Page 57 of One Foggy Christmas
When the call ends, I look down at my phone in my hands and the lit-up screen full of apps.
Instagram’s icon taunts me, and I click on it against my better judgment. Instead of scrolling through the feed, I go to my page. I see myself in the different pictures—arms around Nash, kissing him on the cheek, smiling as he hugs me—and although I know it’s me, it feels like I’m looking at someone else. Like I’m looking at a lie.
I return to the home page, my fingers hovering over the search button as I wrestle with morality. The devil gets the best of me, and I type Stetson’s Instagram handle in and watch as pictures of him fill my screen. He looks the same, maybe even better looking than my mind remembers. He doesn’t post often, but it’s enough to give me a complete picture of his life. He didn’t stray from his life plan. He graduated from law school. Became a partner at his dad’s law firm. Spends weekends boating on Skaneateles Lake. Does a lot of outdoor recreation. The only thing that didn’t end up how it was supposed to is me, and if Instagram can be trusted, Stetson is still single.
The hope that piece of information gives is scary.
NASH
With a gameof checkers in hand, I knock on Sadie’s hospital room door before I crack it open.
“You decent?”
“Uh…yeah!”
I push the door wider as she quickly sets her phone down on the tray table next to her like a hot potato.
“Can I come in?”
Her eyes dart to the device and then back to me. “Yeah, I just got off the phone with Autumn. She called me.”
There’s a guilty quality to her expression. Sadie’s poker face is non-existent, but I don’t press because Dr. Hatchet and Dr. Basu told me to be patient with her, with us, with all of it.
“You talked to Autumn?”
“Yeah, it was nice.”
“Autumn’s been so worried about you. Calling every day. Texting for updates. Demanding information. It’s so annoying.”I hope she catches the sarcasm in my voice. The old Sadie would’ve.
“What a terrible friend.”
I smile because she does. “The worst.” I take another step into the room, shaking the checkers box. I’m hoping her love of board games will get me some alone time with her. “I wanted to see if you were up for a game.”
Her eyes are hesitant, but she nods. “Sure.”
The wheels on the tray table screech as I roll it between us.
“So this is going to be strip checkers,” I say as I start setting up the game. “Every time you jump someone’s piece, the other person has to remove an article of clothing.”
I peek up at Sadie, and her expression is stiff and angry.
“I’m kidding.” I laugh, but she doesn’t join, causing me to clear my throat. “Jokes like that were funnier when you liked me.”
“Probably.” Her lips twitch, and I’ve never been so grateful for the hint of a smile in my life.
I glance down, continuing to place black and red pieces on the board. “The good news is, you can’t remember my winning strategy, but I remember yours.”
Sadie crosses her legs under her, sitting up to get serious about the game. “That doesn’t seem fair.”
“Your recent amnesia should be proof enough that life isn’t fair.”
“True.”
“Ladies first.” I gesture to the ready board.
She takes a second to think things through then moves one of the end pieces to the corner.
I smile.
