Silent Run

hadn’t gone away. For some reason that fact both exhilarated and infuriated him. He dug his hands into his pockets before he did something stupid -- before he walked across the room and kissed her.
    â€œI’m going to check the drawers of the dresser,” Sarah said abruptly, moving quickly.
    He could have followed her. He wanted to follow her. He wanted to put his hands on her and make her remember him. But he didn’t move. He didn’t trust himself not to go too far, not to get lost -- in her. Damn. His own body was betraying his heart and his mind. He didn’t like it. He wouldn’t lose control. He wouldn’t be a fool again.
    Turning his attention away from Sarah, he focused on the apartment. The furniture appeared to be cheap, used pieces she’d picked up at a flea market or a garage sale. She certainly didn’t need much to live on. She’d never asked him for anything either. Even after they moved in together she’d refused to change one thing in his apartment.
    Looking back at their life together, he now saw all the little signs he’d missed. Sarah was never planning to stay. She hadn’t intended to put down roots. Maybe she’d stuck it out as long as she had only because of the baby, the unplanned pregnancy. That must have thrown her off her game. And the house he was building had probably tempted her to some extent, but obviously not enough.
    Shaking his head, he walked across the small room, trying to ignore the anger once again building inside him. He paused by the scratched-up wooden kitchen table. On top of a newspaper dated last Monday was a pencil sketch of a man in a beanie, a sweatshirt and a pair of jeans. It must have been the guy from the elevator. His pulse sped up.
    â€œDid you draw this?” He held up the paper.
    Sarah moved over to join him. She let out a little gasp of surprise. “Oh, my God. That’s the man who was in my hospital room."
    â€œReally? Because I was just thinking he was the man in the elevator with you earlier this week. The beanie, the sweatshirt -- remember Amanda’s description?"
    â€œIt was the same guy then, because this man was the one who tried to smother me yesterday."
    â€œAre you sure?” he asked, his pulse quickening at the link they’d discovered. “I thought you didn’t get much of a look at him."
    â€œThe eyes are the same. It has to be him."
    â€œYou must have drawn this. Amanda said you were unwilling to call the police, so I doubt this was done by anyone else."
    â€œYou think I drew that?” she asked in amazement.
    He nodded. “I’m not surprised it’s a good sketch. You used to doodle when we were watching football games together. In fact, you used to draw this character with a cape and a big gold belt with all kinds of gadgets on it. What was the name you called him?” He shook his head as the name escaped him. “He was some kind of a superhero, Alexander or something like that."
    Sarah stared back at him, an odd flickering in her eyes. “Alexander?"
    â€œDoes it ring a bell?"
    â€œNot exactly, but it sounds a little familiar."
    â€œYou liked to draw faces. Funny, now that I think about it. You wouldn’t use your camera to record actual faces, but you’d sketch people. Whenever I looked to see what you were doing, you’d crumple up the paper and throw it away. I thought you were just modest, but maybe you didn’t want me to see the faces. I wonder if you were drawing the people from your past. You certainly didn’t have any photographs of your relatives."
    Sarah glanced back down at the sketch. “I don’t remember drawing this, but maybe I did."
    â€œLet’s see, why don’t we?” he suggested.
    â€œWhat do you mean?” she asked warily.
    He pushed a blank piece of paper across the table toward her. “Draw something."
    â€œLike what? I don’t remember anything. I can’t draw a past that isn’t in my memory."
    â€œMaybe it’s buried deep,” he replied. “Sit down, Sarah. Give it a shot."
    â€œJake, this is a waste of time."
    â€œDo you have a better idea?"
    â€œYes, search the apartment."
    He could see not just reluctance in her eyes, but also fear. He’d noticed the conflicting emotions before. Sarah wanted to remember her past, and yet she didn’t. No wonder her memory was still hidden away. She was sending her own brain mixed messages.