PART 2 \u2014 THE PHOTOGRAPH IN HIS POCKET
\nThe photograph slipped from my fingers and landed facedown on the carpet.
\nFor several seconds, I couldn\u2019t breathe.
\nThen I picked it up again.
\nI needed to be certain.
\nIt was an old instant photograph, slightly bent at the corners, with a date handwritten across the white border.
\nThe date of my accident.
\nBut that wasn\u2019t what made me scream.
\nIt was the picture itself.
\nMy car.
\nThe same silver sedan the police told me had been destroyed after I crashed through a guardrail.
\nIt was sitting crooked beside the road, its front end crushed.
\nAnd standing beside it was Richard.
\nI stared at his face in the photograph.
\nHe wasn\u2019t wearing hospital scrubs.
\nHe wasn\u2019t arriving in an ambulance.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
He was wearing jeans and a dark jacket.
\nWhich meant Richard had been at the accident scene before I ever reached the hospital.
\n\u201cEmily?\u201d
\nHis voice came from behind me.
\nI spun around.
\nRichard stood in the bedroom doorway, pale and disheveled, still wearing his shirt from the wedding.
\nHis eyes dropped immediately to the photograph.
\nEverything about him changed.
\n\u201cWhere did you get that?\u201d
\nI almost laughed.
\n\u201cWhere did I get it?\u201d
\nMy hands were shaking so violently the photograph rattled between my fingers.
\n\u201cIt was in your tuxedo.\u201d
\nRichard closed his eyes.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
That terrified me more than if he had denied everything.
\n\u201cYou were there.\u201d
\nHe said nothing.
\n\u201cRichard.\u201d
\nMy voice cracked.
\n\u201cYou were at my accident.\u201d
\nHe slowly sat on the edge of the bed.
\n\u201cYes.\u201d
\nOne word.
\nOne tiny word that shattered the first year of our relationship.
\nI backed away from him.
\n\u201cYou told me you met me at the hospital.\u201d
\n\u201cI did.\u201d
\n\u201cNo.\u201d
\nI pointed at the photograph.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
\u201cYou met me before the hospital.\u201d
\nRichard rubbed both hands over his face.
\n\u201cThere are things about that night you don\u2019t remember.\u201d
\n\u201cI know that.\u201d
\n\u201cAnd maybe that was a blessing.\u201d
\nMy stomach turned.
\n\u201cA blessing?\u201d
\n\u201cEmily\u2014\u201d
\n\u201cTell me what happened.\u201d
\nHe looked toward the bedroom door.
\nAlmost as though he was considering running.
\nThat was when I noticed something else.
\nThere was writing on the back of the photograph.
\nI turned it over.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Four words were written in black ink.
\nSHE CAN\u2019T REMEMBER ME.
\nMy heart stopped.
\nI looked at Richard.
\n\u201cDid you write this?\u201d
\n\u201cNo.\u201d
\nHis answer came too quickly.
\n\u201cThen who did?\u201d
\nHe stared at the photograph.
\n\u201cI don\u2019t know.\u201d
\n\u201cStop lying!\u201d
\n\u201cI\u2019m not lying about that.\u201d
\n\u201cAbout THAT?\u201d
\nThe words came out louder than I intended.
\n\u201cSo there are other things you ARE lying about?\u201d
\nRichard stood.
\n\u201cEmily, please.\u201d
\n\u201cDon\u2019t come near me.\u201d
\nHe stopped immediately.
\nFor the first time since I had known him, I was afraid of him.
\nNot because he looked dangerous.
\nBecause he looked guilty.
\nI grabbed my phone from the nightstand.
\n\u201cWhat are you doing?\u201d
\n\u201cCalling my mother.\u201d
\nHis expression changed instantly.
\n\u201cNo.\u201d
\nI stared at him.
\n\u201cWhat?\u201d
\n\u201cDon\u2019t call her.\u201d
\nThat made no sense.
\n\u201cMy mother picked me up from the hospital. She sat beside me during physical therapy. She was there when I couldn\u2019t even remember my own apartment number.\u201d
\n\u201cI know.\u201d
\n\u201cThen why shouldn\u2019t I call her?\u201d
\nRichard swallowed.
