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Her concussion had been bad but upon waking it proved to be under control. She was warned that she would have a splitting headache and if she tried to close read anything, it'd feel like she was on a boat. Henrietta was merely thankful to have the weekend to recuperate before Monday when she returned to the bank.
It was around four in the afternoon when she rolled over in her mass of pillows and white comforter. Her cell phone vibrated obnoxiously against a glass of water on her bedside table. She reached out blindly, grasping for it. Henrietta brought it to her ear, not removing her sleeping mask from her throbbing head.
"Yes?" She croaked, half awake.
"How are you?"
"Fine." Henrietta answered, unsure for a moment who it was on the other line.
"I had to call your mom to find out where you had been. You know this case at the firm has been keeping me out of the loop with you, honey."
Oh yes. I have a boyfriend, don't I?
"I'm sorry, Braxton." Henrietta replied, lifting her sleeping mask, "I was kind of in the hospital…concussed."
"Did you get the license plate of the motorcycle? You know you could get a settlement out of that easily."
Henrietta grimaced. She didn’t have the stomach for going into the gory details about Owen, "I don't think these would be the kind of people to have anything to give in a lawsuit, Brax."
"Did anyone get any description of the vehicle-"
"No…No, I don't think so."
"Did you press charges?"
Head throbbing, Henrietta considered briefly admitting the strange encounter with her ghost from the past. If anything just to get him to stop asking questions. But her better sense told her to wait to find a better time and way to tell the tale, "To be honest, I don't remember much past bleeding on the pavement."
“Of course, honey. I'm sorry." His voice lost its worried edge, "It sucks being this far from you when this kind of thing happens. I can't make it back this weekend either."
"I know, you told me Monday. I understand your internship is demanding."
"I'll be up as soon as I can, I promise." Muffled voices and laughter rumbled in the background, "I have to go, sweetheart. We have only a couple hours for dinner before we're back to the grind. I promise to call you soon though. And take that concussion seriously, don't go pushing yourself."
Henrietta smiled a little, "I won't. I love you."
"Love you too."
Henrietta set her phone back on her bedside table and glanced up at the framed photo on her bureau.
It was from her senior year at University where she had met Braxton when they were freshmen. It was from one of his themed fraternity parties, this one had something to do with cowboys. They were reclining in one of the bales of hay the fraternity had put their house's backyard. She was propped up between Braxton's knees. He was grinning, his chin rested on the crown of her skull with a red solo cup in his hand. His eyes were hidden by sunglasses, a lanyard resting around his thick neck. Her hair was a mess in the late summer heat, gathered over her shoulder. She remembered she had been happy that day.
After graduation, Braxton had been accepted to law school. Henrietta had not gotten into the Masters of Fine Arts Creative Writing program as she had hoped. Not that her scholarship would have supported any further education past her bachelor’s degree. Henrietta meant to apply again the next year but couldn't bear the thought of rejection a second time. She had to make money to help family anyway. Braxton was about to begin his third year and had won himself a coveted internship with a well-known firm in the city. Henrietta was a teller in a small branch of a local bank and still living with her mom.
Recently, speaking with Braxton had felt more like a chore. It was as though she were talking to a shadow of someone she used to be. She knew it would be different for them once their relationship wasn't long distance anymore, whenever that happened.
Henrietta jolted in surprise as her cell phone buzzed across her bedside table once more. She groaned when she saw it was Heather calling.
"Are you alive?" Her sorority sister squealed on the other line.
Henrietta winced, "Yes, barely."
"Henny! You could have died!"
"I know, I know." Henrietta sat up in her bed, resting her forehead on her palm and closing her eyes, "I'm OK though."
Heather took a deep breath, "I think I'm finally over Robert."
"Really?" Henrietta answered, trying not to roll her eyes, "I'm glad for you, Heather."
"I met someone else."
Oh yes, the rebound stage. Haven't seen this before, Heather McKnight.
"That's great, Heather. What's his name?"
"Well, I went out with Allie the other night and we met up with her boyfriend. He's been hanging out with this band and I met the lead guitarist. He's gorgeous! He's really sweet too. And he's not like those other musician types, you know? I mean, like he has goals!"
"Wonderful."
"And they are playing at that bar we went to for the Duke and UNC game last spring. Remember that one? Max and Riley's? I really want you to meet him. I think you'll like him."
