Free After the Cabin by Amy Cross Page B

either. Apparently he just tells her flat-out that he doesn't want to come. I mean, I don't mean to be rude, but he doesn't sound like the coolest guy on the planet.”
    “Like that night at the club,” I reply.
    “Exactly.” Sighing, he checks his watch. “I guess I'd better go shut off the hot-plates.”
    “Thanks again for helping me back then,” I add. “I mean, on the walkway and then in the cafe. You didn't have to do any of that, but I really appreciate it.”
    He frowns. “The where and the where?”
    “When you found me on the walkway,” I continue. “I hope you don't think I'm completely insane. I know I probably seemed kind of weird.”
    He stares at me for a moment. “Are you sure you're not mixing me up with someone else?”
    “You came looking for me after I left the club,” I remind him. “You found me on the walkway, then you took me to some late-night cafe and we had tea, then you punched a guy and walked me home.”
    He pauses.
    “Didn't you?” I add cautiously.
    “You ran out of the club,” he replies, “and Karen went after you, but... The rest of us just stayed and listened to that awful band.”
    Feeling a shiver run through my chest, I think back to that night. I distinctly remember Matt finding me on the walkway, and sitting with me in the cafe. In fact, it's one of my main memories from the past week, something I've thought about several times.
    “Anna -”
    “It's fine,” I tell him, trying to stay calm. The last thing I want is to admit that I'm confused. “I was just joking. I wanted to mess with your head, that's all.”
    “You did?”
    I nod. “Sorry, my sense of humor can be a little off sometimes.” My heart is racing and I feel as if I'm about to faint, but I know I just have to hold myself together. “Ignore me,” I add. “I was going to set you up for some dumb joke, but it wouldn't have been funny, so just pretend I never said anything.”
    “Okay,” he says cautiously, clearly a little weirded out. “Sure, I... I should go check on those hot-plates.”
    “Do it,” I reply, and as he heads back along the corridor I hear the front door opening. Turning, I see Karen hurrying in, but I can immediately tell that something's wrong. She's deliberately keeping her face turned to one side, and as she hurries to the desk she tosses her bag onto the vacant chair, mutters something about the bathroom, and runs toward the door in the corner.
    I wait, and a few minutes later she emerges again with a forced smile and a noticeable cut on her cheek, along with what looks like a nasty bruise starting to show through.
    “Are you okay?” I ask.
    “Fine.”
    “What happened to your -”
    “I fell.”
    “But -”
    “I just tripped,” she adds, clearly feeling uncomfortable as she sits next to me. She's still smiling, but there's fear in her eyes, and a hint of desperation. “Don't fuss, okay?”
    I open my mouth to ask another question, but she quickly starts logging into the computer system and I can see that her hands are trembling. I want to make sure that she's okay, but I figure I'll have to wait a little while and hope her defenses come down, maybe after work.
    “The night I ran from the club,” I say cautiously, “did... Did you stay in the club after, or did you come looking for me?”
    “I told you,” she replies, “I came looking.”
    “And Matt?”
    “Matt?” She frowns. “He stayed in the club. Why?”
    “No reason,” I mutter, staring at the cut on her cheek for a moment longer before turning back to look at the monitor in front of me. That encounter with Matt on the walkway seemed so real, I never even thought to question it, but if that memory is false, then what else have I begun to imagine? And how can I be sure what's real and what's just happening in my head?
     
    ***
     
    Standing on the walkway above the train line, I stare at the spot where I remember talking to Matt. I keep running through those events in my mind, trying to work out