Forgotten: A Novel Read Online Free PDF Page B

just making conversation.”
    He looks away. “Something . . . came up, and I had to move suddenly.”
    “Sorry I asked.”
    “Forget it. This is it, right?”
    We stop in front of the large three-story brownstone Pedro runs his real estate empire out of. A string of multicolored lights blinks on and off around the doorway. There’s a boy of about twelve in an unzipped, oversized ski parka shoveling snow. I ask him if his father’s home and he gives me a noncommittal nod. We climb the steps and I ring the bell.
    I’m about to ring again when Pedro opens the door in his shirtsleeves and a pair of black slacks. A two-day beard grows across his prominent chin.
    “What do you want?” he asks without any trace of recognition.
    “I want to know why the hell you did what you did,” I say through clenched teeth.
    His body tenses. “What’s your problem, chica ? What did I . . .” He stops as he catches sight of Dominic behind me. I can see the dots connecting behind his eyes. “Madre de Dios.”
    “That’s the understatement of the year, man,” Dominic says.
    “My problemo, Pedro, is that you rented my apartment to Dominic here, and half of my stuff is missing.”
    “You didn’t pay your rent.”
    “Of course I did. I had an automatic payment set up. Like always.”
    He shakes his head. “The payments stopped in the fall. I got a judgment.”
    “Bullshit,” I say, but as the words leave my mouth, I remember how my ATM card wouldn’t work at the airport.
    “No bullshit. Espère. Wait.” He turns and walks toward a room off the right side of the hall. Inside, there are papers strewn across a desk and several black filing cabinets. He opens one of the drawers and pulls out a yellow hanging folder. He extracts a stapled document and walks it back to me.
    I take it from him with a sense of foreboding. It’s a judgment from the Rental Board giving Pedro the right to expulse one defaulting tenant (me) and to remove all her effects from the premises. I scan through it. The familiar words— nonpayment of rent, notice, service —swim in front of me, beating into my brain. Though I was waiting for something like this, it feels worse seeing it typed, sealed, official.
    And then one phrase stops me cold.
    It’s this: Furthermore, the Tenant is missing, presumed dead.
    I run down the street, tripping over the end of Dominic’s jeans, heavy and wet from the snow. The air sears my lungs.
    Missing, presumed dead. How is that possible? Why would anyone think I was dead? I called . . . I spoke . . . I . . .
    “Emma, wait up,” Dominic calls from behind me.
    My legs buckle. I fall to my knees into a snowbank. The cold seeps through the fabric.
    “Are you all right?”
    I have no idea how to answer that question. Instead, I drive my hands into the snow, the crystals hard and bitter against my skin.
    “Emma, you’re scaring me.” He touches my elbow. “Come on, you can’t stay like this.”
    “Leave me alone.”
    “No, I don’t think so.”
    He tucks his hands under my elbows and lifts me to my feet. He turns me around and takes my hands in his, brushing away the snow. They tingle and sting, but I don’t care.
    I’m dead. I’m dead.
    “Emma, your lips are turning blue. You need to get inside.”
    I stare at him. I can’t think, can’t speak, can’t move. I’m dead.
    A cab lumbers down the street and Dominic flags it. He bundles me into the back and gives the driver the address. I curl myself into a ball, resting my head against the worn seat leather. It smells like car polish. The sky out the window looks impossibly far away.
    When we get to the apartment, I open the cab door mechanically and follow Dominic up the walk. We go inside, and I take off my coat and shoes and drop to the couch robotically. I sit with my hands between my knees while Dominic turns on the gas fire and brings the blankets from my bed. I huddle under them, feeling numb.
    Dominic sits on the coffee table facing me, waiting, worried,