I don’t know. He’s up already, in the bathroom. I shiver again, still feeling his lips on my skin. It makes me remember when he kissed me outside of the hospital. My mind whirls around inside my head, trying to think about those fleeting thoughts during the night. I roll on my back and rub my eyes. I feel like I’m slamming the doors shut on whatever that was. I can’t handle it right now. This is my life. I need to focus on this around me before I push myself off some cliff of no return and lose it.
“Oh, wow.” Eli’s voice. “It’s a little after ten.”
We’re waking up in our house, starting our life over. Here and now.
I look over as Eli walks out of the bathroom… and regret it. He’s in dark green boxers. I can’t look away even when he notices I’m looking at his flat stomach, his defined arms, his strong legs.
I should be happy that he’s my husband…
I slowly sit up and force myself to look down. “Anything on the agenda for today?”
“Maybe we should start with breakfast.” With that, he gives me a slow, teasing smile like we’re flirting. He walks to the love seat and picks up his T-shirt to pull it on. He’s facing the other way and I catch sight of something before his shirt falls down.
“You have a tattoo?”
He pulls the shirt back off in one motion and sits on my side of the bed. Between his shoulder blades, there’s a set of wings with a dagger of some kind in front.
I graze my fingers over it, making him shiver. His response makes me pull my hand back.
“It’s okay.” He throws a look over his shoulder at me. We’re so close I can smell the scent of his skin—it makes me want to lean in and nuzzle my face. It’s a strange, fleeting feeling. A real feeling, though. That part feels good.
“This looks like…a military tattoo.”
“Got it in the Air Force,” he says like it’s common knowledge. “Oh… I know you don’t know, but it keeps happening. I have to stop and remember that you don’t remember.”
“It’s not the Air Force emblem,” I say, almost to myself. It’s very close, though. Here and now, I remind myself, but still I wonder about it.
“No, my own take on it. I liked the wing concept. That I can fly away.”
Lower on his side, the one tilted away from me, I spot a scar and lean over to look. It’s five inches long and thick.
“How did this happen?” I run my finger down it, but my heart thumps hard enough to hurt. It’s from a knife wound.
“Oh, that’s not from my service. I jumped out of a tree when I was twelve and a branch had a sharp point. It cut pretty deep.”
It looks like it’s not that old, and I’m sure it was a knife. I feel lightheaded. Am I creating an image of an open wound in his back or remembering it?
I want to ask about his service, but if he’s lying about this scar, is he lying about the Air Force?
I have an epiphany.
Thankfully Eli is facing away from me, sitting on the edge of the bed with me behind him so he didn’t see my expression. I trace the tattoo and think this through. I’ve been focused on my past and clues about my life.
It would be easier to lie and make up my story if he didn’t know it already. But his life? He’ll have to remember what he tells me. There are some clues, like this tattoo, that he can’t cover up.
Like I can fly away… What did you need to escape from, Eli?
He’s been quiet for a minute. Suddenly I realize it’s because I’m still tracing on his skin. As my hand stills, he slowly turns to look at me... with his going-to-kiss-me expression, which is part serious, part sexy, and part puppy-dog face with those eyes.
I shamefully realize we’re right here with a bed… but I lean back, too timid, and the moment passes. He pulls his shirt on as he gets up and walks out of the room—not in an angry way, but I feel like I’ve been rude all the same. I can imagine that a healthy, extremely fit male like him must be frustrated.
***
I take a long, hot shower, enjoying the sensation of the water’s heat, trying to clear my head. I swing from clear headed and ready to figure this whole thing out, to confused and scared.
I have to stop him.
What does that mean? It’s going to tear my brain in two. I don’t know who, or why, or where “he” is, or if it’s too late. Maybe it is too late and I should forget about it.
I keep seeing that scar on Eli’s side. Was that a memory?
It tears me up to think of him hurt. I feel so many different ways about Eli: care and concern, and then burning hot anger because I swear he’s keeping things from me. Sometimes I’m afraid because I don’t really know him. Other times I want to know him more.
I’m putting together a picture of the life he’s described—his time in the Air Force, meeting me, getting married and moving here. I don’t know much about his childhood yet, just a few scattered stories.
I look at the diamonds on my finger. Here we are playing this game. Faking it. Maybe. I can’t tell. I haven’t been asking him questions about us and our history, I guess because I don’t believe it’s real.
