Nine Hours

Chapter 25

Sweat rolls down my back as I sit straight up in bed. His voice. It was here. I heard it. Again. Every night this week Gunnar has spoken to me in my dreams. I'm sure of it.

"I will come back to you. Trust me."

I never can recall any other part of the dream. Only Gunnar's promise to return echoing in the dark, far reaches of my memory. Hot wetness rolls down my cheek. Tears. Every morning it's the same. Gunnar in my dreams. Tears burning my face when I awake. An enormous pain in my gut. An even bigger hole in my heart.

I glance at the time on my phone. The one that never rings. The one that never connects me to Gunnar. It's ten o'clock. I'd gotten home from work well after two, and collapsed into an immediate, deep sleep. Easing out of bed and heading to the shower, I chide myself.

"I need to get over Gunnar. I don't know what happened or who Trey thought he saw at the bar, but there was no Gunnar. No Norway. No Karla. No Lars. No reindeer. No broken wrists. No nothing. Not even a trip to Munich." As I scold myself, I scrub my skin hard with a rough loofah. Still the tears fall.

"Therapy. I must need therapy. This is insane. I can't go on this way." I study my red skin, nearly raw from the loofah. It doesn't even hurt. Nothing hurts except my heart and gut. "Either that or I go to Norway." Glancing up, I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. "I look like hell." Dark circles have taken up residence below my eyes. My hair hangs limp and lifeless, no matter how much time I spend styling it. Most of all, I've lost a lot of weight. Not being heavy to begin with, I run a finger down my collarbone, over the protrusion of bone. My ribs are more defined on my abdomen and my cheekbones are outlined more sharply.

The doorbell rings, and I yank on a pair of yoga pants and an oversize casino T-shirt. "Coming!"

Through the peephole I spy three people—Mandie, Trey and his wife, Lindsay. "Hey, guys. What brings you here?"

"We're worried about you," says Trey, as they step inside.

It's impossible to deny there is a reason for their concern. No one knows anything about Gunnar. They'd surely think I was crazy if I attempted to explain the reason for my emotional distress. No one would understand.

"Oh. Why?"

"You know why," Mandie says. "You were out sick for a whole week. No one hears from you until you're ready to return. Then, you're like the walking dead. What happened?"

"I..." How the hell do I explain any of this? "I honestly don't know what's wrong." It's the truth.

"Honey, did someone do something to you? Do you need to...talk to someone? A doctor?" Lindsay speaks carefully, gently stroking my arm. It takes enormous effort not to burst into tears—again.

Instead, with a small voice I reply. "No. No one hurt me. I'm fine. Just...depressed I guess." Yeah. That sounds good. "I guess while I was out sick, I started to think about my life a little." Not exactly a lie. "I should be doing something more worthwhile with my life." Like spending it with Gunnar.

"Sweetie, do you want to see someone? A counselor or something? There's one at the casino, you know." Mandie also speaks gently.

"Yeah. I've been thinking about it. Maybe I'll look into it this week."

"Do you want some time off? I'm sure some of the other girls would take up extra hours," Trey offers.

"No. I need to stay busy. Work helps, believe it or not." Touching that bar stool somehow brings me close to Gunnar. I feel his presence in the chair. "Thanks for coming over. It's nice to know someone cares. Once I get back into a groove, I'll be okay."