{"id":2953,"date":"2021-05-16T10:47:47","date_gmt":"2021-05-16T14:47:47","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.shanafigueroa.com\/blog\/?p=2953"},"modified":"2021-05-16T10:47:50","modified_gmt":"2021-05-16T14:47:50","slug":"identity-chapter-1","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"http:\/\/www.shanafigueroa.com\/blog\/identity-chapter-1\/","title":{"rendered":"Identity: Chapter 1"},"content":{"rendered":"\n

Who am I?<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Staring into the bathroom mirror of her hospital room, she saw a brown face. Hazel eyes with rims of green around the pupils. Dark blond hair in tight curls from the tip of each strand up to four inches in, then black up to the roots\u2014the natural color. Right side of her head shaved where doctors had put in a plate nearly six months ago and occasionally shaved again to access it, move it around, suck out unwanted fluid, and reset it so the skull bone would grow into it and keep it there permanently. The hair that grew there now was one inch long and scraggly like badly cut grass. A pink scar descended from that patch, cutting down her temple like a bolt of lightning, across her cheek, and ending with a strike at her jawbone. On the other side of her face, another shorter scar split her top lip\u2014nice full lips. She might\u2019ve been considered beautiful once, with proper hair and makeup, before the accident. Maybe people told her she could\u2019ve been a model or an actress.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Perhaps. She wouldn\u2019t know.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

There was a soft knock on the door. \u201cApril? You okay in there? Need help?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Her sister, Barbara\u2014or Babs, as she insisted April call her. Did April have a nickname too? Not really, Babs had said. She had a pen name, though\u2014A. J. Harlow, a pseudonym she used as a mystery writer\u2014but no one who knew her personally called her that. It was just April.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

April Janine Harlow, former high-powered defense lawyer, now bestselling mystery author, always the loving sister to the fabulous Babs. She only knew these things because Babs had told her. She also knew, from her own experience, that she liked chocolate pudding, couldn\u2019t stand daytime talk shows, preferred layering cotton sheets to a single scratchy wool blanket for warmth in her hospital bed, and enjoyed watching the light of the rising sun peek through the blinds and turn the white room rose-colored for just two minutes a day.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Beyond that, she knew nothing. Everything she\u2019d been before the accident\u2014her personality, experiences, hopes, dreams, life as she knew it\u2014was gone. Five months ago, she woke up in a hospital bed after being in a coma for a month and saw Babs\u2019 tear-stained face looking back at her.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

That was her very first memory.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cApril?\u201d Babs called again from the other side of the bathroom door. \u201cYou alright, girl?\u201d She jiggled the handle, testing the strength of the lock. \u201cIf you fell and need help, pull the cord on the wall next to the toilet. I think I can kick this bitch in too\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI\u2019m fine,\u201d April answered. \u201cI\u2019m just collecting my things. I\u2019ll be out in a minute.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201c\u2026Okay, well don\u2019t overdo it. I\u2019ve got the rest of your stuff packed, so we\u2019re good to go whenever you are.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

April watched her scarred lips twist into a mirthless, silent laugh. This hospital room was literally<\/em> the only home she\u2019d ever known. She would never be ready to leave, but how she felt about it didn\u2019t matter. It was time to go.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath and focused what little strength she had on the task at hand\u2014gathering her meager toiletries and throwing away whatever she didn\u2019t need. She picked up her dental floss, toothpaste, and toothbrush\u2014should she throw all this stuff out? She certainly had all these items in her house already, though they would\u2019ve been sitting unused for six months. Maybe now they were covered in a layer of dust where she\u2019d left them beside her bathroom sink, expecting to return from a short drive to\u2026wherever she\u2019d been going when her car crashed. Would it be like using somebody else\u2019s toothbrush? Probably, at first. But she had to get used to it, become that person again, reclaim her life. She dumped the toiletries in the trash, cradling only five bottles of medications in her arms before unlocking the door and stepping out of the bathroom.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

