snapped open and she returned to her living room, head throbbing in protest.

  It took her a moment to process that the phone was ringing, but when she did, she jumped and tumbled across the room to take the phone off the cradle.

  “Hello?” she managed groggily.

  “Yes, hi, is this Sonya?” the familiar voice asked.

  “Yes. Who this is?”

  “Sonya, this is Dr. Lincoln down at Littleton Adventist Hospital. I have some good news.”

  Martin.

  Naps had a way of erasing memories, at least temporarily. She of course remembered her panic attack in the kitchen, the cursing of his name, but the sting of her rage seemed to have vanished for the moment.

  “Mr. Briar is awake.”

  “Oh, thank god.”

  “Yes, it’s surprisingly quick progress he’s making.”

  “So what can I do? Should I come down there?”

  “I wouldn’t worry quite yet. I’d say to relax the rest of the night and plan to come by in the morning. We’ll be running some tests to better gauge where he is mentally.”

  Sonya glanced at the clock ticking on the wall and found it was already a quarter past midnight. She would be up late unless she popped some sleeping pills. Her head still pounded
violently, her brain shrinking into itself from the excessive alcohol.

  “Thank you, Doctor. Is there anything I can bring Martin from home? Maybe something to help him in his recovery?”

  Maybe his wife? His daughter? His other life?

  “I think just yourself will be fine. This has been a mild coma, so I’d expect things to go smoothly from here on out.”

  “Great, I can plan on that. Thank you again, and I’ll see you in the morning.”

  “Have a great night.”

  The phone clicked off and Sonya replaced the receiver on its cradle, a smirk forming on her face.

  How did the police not find any relation back to his actual family? Sounds a bit lazy for detective work.

  Regardless of the blunders they may have made, Sonya knew what she wanted to do: trap Martin in his lie. She would play dumb, go along with everything, even bring Martin home and help him recover. She’d pay close attention to what he said, looking for any glaring loopholes that might slip his stealth.

  Then, when the time seemed right, she’d pounce the truth on him and revel in seeing the shock on his face once he realized he’d been caught.

  I’ll be the one with the last laugh this time.

  36

  Chapter 35

  Sonya hadn’t felt such a conflict of emotions since the tragic shower situation. She wanted to barge into Martin’s hospital room, throw things, curse him out, and make him feel like the snake that he was. But that voice in the back of her mind, the one that lived in the land of naivety, insisted there had to be an explanation. After all, they had gone a good two-month stretch where they spent every free moment together. Even for an affair, that seemed a bit too much to balance for a double life.

  She also wanted to confront him on the post office claiming to have never heard of him, but decided to wait until the hospital released him. It would be better to challenge him at home, not in a public place where any nurse or doctor could interrupt them mid-conversation.

  For now, she would only concern herself with his well-being. A lot depended on how the doctors said he was recovering, too. Dr. Lincoln had assured her it was a mild coma, one Martin should be able to recover completely from, but sometimes doctors were wrong. How could they know for sure until he woke up and they started running tests?

  Sonya pulled in to the hospital’s parking lot and shook her mind free of all the poisonous thoughts trying to form within.

  “You’re here for Martin. Everything else will take care of itself when the time’s right,” she said to herself.

  The parking lot had changed, this her first time visiting in the morning. Hundreds of cars filled the lot, the sun glaring off the sea of metal. She squeezed through the rows of vehicles on her way to the hospital’s main entrance where she took her first right to the elevators at the end of the hall and called for the third floor.

  Will he even remember me? A hard enough rattle to his brain could have completely wiped her from his memory. It wouldn’t be the most absurd thing to happen to her love life.

  “Just shut up and go in there,” she whispered to herself, walking down the third floor hallway on unsteady legs.

  She reached his closed door and took a deep breath before pushing it open.

  Martin lay where he had when she last visited, only this time his eyes were open and he turned his head to meet her stare. She hesitated, having an immediate thought that he didn’t recognize her, but he cracked a gentle smile that revealed he was okay.

  “Sonya,” he said, extending a hand out. She stepped into the room and glided to his bedside, throwing herself onto him as tears flowed. Her body convulsed beneath his arms and he started rubbing her back for a soothing effect that felt perfect.

  “I didn’t know where you were that night,” she said, muffled into his arms. “I was so scared.”

  “I’m gonna be okay,” he said, continuing to rub her back that had finally calmed down. “The doctors have had nothing but good things to say about my recovery.”

  “Where is Dr. Lincoln?” she asked, wanting to hear for herself.

  “I don’t know. He left after doing tests. There are some things I can’t remember. Especially the accident.”

  “How do you not remember the accident?” she asked, sure to keep her voice calm. She stood up, staring into his eyes as he scratched his head.

