Page 70 of Rise (Symbols of Love 1)

November 30, 2014

“Ah, brine and piss. Must be back in good old London.” This from Simon as we disembark at St. Pancras.

We slept like the dead, woke up with less than 90 minutes to catch our train back to London, and collapsed in our seats as soon as we reached them.

“Oh, please. You’ve missed it, and you know it.”

I reach in to my purse to turn my phone on. It has been off all weekend and I’m dreading the emails, voicemails, and text messages waiting for me. I know I have a ton of work to do for work tomorrow, and I owe Milly a call.

As Simon and I start to walk across the platform, the vibration from my phone causes the bag on my shoulder to shake.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake. I hate coming back to reality.” I snatch my phone from my bag with my free hand and glance at the screen.

My stomach drops.

I have 70 voicemails and over 100 text messages. All of them from my mother and sisters. My hands shake as I open the first five text messages from Milly.

Milly: Addie, call me back. I need to talk to you right away

Milly: What in the world? Is your phone off?

Milly: Addie, they know who you are.

Milly: Addie, have you seen the news?

Milly: OMG, Addie, why are you doing this? PLEASE CALL ME BACK!!!!!

“Hey, what’s wrong?” I’ve stopped walking to read the texts, and Simon is standing there looking at me with concern marring his face.

“What?” I ask dumbly, unable to process his question and the messages I’ve just read.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost. I can see your hands are trembling, and you just stopped walking. What are you reading?”

I don’t know why, but in a move I will soon come to regret I lie.

“Oh, sorry. It’s work. Something is wrong with the numbers in my report. I need to go into the office right now.”

“For real? How the hell did that happen? Did finance give you bad data?” Simon tries to read my phone screen over my shoulder. I drop my phone back in my purse and whirl to face him.

“I don’t know.” I try to school my expression. “Why don’t you grab a taxi home, and I’ll grab one to the office. I’ll call you later?”

“No, I can come with you. I have a feeling Matthew is behind this, and I don’t want you going in without me.”

“Simon, I don’t need you to come to the office to fight Matthew for me.” I know my tone is harsh, but I am panicking and trying to get out of here so I can read the rest of the text messages and listen to the voicemails to see what the fuck is going on.

“I am not going to fight him, Addie,” his response is clipped, and I know I’ve hurt his feelings, but I don’t have time to sort this out right now.

“I didn’t mean literally. Look, I should have been there yesterday, I’ve got to go. I’ll call you.” Without waiting for his response, I turn on my heel and run out of the station.

I jump into a black cab and give him my address. I pull my phone back out. I decide to not bother to read the text or listen to the voicemails, I just dial Milly’s number.

She answers before the first ring was complete.

“Addie! What the fuck?” She shouts into the phone. “Where have you been? The whole world is on fire and you just disappear?” Milly never, ever curses. I know something is terribly wrong.

“Milly, I was in Paris for the weekend. My phone was off. Your hysterics are not telling me anything. What happened?”

“Someone leaked your real name to the press. There was a breaking story on Friday that the daughter of Omar Hassan is living in London under the name Adelaide Dennis. They found the rest of us, too. Don’t go to your apartment, the press is camped out waiting for you.”

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