On the other side of the hospital bed, an administrator was handing Babs paperwork to sign, one wall-of-text document after another. She glanced up and smiled at April. \u201cI was worried you\u2019d make me ruin my shoes kicking the door in.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cDon\u2019t make that kind of sacrifice for me,\u201d April said. \u201cI couldn\u2019t live with the survivor\u2019s guilt.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

With slow, shuffling steps, she walked to the bed and sat in a heap on the edge, dropping her pill bottles on the crumpled linens. She sucked in air like she\u2019d just run a sprint instead of the totally unamazing feat of standing and walking unassisted for ten whole minutes. Initially, the doctors told her she\u2019d never walk again due to nerve damage. After months of grueling physical therapy, she\u2019d proven them wrong. At least that was one thing she could say about herself\u2014she was determined.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou need to sign these, too,\u201d the administrator said, handing April a pen and clipboard with papers attached. \u201cIt\u2019s all typical stuff about aftercare and insurance billing. If you have questions, let me know.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

April skimmed the documents, a lot of legal jargon she didn\u2019t understand. Should<\/em> she understand it? Babs said April used to be a defense attorney before becoming a full-time writer. What did it mean that she couldn\u2019t reflexively translate the therein<\/em>s and shall<\/em>s of legalese in the same way she could read and write English after the accident? She still knew things about the world, mostly facts learned from textbooks\u2014the first president of the United States, the planets in the solar system, how many calories to burn to lose a pound of fat. She still knew how to change the channel on the TV, and operate a microwave, and use the phone, and turn on her personal laptop Babs had brought from home. She hadn\u2019t been able to unlock the laptop, though; the thing used facial recognition software (Babs explained), and it didn\u2019t recognize her new face. And although muscle memory allowed her to type with her eyes closed, it didn\u2019t work for recalling the password. The mind is infinitely complicated<\/em>, her doctors said. They meant they had no fucking clue why she could remember some things but not others.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She skipped to the line where she was supposed to sign, and wrote her name in slow, loopy letters, with a big-A<\/em> and a big-H<\/em>: April Harlow.<\/em> Her new signature.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

As she handed the clipboard back to the administrator, Doctor Krueger walked in, all smiles while a nurse followed behind him pushing an empty wheelchair.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cBig day today!\u201d he said, clapping his hands together. \u201cHow\u2019re you feeling?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cOkay, I guess.\u201d Terrified, actually.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

After all the time they\u2019d spent together\u2014nearly her entire life, as she could remember it\u2014he\u2019d become an expert at correctly guessing her true feelings. \u201cIt\u2019s alright to be scared. You\u2019ve been through something most people wouldn\u2019t have survived. The key is to tackle each day one at a time\u2014and don\u2019t forget to take your meds. I recommend using a weekly pill organizer. They\u2019re not just for old people.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She cracked a smile, but it faded quickly. \u201cI already feel like an old lady.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The nurse flipped the wheelchair\u2019s foot cradles down in preparation for April. Doctor Krueger said, \u201cI\u2019m not going to lie to you. Your journey ahead won\u2019t be easy. But look at it this way\u2026\u201d He held his hands out to her, and she took them. Gently he pulled her to her feet, then guided her to the wheelchair and helped her sit in it without collapsing. \u201cNo post-traumatic stress disorder. No paralysis. All your arms and legs still attached. Honestly, you could have survived and been a lot worse than you are now.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Would she have traded an arm or a leg to get her memories back? Babs said April had a nice life, a comfortable and successful life. Even if there had been some bad memories rolled into it, forgetting them couldn\u2019t have been worth losing everything else too. So yes, she would\u2019ve made the trade, if she\u2019d had a choice.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