  Martin tossed his hands in the air. “I don’t know. The doctor described the accident to me, but none of it sounds familiar. I don’t even know what I was doing in Littleton. The whole day is like it’s deleted from my brain.”

  “You don’t know why you were in Littleton?” she snapped. Through all the shit she had going on in her mind, that was the one question she wanted to pin on him, and he came out and beat her to the punch, providing no information about his time in the rich suburb. She wanted to call him a liar, but refrained, keeping her emotions in check.

  And you thought there was an explanation. Your explanation was flushed down the coma toilet where all good explanations go.

  “How are you feeling?” she asked, changing the subject before she spilled all she knew. “Did nothing else get injured in the crash?”

  He shook his head. “My ribs are a little sore, but the doctor said there’s no damage, just some bruising.”

  “Did they say when you can go home?”

  “He said I can likely go home tonight, pending some tests.”

  As if he heard them talking, Dr. Lincoln entered the room with a rapid knock on the door.

  “Sonya,” he said. “Glad to see you here. Martin was asking for you right away when he woke.” The old doctor shuffled to Sonya’s side and read the monitor next to the bed. “How are you feeling, Mr. Briar?”

  “Much better. That food really helped.”

  “Perfect,” the doctor said, and turned to Sonya. “We gave him his first solid meal since he’s been in here. Eggs and toast – glad to see it’s sitting well.”

  “Can you fill me in, Dr. Lincoln?”

  “Of course. My apologies. Martin is doing better than we could have hoped. He’s going to struggle a lot with his short term memory for the next couple months, so it’s best for you to remain patient with him. He’s going to forget basic things like where he put his car keys, or maybe what drawer utensils go in your kitchen. Nothing major or life threatening, but those little lapses in memory can be frustrating for you as his partner.”

  She nodded, feeling sympathy for the first time since arriving.

  “Aside from that, there may be instances of long term memory showing some trouble, but nothing I suspect will last too long.”

  “And when will he be going home?” Sonya asked.

  “Today. While comas are serious by nature, there’s not really much else we can provide here at the hospital. As long as we feel a coma patient is coherent and can function normally, we’ll release them. The best treatment is rest and relaxation, and you can do that at home just fine. The final tests will be for Martin to walk around and use the restroom on his own. Once he shows he can do that, he’s free to go.”

  “And there’s no treatment of any kind I need to worry about at home?” Sonya asked.

  “Just keep the environment relaxed. I’d say for the first couple weeks, be there with Martin to assist with daily tasks. Do things like yardwork, cooking, and cleaning together. Really anything that distracts the mind is good for recovery.”

  This all sounded manageable for Sonya, but a realization also grew within like a slow burning flame: she would have to wait some time before confronting Martin with the truth. Not out of a courtesy for his recovering brain, but as a strategic move. Anything she threw his way in the coming weeks could be deflected by using his coma as an excuse. Oh, you don’t remember lying about your job at the post office? Or that you have a family across town? How convenient for you and your damaged mind.

  She’d have to wait the couple of months as instructed by the doctor until Martin showed signs of a full recovery. There would be
an eventual point in time where the coma seemed a distant memory, and that’s when she would unleash her arsenal of truth bombs. For now, and for the sake of her sanity, her main focus needed to be on Martin’s recovery so she could one day get the answers she desired. She’d have to carry on as normal, knowing a showdown would eventually come along with the next turning point of her life.

  Just go drop him at his wife’s house when you leave from here. Tell him you know everything and leave him to continue his life as it was before meeting you. Imagine the look on his face then.

  The idea sounded like the ultimate way to end a relationship, a last laugh kind of situation. But, she wanted the satisfaction of catching him, wanted the deer in headlights look as he watched his world crumble all around him.

  “Well, what do you say, Martin? Wanna go for a walk around the halls?” Sonya asked, patting him on the legs. “Let’s get you back home.”

  “We’ll need a nurse for that, for an official evaluation, but you are more than welcome to join Mr. Briar on his walk when he feels ready.”

  “I’m ready, doc. I just wanna go home.”

  Martin sat up in his bed and swung his legs over the edge. All of the tubes from the last week had been removed earlier, after he woke. His body was again independent after a week of machines feeding him and shitting for him. His feet hit the ground with a heavy thud as he swayed to catch his balance.

  “Easy, Mr. Briar,” Dr. Lincoln said, putting a hand on Martin’s shoulders. “Your body has been idle for a week, so you can’t just jump off the bed and make a run for the exit. Let me call that nurse for you and she’ll assist you through the halls.”

  Sonya had paid a visit to the library and researched treating comas. The nurses would have rotated his body over the week, changing the side he laid on to help prevent blood clots, among many other possible side effects. Standing so suddenly would have made the blood rush to his head, causing him to topple the way he had.

  So, you’re really gonna go through with this? Sonya’s inner voice chimed in.