It was a man. She was sure she had never seen his face before. He was wearing a tan jacket and holding a small brown suitcase. It looked to be leather. He had dark gray slacks and a light blue shirt, open at the collar.

She looked at his face. She stared for a long time, trying to recall his eyes, his mouth, the curve of his nose, his hairline. It wasn’t that he was unfamiliar to her, it was that she couldn’t keep her eyes focused on him. Every time she would look at his cheeks or his ears or his chin, she found herself instead looking at his tan jacket or his leather suitcase.

And when her eyes did land on his face, it was like the first time she had ever seen him. There was no recognition.

Buzz.

“remember?”

“evan. i remember, but no one else does.”

“no one ever does diane”

“i’ve been looking for you. where are you.” Diane was reaching for a pen to write down this number. She needed physical, not just digital, evidence of his existence.

“i’ll come to you”

She began to type “actually I was just heading out. let’s meet up in town” while grabbing her purse and walking to the front door.

Halfway into writing that: Buzz.

“Here!” said the text.

There was a loud knock on the front door directly in front of her. Diane suddenly remembered that she had left the fridge open.

21

Diane was sitting in a corner booth at the Moonlite All-Nite Diner without any clear idea how she got there. She glanced to her right and saw her car parked in the lot.

“Don’t turn your head.”

Across the table sat a man wearing a tan jacket. He looked familiar.

“Keep your eyes on me, Diane.”

In her lap were some notes in her handwriting. One said “Evan McIntyre.” One said “King City?” The second one was circled twice and underlined.

How had she ended up here? Think back through it. What had been done to her? Or what had she done to herself? She felt like she was outside of herself, looking at her life through a stranger’s eyes, and she didn’t love what she saw.

She looked back across the table, and the man was not there. She blinked for a second, and he returned.

“Keep your eyes on me,” he said, “or you will forget.”

“Evan,” Diane said uncertainly.

“My name is not Evan,” said the man whose name was not Evan. Then he said his name.

“Evan,” Diane said uncertainly.

He repeated his actual name.

“Evan, I don’t care what your name is. I’m sorry, I don’t. Why did you disappear from the office?”