I remember a time just like this one, standing on the other side of June’s door in the middle of the night. I turned the key and locked her inside her room. The details around it are hazy. There was a fight between my parents, and I know I had left June so I could go hide at the bottom of the stairs and listen in.

I can’t remember what the fight was about or how long I stayed down there. All that’s surfacing is the moment I locked June in her room. Why would I have done that? The question causes another shift in the deep, dark place where the memory lies. As though it’s preparing to rise up, as though it’s only a matter of time before I will remember.

I realize, in this moment, that it was me who buried the memory deep down. Deeper than any of my other memories, which is why it’s taking so long to surface. That’s because it’s not just a memory—it’s a secret. A secret so dark that I had to bury it deep down, deep enough that even June wouldn’t know about it.

JUNE

“May.” I call out her name, and it wakes me from my horrible dream. She was here, in the cottage, standing outside my door, and she was scared. I tried to get to her but could only move in slow motion, as though I’d been drugged with tranquilizers. When I finally made it to my door, it was locked. I tried to kick it in, but I was so weak and slow that I barely even made contact.

I’m sobbing, the stress and fear of the dream locking into my grief and overwhelming me. “May,” I say, as some kind of explanation.

Ezra holds me from behind and makes gentle shushing sounds. “It’s okay. It was a just dream.” His grip is tight, and it slowly brings me back to reality.

My crying stops as the embarrassment at my open display of raw grief sets in. Our first night together, and he ends up holding me as I sob after crying out from a bad dream.

I gently move his arm off me and sit up. “I’m okay.”

“Are you sure? It sounded like a horrible dream.” He eyes me doubtfully.

I give him a weak smile. “It was bad, but it’s over and I’m fine,” I lie. The feeling of the dream lingers strong. I can’t get rid of the sense that May was right here and I couldn’t reach her.

I lie back down beside him, and he wraps his arms around me. I think about rolling around to face him, initiating more sex to distract myself from this feeling. But the grief is too heavy. I can’t even muster the strength to turn over. So I choose sleep instead, another trusty escape, falling fast and deep with Ezra wrapped around me.