April felt tears welling in her eyes, her lips starting to tremble. Deep breaths, deep breaths\u2026 <\/em>The brain damage made her an emotional wreck, causing her to cry or rage or generally overreact to any strong emotion. Babs said she didn\u2019t used to be like that. A therapist taught her some mindfulness techniques that were supposed to help. I\u2019m a palm tree in the wind, recognizing my emotions and letting them pass through me\u2026<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cAll done!\u201d Babs said, shoving the last of the signed papers into the administrator\u2019s hands and practically bouncing to April. \u201cOne last thing before we go. I got something for you.\u201d She grabbed a shoebox-sized package off the dresser. \u201cYou don\u2019t have<\/em> to wear this. I just thought it might help you feel a little more comfortable going out into public after all this time.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Opening the shoebox, Babs pulled out a dark blond, straight-haired wig. The color matched the dyed portion of April\u2019s hair, which must\u2019ve been intentional. \u201cDo you wanna try it on?\u201d She bit her lip and held her breath. Clearly, she really <\/em>wanted April to wear it. Made sense; April was a scarred-up mess while Babs was always impeccably put-together, as if she expected a television crew to jump out of the bushes and start filming her at any moment. Straightened silky hair, bright trendy clothes, chunky jewelry accents, high heels at all times. Probably the result of living in Los Angeles most of her adult life. Even spending the last six months in rustic Maine couldn\u2019t dampen her LA-girl spirit.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cSure, I\u2019ll try it on.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Babs made a little squeak of delight and knelt in front of her sister, flattening the remnants of April\u2019s hair on the left side of her head and smothering it with the wig. She adjusted it back and forth, up and down fractions of an inch at a time until she smiled at some satisfying result. Fishing a makeup compact out of her leopard-print handbag, she held up the tiny mirror for April to take a look.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The wig looked\u2026okay. It was obviously fake, with a straight layered cut ending at her shoulders that was too perfect to be natural, but it was better than her real hair. She still had the clammy skin, sunken eyes, and scars to give away her damage. At least the wig got her one tiny step closer to looking normal. Maybe she\u2019d get fewer stares from strangers when they left the hospital.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI like it,\u201d April said, touching the hair. It did feel nice, not scratchy or too hot, as if it was a higher-end model. Not that she had any idea what the differences were between good and bad wigs, but Babs would certainly get a good one.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYay!\u201d With a bright smile, Babs whispered into April\u2019s ear, \u201cNow let\u2019s get the fuck outta here.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She stood, towering over April for a moment as she slung her purse over her shoulder. Despite being four years younger, Babs was close to six feet tall without the heels; in them, she was a lofty goddess amongst mere mortal women. She grabbed the rolling suitcase filled with everything she\u2019d packed that April wanted to keep\u2014a couple track suits she\u2019d worn during physical therapy, get-well-soon cards from fans she\u2019d never met and people she couldn\u2019t remember, some books, the Scrabble board game, her useless laptop, and a deck of cards\u2026that was it\u2014and nodded to Doctor Krueger.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cHere we go,\u201d he said, grabbing the handles to her wheelchair and pushing April out of her room.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

April gripped the chair handles with all the strength she could muster as the only life she\u2019d ever known slowly receded behind her. The nurses who had been the only people she\u2019d ever known waved goodbye as she passed, wishing her luck. Deep breaths\u2026I\u2019m a palm tree in the wind\u2026<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Maine Medical Center was massive. They walked down at least half a dozen corridors and took three elevator rides before finally arriving at the patient pick-up and drop-off area, but the trip was a blink of an eye to April. She\u2019d been outside before, in the hospital\u2019s gardens as part of her therapy, but she\u2019d never been to the main entrance with bustling people and cars and the smell of exhaust in the warm May air. She closed her eyes as this little slice of the real world overwhelmed her for a moment, familiar but so alien and aggressive\u2014palm tree in the wind goddammit\u2026<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

