I’d like to say that prospect takes some of the pain away, but it doesn’t—so I won’t.

24

Two days later, I’m cooking chicken cutlets and brown rice for dinner as I talk to Maggie on the phone.

“So have you heard anything yet?” she asks. After telling her the whole story at lunch yesterday, she knows exactly what was in the draft of the novel I gave to Cristina and is just as anxious to hear her opinion as I am.

“Not yet. To be honest, I never thought she would actually wait until she finished to call me.”

“And just to double-check, the manuscript you gave her was what you wrote in the journal but typed out, right? Everything that happened with you and Ryan, college to present day?”

“Not present, present day. It ended with when I was leaving Italy.”

“When you thought you guys would be getting back together?”

I give the rice another stir and hit the spoon on the side of the small metal pot a touch harder than necessary. “Yes,” I answer.

“That stinks.”

“That it does.”

“And you still won’t even consider sending the journal back to him?”

“That’s a hard no. That journal will either be donated to science upon my death or will stay locked in my desk for all eternity.” Just then, my phone vibrates, alerting me to a text message. “One second.” I lower the phone and look at the screen. It’s from Cristina. I hit the view button and read the message twice before bringing the phone back to my ear.

“Who was it from?” Maggie asks.

“Cristina. It said, ‘I sent you a present. You can return it if you don’t like it, but I think it will fit you great.’”

“That sounds nice. Is she there? Did she drop something off?”

“I don’t know.” I turn off the stove and walk over to my door to look through the peephole. “She isn’t outside.” I then open the door to check if she left something in the hall. “Nothing’s here.”

I’m about to turn back into the apartment when I hear a strange noise coming from the stairwell beside the elevator. It sounds like a disgruntled combination of stomping, running and grunts.

“What are you doing?” Maggie asks. I don’t answer as I listen to the sound more closely. It gets louder and louder, seeming to reach some kind of a crescendo. I move the phone a few inches away from my ear and grip the doorknob as I slowly back into the apartment.

“What the...”

“Kara? Are you okay?” Maggie is trying to get my attention but her voice seems so far away.