"Oh yeah, I'm sure I will." Henrietta glanced at her clock wondering how long it would be until she could get off the phone with her serial dater friend and get back to sleep, "When are they playing?"
"Tomorrow."
"Oh well, I'm sorry Heather but-"
"It'll do you some good! You don't do anything anymore but work and come home to eat and watch lame shows on Netflix. Tell me I'm lying."
"You're not lying, Heather, but I just narrowly escaped becoming a victim of vehicular manslaughter."
"You said you were feeling better."
Henrietta gritted her teeth, knowing there was no way of getting around her old friend. Heather had been fun in college. Their relationship was rich with memorable days and enjoyable but not always memorable nights. She had been with her when Henrietta had first met Braxton.
However, Heather had not been able to transition very well from the partying habits of a college undergrad. She had a good job with an advertising company in town but she often complained to Henrietta about going into work hungover on Friday mornings. Henrietta had bid good riddance to all of that as soon as she had received her diploma. Sometimes, she wondered if she had ever genuinely enjoyed it even when she was caught in the middle of that lifestyle.
However, Heather was right. Henrietta's life had become pretty pathetic of late.
"Fine." Henrietta growled through gritted teeth.
"Awesome!" Heather nearly screeched, "I'll pick you up at eight tomorrow night. Wear something cute, he has some single friends."
"I have a boyfriend, Heather."
"A boyfriend who is so dragging his feet on popping the question and committing to you-"
"Ok, I'll see you at eight." Henrietta ignored her friend's comment and clicked off the phone. She fell back into her sheets, shutting her weary eyes.
He's just got to get through law school. Once Braxton graduates and gets a job at a firm in town, we will get married. Two more years, that's it. He promised.
Saturday morning dawned grey and misty. Her mother's reaction to the announcement that Henrietta was going out that night was not well met.
"Are you serious?" Mrs. Cordova eyed her over the edge of her magazine at the kitchen island, "I must have misheard because I thought you just said you were going out to a bar with your alcoholic friend two days after you got a concussion."
Henrietta put on her sunglasses, the winter sunlight stinging her dark eyes, "Heather is not an alcoholic, mama. And I'm not going to drink anything. I'll just go, meet this new guy of hers and leave. In and out, I promise."
"You're twenty five years old, I can't stop you." She lifted a strong brow, thin lips pursed, "But I expect you to act with maturity while you live under this roof."
"Ok, I will." Henrietta groaned, pushing open the screen door.
"Where are you going?"
"I need to fill my prescription."
"I can do that! You go lay down!"
"I want to, mom." Henrietta let the door bang shut behind her as she walked down to their family car parked on the street.
It probably wasn't wise for her to drive in her condition but the pharmacy was only down the block and she needed a change of scenery. While she was gingerly showering herself off that morning, Henrietta had recalled the dreamlike visit with Owen in her hospital room. The details were so fuzzy, she wondered if he had really said all she thought he had. Maybe she had imagined it.
Be watchful?
Henrietta shivered at the memory as she pulled into the parking lot of Walgreens. After picking up her medicine at the pharmacy counter, she wandered down the magazine aisle till reading the article titles on the covers made her dizzy. She wavered, taking a weak step back as the room spun. Henrietta bumped into another body, her sunglasses falling from her forehead and down onto the bridge of her nose.
"Oh man, I'm so sorry." She mumbled, turning around and looking up over the edge of her shades.
Her vision focused again to find a man in a clerical outfit. She realized it was the same young man who had recently taken over as priest of their family’s parish. He had been the one to give the memorial service for her father.
“Sorry, Father. I didn’t mean-“
He reached out and steadied her by the elbow, the crinkles around his hazel eyes deepening as he smiled, “No harm done. Forgive me, are you-“
“Henrietta Cordova,” she held out her hand with a nod, “My father’s memorial service was the other day.”
He gave her hand a firm shake, “Yes, the young woman who had the accident afterwards. How are you? Should you be driving?”
Henrietta chuckled lightly. She grappled with her arms filled with a new bottle of shampoo, her meds, and a couple bags of Reeses to satiate her mother, “I’m fine. It was just a minor concussion.”
The priest crossed his arms over his chest, the yellow fluorescence gleaming off his neatly combed jet hair. He couldn’t be more than thirty years old. Louise had whispered to her that he was too foxy to be sworn to celibacy. Henrietta knew it was wrong, but she couldn’t help agree.