\n\u201cBecause your mother knows about the photograph.\u201d
\nThe room went completely silent.
\nI lowered the phone.
\n\u201cWhat did you just say?\u201d
\nRichard walked toward the window.
\nOutside, morning sunlight spilled across the hotel gardens where our wedding guests had celebrated only hours earlier.
\n\u201cShe knows I was there.\u201d
\n\u201cHow?\u201d
\nHe didn\u2019t answer.
\n\u201cHOW?\u201d
\n\u201cBecause she was there too.\u201d
\nI felt something inside me drop.
\n\u201cNo.\u201d
\n\u201cEmily\u2014\u201d
\n\u201cMy mother was home that night.\u201d
\n\u201cThat\u2019s what she told you.\u201d
\nI stared at him.
\nSuddenly, pieces of memories flashed through my mind.
\nNot complete memories.
\nFragments.
\nRain against a windshield.
\nHeadlights.
\nSomeone shouting.
\nMy hands gripping the steering wheel.
\nThen nothing.
\nI pressed my fingers against my temples.
\nRichard noticed.
\n\u201cWhat are you remembering?\u201d
\n\u201cI don\u2019t know.\u201d
\n\u201cDon\u2019t force it.\u201d
\n\u201cWhy?\u201d
\nI looked at him.
\n\u201cBecause you\u2019re afraid I\u2019ll remember you?\u201d
\nHis face tightened.
\nI continued.
\n\u201cWere you following me that night?\u201d
\n\u201cNo.\u201d
\n\u201cWere you in my car?\u201d
\n\u201cNo.\u201d
\n\u201cDid you cause the accident?\u201d
\nRichard didn\u2019t answer.
\nMy knees almost buckled.
\n\u201cOh my God.\u201d
\n\u201cIt wasn\u2019t supposed to happen.\u201d
\nMy blood went cold.
\n\u201cWhat wasn\u2019t supposed to happen?\u201d
\nHe stared at the floor.
\n\u201cRichard.\u201d
\nNothing.
\nI stepped closer.
\n\u201cLOOK AT ME.\u201d
\nHe finally raised his eyes.
\n\u201cI followed your car.\u201d
\nThe words landed like stones.
\n\u201cWhy?\u201d
\n\u201cBecause someone asked me to.\u201d
\n\u201cWho?\u201d
\nHe looked away again.
\nMy voice became a whisper.
\n\u201cWas it my mother?\u201d
\nRichard shook his head.
\n\u201cNo.\u201d
\n\u201cThen who?\u201d
\nHe didn\u2019t answer.
\nI grabbed my suitcase.
\n\u201cWhat are you doing?\u201d
\n\u201cLeaving.\u201d
\n\u201cYou can\u2019t.\u201d
\n\u201cWatch me.\u201d
\n\u201cEmily, there are people you shouldn\u2019t contact until I explain everything.\u201d
\nI stopped.
\n\u201cPeople?\u201d
\n\u201cYes.\u201d
\n\u201cWhat people?\u201d
\nHe came toward me.
\nI raised my phone.
\n\u201cStay back.\u201d
\nRichard froze.
\n\u201cYou married me knowing I couldn\u2019t remember that night.\u201d
\n\u201cYes.\u201d
\n\u201cYou watched me spend months trying to rebuild my life.\u201d
\n\u201cYes.\u201d
\n\u201cYou stood beside me while I cried because I couldn\u2019t remember how the accident happened.\u201d
\nHis eyes filled with tears.
\n\u201cYes.\u201d
\n\u201cAnd you said nothing.\u201d
\n\u201cI was trying to protect you.\u201d
\nI laughed bitterly.
\n\u201cPeople always say that when they\u2019re protecting themselves.\u201d
\nThat hurt him.
\nI could see it.
\nBut I didn\u2019t care anymore.
\nI grabbed my purse and walked toward the door.
\nThen Richard said something that stopped me.
\n\u201cYou weren\u2019t alone in the car.\u201d
\nMy hand froze on the doorknob.