When she opened her eyes again, she was in front of a bright green SUV\u2014her sister\u2019s car. Babs popped the back hatch and threw April\u2019s suitcase inside while the doctor helped April into the passenger seat.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cRemember what I told you about your medications,\u201d he said, helping her with the seatbelt. \u201cDon\u2019t make me have to treat you for an infection around your skull plate.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cDoes that mean if I do<\/em> have a problem, you\u2019ll come visit me and fix it?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNo. If that happens, they\u2019ll fly you to me again. Too much work to be done here. People just won\u2019t stop getting life-threatening brain injuries, no matter how many times I tell them to knock it off.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She grinned. \u201cYeah, people are lame like that\u2026\u201d Her smile dropped\u2014palm tree in the wind\u2026ah, shit<\/em>\u2014and she burst into tears. \u201cI can\u2019t do this!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYes, you can.\u201d He patted her hand. \u201cYou can.<\/em> You\u2019re gonna go home, you\u2019re gonna go on long walks, you\u2019re gonna run again, ride a bike again. You\u2019ll meet people, you\u2019ll make friends, you\u2019ll have adventures. And you\u2019ll write again.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhat am I going to write?\u201d she wailed. \u201cHow can I make up stories when I don\u2019t know anything? I can\u2019t rebuild my entire life. I don\u2019t know how!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou didn\u2019t know how the first time, but you figured it out. You\u2019ll figure it out again. Everybody does.\u201d He slid his hand off hers. She reached for him again, but he stepped back. \u201cGoodbye, April, and good luck. Remember you\u2019ve always got your sister, but most of all yourself.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThanks for everything, Doc!\u201d Babs called from the driver\u2019s seat. She waved at him one last time before driving away.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

April watched him disappear in the side mirror and cried harder into her hands.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI\u2019m sorry, sis,\u201d Babs said, patting April\u2019s knee as she maneuvered through traffic. \u201cI know this is tough. Life is fucking hard, I\u2019m not gonna lie. You cry all you want, girl.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

April did sob all she wanted, letting the storm consume her and beat up her inner palm tree while the streets of Portland blurred by, until the city receded. When she looked up again, hiccupping and wiping snot from her face, Evergreen trees were whipping past as they drove on the highway, heading north.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cHow long is the drive?\u201d April asked, sniffling.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cAbout three hours. Might be longer if we hit traffic. We have to drive through a bunch of rustic tourist traps, unfortunately. It wasn\u2019t that bad when I made the trip last month, but now that it\u2019s May all the old ladies are probably coming out of their cozy cottages to party at the flower festivals and get wasted on Chardonnay. That\u2019s what I\u2019d do if I lived around here and was a cougar of a certain age.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhen do you have to go back to LA?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNever.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cBut\u2026what about your job selling clothes at a fancy store?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She shrugged. \u201cI can do that anywhere. I let my lease expire, so you\u2019re stuck with me for now. You\u2019ll need help around your house for a while, so it works for both of us. When you\u2019re self-sufficient, we can decide if I should stay or go.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhen I\u2019m self-sufficient. So sometime around never.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cDon\u2019t be so negative. You\u2019ll get the hang of it. YouTube University will help you out loads, too.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou\u2019re sending me to school?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNo, I mean the internet can teach you pretty much anything. YouTube is a site on the internet.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Ah, the internet: digital repository of stuff. <\/em>They had some old public computers at the hospital in a tiny library area, but she\u2019d only begun to use them recently. Babs used her phone to explain the whole concept of a digital world only two months ago. Before then, April had been too busy learning how to feed herself and walk again. Lying in her bed and watching lots and lots <\/em>of television had been her primary reintroduction to the world. YouTube sounded familiar and she grasped at that, closing her eyes and straining to recall something she\u2019d seen there in her old life\u2026maybe it would trigger other memories? Think, think, think\u2026<\/em>no, there was nothing. The process felt like trying to swim to the bottom of the ocean, like it always did.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Opening her eyes, she sighed. \u201cWhat other stuff is on the internet that I should know about?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Babs laughed. \u201cYou know, now that I think about it, I should probably explain the-birds-and-the-bees to you a little better. There\u2019s some stuff you can\u2019t really go into when other people are around\u2026specifically, making love, having sex, fucking, and porn.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