“Still. Can I drive you home? Your eyes still look unfocused. I don’t want you to get into another incident. That’s what it was, right?” He continued. Henrietta blinked, the light making her gaze fuzzy. His face cleared in her vision as he leaned forward, inspecting her face. For a moment, his concerned frown turned to cool indifference. Jaw tightening, his lips twitched into a half smile that didn't meet his eyes, “Nobody has a vendetta against you? Your family?”
Henrietta paused, unsure of how to answer his strange question. She wet her lips with a light laugh, “Of course not.”
“No, of course not.” He shook his head, the smile becoming genuine and the moment passing, “Well, if your family needs anything, I’m living at the parish house.”
“Thank you, Father-“
“Oh no, please call me Michael,” he waved a hand and took a step back to a respectful distance. Henrietta felt more comfortable.
She glanced down the aisle and squinted at the figure on the other end. She almost scoffed as Owen Shepard approached them. Father Michael took a step away with a nod towards Owen. Henrietta couldn’t be sure but the look on Owen’s tanned face was almost territorial.
“Father,” he nodded, eyeing the priest.
“I’ll see your family at mass, Henrietta.” Father Michael avoided Owen’s eyes and skirted away down towards the soda and chip aisle.
Owen’s shoulders relaxed. Studying him, Henrietta realized he was wearing the same pair of jeans and forest green t-shirt from the previous day. Owen gave her his tentative smile, his long hair pulled back from his face. The second time she had run into him in one week after ten years. Things were getting creepy.
"Are you stalking me?" She snorted, only partially joking.
“Am I what?"
"Stalking." Henrietta pushed her glasses onto her head, perching a hand on her hip.
“Why would you think that?”
Henrietta scoffed, her face contorting in confusion. Her conversation with the priest had left her uneasy. She wondered if they missed something at the hospital, if she had hit her head harder than they thought. "No word for years and we run into each other twice in a matter of days? That doesn’t seem strange to you?"
Owen shrugged, leaning up against the magazine rack, “Only as strange as you allow yourself to believe it is."
“What the hell does that mean?”
“Who was that?”
Henrietta snorted, “Our family priest. Now if you’ll excuse me, I really need to get home-“
Before she could walk away, he reached out and snatched her fingers. Henrietta turned to scold him but was stopped cold by the look on his face. It was desperation. Not deranged desperation but something deeper. It was the look of someone who was desperately trying not to lose something they dearly wanted. It was a sentiment she had experienced many times in the past few years.
"Please," he paused with a sharp inhale, "I’m sorry about the other day. I was told that it may be difficult at first for you to understand. But I can’t stay away from you, not with everything coming into play.”
Henrietta swallowed, blinking to break the spell that had fallen over them in the magazine aisle at Walgreens. She shook head, taking her hand away.
"Please hear me out-" He begged.
"What are you really doing here, Owen? Why did you come back? It wasn’t for the memorial service or even to apologize to me, I think." She whispered, narrowing her gaze on him.
"Owen was never my real name." He answered, searching her face for a reaction, “Same in that Ricardo Cordova was never your father’s name. It was the one he took.”
Henrietta’s heart skipped a beat, “What the hell are you saying?”
His face fell, "You have no memory of the time before you came to live in this place, do you?"
"I have always lived here." Henrietta whispered, ignoring the passing look of interest from a fellow customer, “Except for when I was at University-“
"I mean before you came to this world."
"There is only one world." As he shook his head, Henrietta shivered, "Look, Owen or whoever you are, all I’m saying is that if I ever see you near me or my family again, I’m going to have to call the police. And this time, I won’t keep my mother from pressing charges."
His softly sloped chin stiffened, "I made a vow to myself that if you could not recall who I was that I would leave you to your new life."
He closed the distance between them. Laying a muscled hand at her waist, Henrietta could not argue as he gently tipped her chin back. She couldn't breathe. It had been so long since she had been held so tenderly. She wondered if she had ever been held as Owen did just then.
"I wish you all blessings," He whispered, resting his forehead against her own.
He pressed his lips to her hair. Henrietta opened her eyes to see him passing through the door and disappearing into the dusty rain fall out in the parking lot.
"Get a room." An old lady grumbled as she pushed past Henrietta with her walker.
"Yes mam." Henrietta replied absently as she stared after him in wonder.
His name was never Owen. The world spun with the strangeness of her encounter. Stumbling back a couple steps, her head pounding, Henrietta begrudging admitted to herself that she should have listened to her mother and stayed home.
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