When I’m out of the shower, Eli isn’t in the bedroom so I look through the clothes in the closest. I have a little black dress and a few other nice ones for going out, plus a couple of summer dresses and a business-style blue one. Lots of long sweaters, halter tops, lacy things, and then rocker chick clothes. It looks like I have clothes for all kinds of different occasions and styles, and that makes me wonder what my style is.
Eli’s side has lots of nice shirts, sweaters and work clothes. Pretty typical male, I’d say. We have ski suits and supplies in the back.
I finally get dressed in jeans and a soft blue, long sleeve shirt to stay warm. The house is chilly outside of the bedroom when we’re not cooking. Eli had mentioned bringing in some heaters from the storage outside.
After blow drying my hair, I go through the makeup in the bathroom. I have quite a collection. I’m getting ready and playing with colors when Eli leans in the bathroom door.
“Hey, babe. Sabrina’s on the phone. Is it okay if she comes over?”
“Sure.”
He disappears again. That had felt so routine and normal. I pause and almost smile. Then my mind turns back to all the unanswered questions.
Eli said the neighbors checked on the house, so they know about the accident. They knew me before… Or did they?
Chapter Eleven
We eat a quick breakfast of fruit and bagels before Sabrina arrives. I go back to brush my teeth, and on my way back out, hear voices out by the kitchen.
A dark haired woman, about thirty-three or four, stands just inside the door wearing a long black cardigan over a turquoise shirt. Her curly hair reaches down to her shoulders, framing her face.
“Megan!” She rushes to me and engulfs me. “I am so happy you’re up and back to normal!” Each word is punchy.
“Thank you.” So we must have been friends. How do I make sense of this?
She pulls back and gives me a dazzling smile. Her eyes are a soft violet. They’re absolutely beautiful like the rest of her: perfect hair, beautiful skin, white straight teeth, a smattering of cute freckles across her nose, and subtle dimples.
“Oh, Sabrina O’Dalaigh’s the name. I’ll catch you up, don’t worry. And I won’t take any offense if you need to ask me anything. How are you settling in?”
I look around. “We’re starting to. It’ll take time to get the house done.”
“But it’s such an adventure!”
I gesture toward the table. “Please, sit down. I have tea.”
“Oh, that would be lovely.”
The kitchen is right there so I don’t really have to leave. Eli picks up the conversation. I’m facing away from them preparing tea to boil but sneak a look. They go together.
There’s that funny jealousy again. I look again and reevaluate my first impression. She seems frilly. And her dark hair and all that
makeup doesn’t quite match up with Eli. I fight a little smirk off my face, and then inwardly laugh at myself. If I don’t think he’s really my husband, why do I get jealous so easily?
“So, Meg, I’m going to run to the store while you two have some girl time.”
I turn and smile at him but that seems like an odd thing to say, considering the circumstances. “Girl time” is for friends. We just met.
“Oh, alright.” The tea pot is set on the stove so I go back to the table. Eli kisses the top of my bed and says goodbye. Sabrina watches the exchange, which makes me want to put more emotion into it than I am.
When we’re alone, she gushes, “I was so happy to hear you came out of that!”
“Me too.” What else could I say? “It’s strange still…”
“But you’re adjusting?”
“I think.” I have to dig deep to remember some social etiquette. “So, tell me about yourself. You don’t have to worry if you’ve told me something already!”
She laughs along with me.
“Well, I manage the new gym in town along with my husband Nick. You and Eli can come in anytime. You’re both set up with free memberships. Just check in at the desk.” She hands me a business card with the address and an artistic rendering of stick figure bench pressing.
“Thank you. That’s great, really. I need to get back in shape, after I get up to speed.”
“Oh, we’ll have to walk together. Nick and I are fairly new around here too. I thought it was the neatest thing when we bought this house, and then we discovered a couple our age was building close by. It seemed so perfect except… well, your accident.”
“Hmm… what was your husband’s name again? What’s he like?”
“Nick.” She grins and proceeds to tell me how he’s a sports fanatic and likes to play basketball, fancies himself a mechanic but can’t fix much, and likes to grow flowers.
We go through the entire pot of tea and a tin of butter cookies. Eli has been gone for over an hour when Sabrina invites me down to her place for a tour.
“Oh, well, sure,” I say, surprised.
“You said you’re supposed to start with walking?” she asks, still just as excited as when she arrived.
A second later I understand. “You want to walk down?”
“If that won’t be too hard on you.” She gets up and pulls on her coat.