\nAccording to the police report, I had been alone.
\nAccording to my mother, I had been alone.
\nAccording to every story I had heard for the last fourteen months, I had been driving home alone when I lost control on a wet road.
\nI slowly turned around.
\n\u201cWhat?\u201d
\nRichard\u2019s face was almost gray.
\n\u201cThere was someone else with you.\u201d
\n\u201cWho?\u201d
\n\u201cI never learned his name.\u201d
\n\u201cHis?\u201d
\n\u201cYes.\u201d
\nI tried to remember.
\nNothing.
\n\u201cWhat happened to him?\u201d
\nRichard stared at me.
\n\u201cThat\u2019s the part nobody wanted you asking about.\u201d
\nA chill traveled down my spine.
\n\u201cWas he hurt?\u201d
\nRichard said nothing.
\n\u201cWas he killed?\u201d
\n\u201cI don\u2019t know.\u201d
\n\u201cYou were THERE!\u201d
\n\u201cI saw him get out.\u201d
\nI blinked.
\n\u201cHe walked away?\u201d
\n\u201cYes.\u201d
\n\u201cThen why didn\u2019t the police mention him?\u201d
\n\u201cBecause he disappeared before they arrived.\u201d
\nI sank into the chair.
\nMy entire understanding of that night was collapsing.
\nRichard continued.
\n\u201cWhen your car hit the barrier, I stopped about fifty yards behind you. Before I could reach the car, the passenger door opened.\u201d
\n\u201cWhat did he look like?\u201d
\n\u201cIt was raining. I couldn\u2019t see his face.\u201d
\n\u201cThen what did you see?\u201d
\n\u201cHe was tall. Dark coat. He was bleeding from his forehead.\u201d
\nRichard hesitated.
\n\u201cAnd he was carrying something.\u201d
\n\u201cWhat?\u201d
\n\u201cA red folder.\u201d
\nSomething flashed behind my eyes.
\nRED.
\nA folder on my passenger seat.
\nMy own voice shouting:
\n\u201cGive it back!\u201d
\nThen another flash.
\nA man\u2019s hand grabbing my wrist.
\nI gasped.
\nRichard rushed forward.
\n\u201cWhat?\u201d
\nI stood so quickly the chair fell backward.
\n\u201cI remember the folder.\u201d
\nHis face changed.
\n\u201cYou do?\u201d
\n\u201cYes.\u201d
\n\u201cWhat was inside?\u201d
\n\u201cI don\u2019t know.\u201d
\nBut another fragment came.
\nMy mother standing in my apartment three days before the crash.
\nShe was angry.
\nTerrified.
\n\u201cYou need to stop asking questions, Emily.\u201d
\nI had forgotten that conversation completely.
\nUntil now.
\nI whispered, \u201cMy mother knew about it.\u201d
\nRichard stared at me.
\nBefore either of us could speak, my phone rang.
\nMOM.
\nWe both stared at the screen.
\n\u201cDon\u2019t answer,\u201d Richard whispered.
\nI answered.
\n\u201cMom?\u201d
\nFor several seconds, there was only breathing.
\nThen my mother spoke.
\n\u201cEmily, where are you?\u201d
\n\u201cAt the hotel.\u201d
\n\u201cIs Richard with you?\u201d
\nI looked at him.
\n\u201cYes.\u201d
\nHer voice became strangely calm.
\n\u201cListen carefully. Leave the room.\u201d
\n\u201cWhy?\u201d
\n\u201cDon\u2019t tell him where you\u2019re going.\u201d
\nRichard shook his head desperately.
\n\u201cMom, I found a photograph.\u201d
\nSilence.
\nThen I heard something hit the floor on her end.
\n\u201cWhat photograph?\u201d
\n\u201cMy car after the accident.\u201d
\nAnother silence.
\n\u201cRichard is standing beside it.\u201d
\nMy mother\u2019s breathing changed.
\n\u201cEmily\u2026\u201d
\n\u201cAnd there\u2019s writing on the back.\u201d
\n\u201cWhat does it say?\u201d
\nI read it.
