Page 81 of Hope & Harmony

Through the floor-to-ceiling windows is the iconic skyline, lit up in all her glory. There are only so many places you can get a vantage point like this, and they are almost all way above my pay grade. Getting to see a sight like this is something special.

“And it gets better,” he says, smirking as he leads me through the hotel room that’s almost as big as my entire apartment and over to a door leading out to a balcony.

We push outside into the cool air of the late spring evening, each of us stepping up to the railing and leaning against it, just taking in the beautiful night and the view in front of us.

“This is amazing,” I say, shaking my head.

“It really is.”

After a few minutes, I turn and look at Scott, finding him already watching me. I know instinctively that we’re going to talk about that night, and I’m relieved. I have so many questions.

“Do you remember anything?” he asks, his voice gritty but gentle.

I shake my head. “Nothing. The whole day is a blur, and then I was in an induced coma for several weeks, so once I woke up, that was kind of a blur, too.”

“That must be hard.”

Shrugging, I turn my back on the city and cross my arms as I lean against the rail behind me. “Sometimes. For months afterward, I would lie awake and try to will myself to remember something. A sound or a smell, anything. But there was nothing.” I pause. “Except for music.”

When I look at Scott again, he’s looking at his hands where they’re dangling over the railing.

“My family tried to convince me I was hearing music from someone’s phone or on the overhead speakers, but that never felt right to me. It was so close, and I could hear the words and the voice.” I tilt my head to the side. “Your voice, though I didn’t know it was yours because I didn’t knowyou.”

Scott nods then turns to face me.

“Will you tell me what happened?”

He takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. “Shawn and I were walking to the station when two guys blew past us, almost knocking me over. When I looked down the alley they came from, I could see a pair of pink high heels on the ground next to a dumpster.”

“It was 80s night,” I tell him, though I only know because my friends told me once I woke up.

“Makes sense.” His face darkens slightly as he continues. “I assumed they were trash, but I wanted to double-check, just to be sure. When I approached the dumpster, I found you lying on the ground behind it.” Scott shakes his head. “Shawn called 911, but once I knew you were still alive, I picked you up and ran to the street. We flagged a cab and took you to Bellevue.”

My heart pangs at the picture of this man holding my bloodied and beaten body in the back of a cab.

“I waited for a long time, both of us did,” he continues. “Eventually, the doctor sent us home. They wouldn’t give us any information, but I came back a few days later at night and slipped one of the night nurses a twenty. She let me sit in your room for an hour because you were right next to the nurse’s station so she could watch me.”

At that, I smile. “Was that Taryn?”

Scott nods. “How’d you know?”

I shrug. “She just seemed like the soft-heart type who would let you in against the rules.”

“Well, I’m glad she did. I came back as many nights as I could. I didn’t want you to be alone.”

Iwasalone. I’d been robbed and had no ID on me. The only reason the hospital knew my first name was because of the necklace I was wearing with my name on it in silver script. The friends I’d gone out with were people I didn’t see often. None of my family lived in the city, and I normally led a very busy life, only calling occasionally. So, apart from Scott visiting, I was completely alone. I was Madison Doe until I woke up and could give them my information.

Of course, my family was mortified that I’d been in the hospital for several weeks and they hadn’t known. The next year when my sister started grad school at NYU, we got an apartment together. So now, I’m almostneveralone. I rarely go longer than a day without hearing from a family member. Sometimes I joke that they have me on a scheduled rotation for check-ins.

Knowing Scott was there, knowing he took the time to come back and make sure I was okay, day after day…warms something in my chest. Iwasn’talone after all.

“And the music?” I ask, still unsure about that part.

At that, Scott blushes slightly, looking back out to the city across the water. “I read something about music helping withbrain function, so I brought my guitar and sang to you a little bit.” He shrugs.

I let out a long breath, feeling like this information is giving me a kind of closure I didn’t know I needed, a kind of resolution to the trauma I went through. It’s wild how connected I feel to Scott and, if I’m reading him right, how connected he feels to me. Just the way he introduced me to his brother, the way he emphasized my name—clearly, they’ve talked about me plenty.

Though that leaves one more question.

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