April\u2019s sister went into great detail about the topic for nearly the entire trip, with the caveat that April had to see it for herself to really understand, and then actually do it to really<\/em> understand. After two and a half hours the highway ended, and they were forced to take local roads the rest of the way. They drove down the main streets of those quaint towns Babs had mentioned, and sure enough old White women in comfortable khakis made up a significant portion of sidewalk traffic, carrying reusable bags and flowers from the local farmer\u2019s market. Each town seemed quainter and yet somehow fussier than the last, with intricate brick buildings lining the streets, hand-carved wooden signs over the doors of local shops, and fewer and fewer chain restaurants until only the occasional Starbuck\u2019s remained to represent corporate America.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cHere we are!\u201d her sister finally said. \u201cYour town\u2014Friendship Cove.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Per Babs, after April\u2019s bestselling debut novel, she had moved from New York, where she\u2019d practiced law, to a small, peaceful town in Maine to focus exclusively on writing. She wanted to live the \u201cauthor life,\u201d like Angela Lansbury\u2019s character in Murder, She Wrote.<\/em> April had watched the entire series while lying immobile in her hospital bed\u2026and yep, Friendship Cove was pretty close to a Cabot Cove clone, maybe as close as anyone could get in the twenty-first century. It looked like the other towns they\u2019d passed but with even fancier brick buildings with even more intricate stonework, little shops lining the streets parallel to trees with garlands of lights woven throughout, and a sprawling town center with an immaculate garden of tulips and a bright white gazebo in the middle of emerald green grass. In the park, people threw frisbees and played fetch with their dogs, some sat on benches reading books, glancing at the cars that drove by. Should April know any of these people? Still no ping of recognition, but they could\u2019ve been tourists or other people from out of town, it was hard to tell.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

After the city center, they cut through residential streets, past big houses with clean wood trim and tidy lawns\u2014no pink flamingos on sticks in this town\u2014until Babs turned down a long gravel driveway that curved up a hill and through a patch of woods, ending at a mansion overlooking the ocean.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThis is my house?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYup.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Good God, the thing was huge. At three stories, it was dark brown with lighter woodwork around the windows, an oak front double-door, and a three-car garage. She guessed it must\u2019ve had at least five bedrooms, two or three living rooms, possibly a library, and one of those giant kitchens that could host a party of a hundred guests or more. A smaller miniature house sat about fifty feet away; whether it was a guest house or a very large shed, she couldn\u2019t tell.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cAnd I lived here alone?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYup. You slept on the third floor, in a giant master bedroom with a walk-out patio facing the ocean. I\u2019m pretty sure your bedroom is bigger than my entire LA apartment.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Damn, how much had she made off that debut novel to afford such a monstrosity? And why did she think of it as a monstrosity? <\/em>Obviously the old April hadn\u2019t thought of the house that way, otherwise she wouldn\u2019t have bought it. Her heart sank a little more at her new reality. Out of the hospital for less than a day, and already she was diverging from the beautiful, successful author she was supposed to be.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Babs pulled into the driveway\u2014a roundabout with a dry fountain in the center\u2014cut the engine, and took a deep breath. \u201cAt last. I took care of the landscaping for you\u2014you\u2019re welcome. You know you actually had a notice taped to your door ordering you to mow your lawn? From the Friendship Cove Beautifying League, whatever that is. Bunch of dicks. Anyway, I also had that ramp put in for you, too.\u201d She pointed to a long wooden ramp that bypassed the rows of cobblestone steps leading up to the front door. \u201cManny did it for me. He\u2019s the handyman-about-town. Did an excellent job. And he\u2019s so nice. And cute.\u201d Biting her bottom lip to control a smile, she added, \u201cHe\u2019s the greatest.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI don\u2019t need a ramp.\u201d April opened the door and stepped out.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The gravel driveway made her footing uneven in a way she wasn\u2019t used to, and she stumbled a couple feet before steadying herself and taking slow, deliberate steps toward the cobblestone ascent. Just like she\u2019d practiced at physical therapy, she put one foot on the first step, pulled the other one up to join it, stepped again, and again, until, chest heaving, she\u2019d climbed the first set of steps up to her house.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

