Page 50 of That's Not My Name

I probably only have a couple more minutes to myself. It’ll be dark soon, and then it’ll be back to the cabin. Back to TV, and this quiet, homebound life. I’m itching for something to do. To move. To go. To live. To have a purpose beyond sitting on the couch wrapped in a scratchy blanket like a sickly Regency heiress.

I’m getting so tired of this fucking cabin.

I want to go for a run, or explore the coast, or hike a mountain. Anything to get the energy out, but I can’t because all I’m allowed to do is watch Netflix. Even convincing him to let me come out here while he chopped wood was an endeavor.

“It might rain later…”

“What about your dinner?”

“There are coyotes in this neck of the woods, you know.”

“You hate being outside, what’s gotten into you?”

He’s really shoving this homebody trait down my throat.

I’m supposed to be a shut-in, I get it.Marynever leaves the house, but if that’s true, why do I feel like I’d rather burn this cabin to the ground than sit on that couch and watch another season ofSchitt’s Creek? Nothing against the Roses, I’d die for Moira, but I’d also kill to get the hell out of here.

I pick at a tiny periwinkle flower printed on the sleeve of my ugly jacket and sigh. This cabin might be cute and peaceful, but it’s also drafty, isolating, and empty of the things I want. Even if I don’t remember what they are.

I focus on the water and take a deep breath, letting the cold settle into my lungs again.

I’m okay. Everything is fine.

The holes in my memory are unsettling, that’s all. Maybe it will get better once we move back to the old house. According to Wayne, McMinnville isn’t huge but it’s bigger than this tiny nowhere town. I need to give myself more time.

I eye the abandoned dinner bowl. If I don’t starve to death before then.

Maybe I can get an allergy test or Wayne can call my doctor? I’d like to eat in peace. My stomach growls, and I wrap my arms around my body.

There’s movement in my peripheral vision, and I jump. Wayne stands at the end of the swing, axe over his shoulder, and tips his head to the side. “Did I scare you?”

My Lizzo heart spasms inside of my chest, but I shake my head. “Nope.”

He smiles. “You look cold. Want to go inside and get some hot chocolate? I have a few packets of the instant stuff, and you can use the last of the milk if you’re interested?”

Goodbye, fresh air. Hello, Netflix. “Yeah, sure. That’s fine.”

But even as I agree, I wonder if I’m allergic to milk. Or marshmallows.

Is anyone allergic to marshmallows?

He stops the swing with the back of his arm and picks up my bowl. “You didn’t eat much.”

I pull my jacket closer, but the cold tightens my muscles until I shiver. “I wasn’t very hungry.”

Wayne looks at me like we both know I’m lying, but he doesn’t say anything. I reluctantly slide from the swing and walk across the yard.

Mary Boone wouldn’t care about being in the cabin all the time. Netflix is her best friend.

I don’t understand her at all.

A bubble of anxiety threatens to burst as I get closer to the front door, but I step inside the house. There’s no reason to have a panic attack about resting for a couple days. I’m not in danger. I’m watching TV for god’s sake.

I need to get a grip.

One day I’m going to look back on all this worry and feel like a drama queen. The memories will trickle back any day now, and all the puzzle pieces will fit together. I’ll feel like myself again.

I hang up my jacket, plop down on the sofa, and reach for the remote. Again.

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