\n\u201cShe can\u2019t remember me.\u201d
\nMy mother didn\u2019t respond.
\n\u201cMom?\u201d
\nThen she whispered something I never expected.
\n\u201cThat photograph wasn\u2019t supposed to exist.\u201d
\nMy mouth went dry.
\n\u201cHow do you know?\u201d
\n\u201cBecause I destroyed it.\u201d
\nI looked at Richard.
\nHe looked equally stunned.
\n\u201cYou destroyed it?\u201d
\n\u201cI thought I did.\u201d
\n\u201cWhy?\u201d
\n\u201cEmily, please come home.\u201d
\n\u201cNo.\u201d
\n\u201cWe can talk here.\u201d
\n\u201cWe can talk right now.\u201d
\n\u201cI can\u2019t.\u201d
\n\u201cWhy?\u201d
\nShe hesitated.
\nThen I heard a man\u2019s voice in the background.
\nVery faint.
\n\u201cWho is that?\u201d
\nMy mother immediately said, \u201cNobody.\u201d
\nBut I had heard him.
\nAnd something about that voice made my entire body go cold.
\nBecause somewhere inside my damaged memory, I knew it.
\n\u201cMom.\u201d
\nShe didn\u2019t answer.
\n\u201cWho is in your house?\u201d
\nThe call disconnected.
\nI stared at my phone.
\nRichard whispered, \u201cEmily?\u201d
\nI was already calling back.
\nNo answer.
\nAgain.
\nNo answer.
\nThen a text message arrived.
\nNot from my mother.
\nUnknown number.
\nThere was no greeting.
\nNo explanation.
\nOnly a photograph.
\nMy hands began shaking again.
\nIt showed my mother standing beside my wrecked car on the night of the accident.
\nBut she wasn\u2019t alone.
\nA man stood beside her.
\nTall.
\nDark coat.
\nA thin scar above his eyebrow.
\nHe was holding a red folder.
\nUnder the photograph was one sentence.
\nASK YOUR HUSBAND WHY HE LET THEM TAKE YOU.
\nI slowly lifted my eyes toward Richard.
\nHe had gone completely white.
\n\u201cYou recognize him,\u201d I whispered.
\nRichard said nothing.
\n\u201cYou said you never saw his face.\u201d
\nStill nothing.
\n\u201cYou lied.\u201d
\nHis eyes filled with something I couldn\u2019t understand.
\nFear.
\nNot fear of me.
\nFear of the man in the photograph.
\n\u201cEmily,\u201d he whispered, \u201clock the door.\u201d
\nMy heartbeat thundered.
\n\u201cWhy?\u201d
\nRichard stared past me toward the hallway.
\n\u201cBecause that man isn\u2019t supposed to know we got married.\u201d
\nThree knocks suddenly sounded from the other side of our hotel-room door.
\nKnock.
\nKnock.
\nKnock.
\nNeither of us moved.
\nThen a man spoke from the hallway.
\n\u201cEmily?\u201d
\nMy blood turned to ice.
\nI knew that voice.
\nNot from the phone.
\nNot from yesterday.
\nFrom the night of my accident.
\nAnd before Richard could stop me, a missing piece of memory finally slammed back into place.
\nThat same voice screaming from my passenger seat as my car raced toward the guardrail:
\n\u201cEMILY, IF YOU OPEN THAT FOLDER, YOUR MOTHER LOSES EVERYTHING.\u201d…………..<\/p>\n
PART 2 \u2014 THE PHOTOGRAPH IN HIS POCKET The photograph slipped from my fingers and landed facedown on the carpet. For several seconds, I couldn\u2019t breathe. Then I picked it … <\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":5199,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-6834","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-story"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/echostoryus.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/6834","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/echostoryus.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/echostoryus.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/echostoryus.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/echostoryus.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=6834"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/echostoryus.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/6834\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":6841,"href":"https:\/\/echostoryus.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/6834\/revisions\/6841"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/echostoryus.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/5199"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/echostoryus.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=6834"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/echostoryus.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=6834"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/echostoryus.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=6834"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}