There were two more sets to go. Shit.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cAre you sure you don\u2019t want to try the ramp?\u201d Babs asked from ten feet away, pushing the wheelchair up the soft slope of the fresh wood. \u201cYou know, just to try it.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Gritting her teeth, she shook her head. But glancing up at the front door, she might as well have been looking at the peak of Mount Everest. She thought she was physically farther along than this. In the hospital, she could endure the Stairmaster machine on its slowest setting for a good fifteen minutes before needing a break. But that hadn\u2019t been the real thing. \u201cFine,\u201d she said with a sigh. \u201cJust this once.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

April used her remaining strength to shuffle to the ramp and lower herself into the wheelchair. Babs\u2014healthy as an ox\u2014pushed her up the rest of the way with ease. At least April got her breath back quickly, ready to stand again when they\u2019d reached the front door. She\u2019d have to work on her stamina, but like Doctor Krueger said, that would come with time\u2014not soon enough, but it was better than the initial prognosis he\u2019d given her, which was never walking again.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI tidied it all up inside, free of charge!\u201d Babs fished a set of keys from her purse, easing one into the lock and turning the knob. \u201cThere was about six inches of dust over everything, and your fridge was like a science experiment gone horribly wrong, but that\u2019s what you do for love.\u201d She pushed the door open.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

April stood, walked across the threshold, and froze. Babs followed, and froze next to her.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cOh my God<\/em>,\u201d Babs gasped.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Her house was absolutely trashed. Bookcases and end tables knocked over, furniture dissected and cushions tossed around, drawers pulled out and dumped on the floor. There were even a couple basketball-sized holes in two different walls. Somebody had ransacked her house.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cOh my God,<\/em>\u201d Babs said again, taking a step inside, broken glass crunching under her feet. \u201cWhat in the holy hell\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI take it that it wasn\u2019t like this last time you were you here?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cHell no! How could you ask me that, even facetiously? Who would\u2019ve done this? What kind of sick fuck<\/em> trashes the house of a woman who\u2019s been in the goddamn hospital for six months after nearly dying?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cDid I have any enemies?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cAre you sure?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Babs took a shuddering breath before answering, \u201cNo.\u201d
<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Can’t wait for more? Get the whole book here<\/a>!<\/em><\/strong><\/h2>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Who am I? Staring into the bathroom mirror of her hospital room, she saw a brown face. Hazel eyes with rims of green around the pupils. Dark blond hair in tight curls from the tip of each strand up to four inches in, then black up to the roots\u2014the natural color. Right side of her … <\/p>\n

Continue reading “Identity: Chapter 1”<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":2906,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":"","jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":true,"jetpack_social_options":{"image_generator_settings":{"template":"highway","enabled":false},"version":2},"_links_to":"","_links_to_target":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[740,738,739],"class_list":["post-2953","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-uncategorized","tag-black-protagonist","tag-mystery-novel","tag-woman-sleuth"],"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_featured_media_url":"http:\/\/www.shanafigueroa.com\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2020\/12\/Identity-cover-ebook_v2-72dpi-smaller-1.jpg","jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/p9Vyi8-LD","_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.shanafigueroa.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2953","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.shanafigueroa.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.shanafigueroa.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.shanafigueroa.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.shanafigueroa.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=2953"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"http:\/\/www.shanafigueroa.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2953\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":2967,"href":"http:\/\/www.shanafigueroa.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2953\/revisions\/2967"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.shanafigueroa.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/2906"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.shanafigueroa.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=2953"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.shanafigueroa.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=2953"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.shanafigueroa.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=2953"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}