The next morning brought an end to our passionate night. When I opened my eyes Oren was gone, but I felt bright and at ease, which as the day progressed turned out to be a good thing.
I showered, then dressed in a lightweight black pinstriped dress that Jennifer bought me and I had been dying to wear.
I stood by the window to find out the temperature outside. It was a perfect summer day, warm with a little breeze. I could see flowers blooming in the garden across the pool, and above there were blue skies with fluffy clouds drifting by.
Every summer vacation when I was growing up, we had a road trip to Cleveland, Ohio where my grandparents lived. The words of the song we used to sing then drifted through my head as I applied a touch of eye shadow and lip blush.
Well, I'm gon' paint my picture
Paint myself in blue and red and black and gray
All of the beautiful colors are very, very meaningful...
I knew why that tune was coming back to me now. When I was eight, I stole my mother's makeup box and decided to apply every color that I liked. Each year she would show me the picture that she took back then and we would laugh about it for hours.
Mom would have reminded me this year too.
It's funny how, even after you've accepted the grief of losing someone you love, every once in a while something comes and plays "gotcha," and for a moment or two the scar tissue separates and the wound is fresh again.
Enough, I told myself, firmly closing my mind to that kind of thinking.
I started to worry about Oren's disappearance, but there was nothing I could do except wait. My ankle was ten times better after the hot shower and I managed to get around by myself.
I walked to the sitting area and found breakfast on the table. I wasn't there long enough to even have my first sip of coffee before my phone rang.
Jennifer called, and what she had to say was a real shocker. I listened carefully as Jennifer informed me that my aunt had been found, but she was in a coma.
"Who are you talking to?"
"Oren?" I turned around to face him, trembling with fear.
YOU ARE READING
I Can't Remember To Hate U
RomanceWhen Lorelei's mom suddenly dies at the hotel in Venice where she worked, Lorelei is left devastated and refusing to accept that it was merely an accident. Reports that the hotel might have disguised the death of her mother and eleven others as an a...