“Great… just let me run to the bathroom first.” I actually want to put on different socks—these are thick, slipper socks that don’t fit in my shoes—and give myself a minute to think. Once I’ve changed socks, I sit on the bed, contemplating this turn of events. Isn’t it odd that Sabrina showed up for a visit and Eli immediately left? It’s like he doesn’t want me to be alone.
Still, this is still an opportunity to get out of here. I grab the black leather jacket out of the closet and go back out.
“Ready?” We leave, walking down the road in the frosty cold, with Sabrina picking up a steady conversation again. Her words make puffs of steam.
“I wish Nick were home today. You’ll meet him at Thanksgiving. Did I say how glad I am you’re home? It’ll be fun to have someone around here to talk to again!”
When we turn onto her driveway, I say, “Your house is so pretty…and finished.”
She gives me a warm laugh even though it wasn’t that funny. We step inside her home and hang our coats on the rack. It’s toasty in the house. The inside is neat and tidy—apparently there aren’t any babies or kids but I’m hesitant to ask about it. When married couples don’t have kids, it can be a touchy subject. She didn’t ask me about that either.
I glance around for a laptop or computer.
“How’s it working out to live there, with the house halfway done?” she asks.
I laugh. “Strange, I guess. I’m not sure I can explain it. Here I am trying to make sense of everything, but the house isn’t quite a home yet. There’s no pictures up or any personality.”
“Oh! That reminds me. I have something to show you.” She rushes into the kitchen and comes back with a picture. It’s Eli and me.
I walk to her sofa and sink down, looking at it. He’s leaning against a truck—the one sitting in our driveway—with a heart melting smile on his face, one hand in his jeans pocket and the other arm around my waist. I’m tilted into him, an arm around him too, but my smile looks a little posed.
I’m wearing a green tank top that I don’t recognize from the closet back home. Maybe it’s somewhere in the room but I missed it.
Sabrina clicks on the gas fireplace and sits on the sofa with me. “I thought you might want that. It can go on your fridge. That’s where it was here. I took it when we met you two, right after you moved in.”
“Thank you.” I’m not sure what to make of it. Can it be real?
“Maybe things will start coming together for you,” she says, her voice soft.
“It’s just…” I glance over at her earnest violet eyes. Sabrina has the sweetest face, one you can trust. I just don’t know if she’d let something slip to her husband or Eli directly. Still, I want to share so badly that I feel itchy inside. “I’m trying to sort everything out and put it in order, and then make sense of these weird dreams I’ve been having.”
“Like?” She leans forward.
“Just unexplainable… Sometimes I’m searching through a dark house, turning corners, running into dead ends.”
“Is that all?”
“Well, it’s hard to explain. Mostly I see little glimpses that don’t tie into anything else, like driving through crazy rush hour traffic, weaving through cars.” In pursuit. It clicks just then. I was in pursuit of someone, on a radio. I’m over sharing, I realize. “Say, could I get online here? We don’t have internet hooked up yet, and I’ve been dying to research more about amnesia. Sandy, too,” I add. I should have just said that initially.
“Oh, sure. No problem. I’ll grab Nick’s laptop. We both use it. Well, he uses it more.” She’s gone for a minute and comes back with a laptop that she opens. She puts in the password and lets it fire up. “Here you go. I have laundry to switch, so I’ll let you be.”
I open a new private window so I won’t have to delete the history. Sabrina won’t have any reason to check her router, and I doubt she knows how.
Wait—I pause, fingers over the keys, and wonder why I know how to do that. My mind races and actually comes up with information. I could probably hack into her router, if I wanted to. I shake my head at myself and glance up to make sure Sabrina hasn’t crept in. No one is around.
Now I’m so full of this new knowledge that I can’t remember what I wanted to research. It takes a moment of collecting my thoughts to get started.
I google Megan Hawthorn, car accident, 2014… Nothing. So I try “accidents by Sandy, September 2014” and three articles come up. One is short, almost like a police log. I’m not sure it’s my accident. The second has more details, but no names. It’s the third that looks like a full news article with a picture of a crumpled car—crumpled so badly that I can’t tell the make and model, just that it was dark blue. They withheld the name of the victim.
Next I go to Facebook. There’s an open profile for Nick and Sabrina, shared apparently. I glance over their profile photo; it’s too small with both of them in to see much. I search my name. Strange. There are hundreds of women named Megan Hawthorne with an e at the end, but only a few without it. I look over the profile pictures and wonder what I had hoped to find there. My old profile?
A knock comes at the door—a quick tap, tap, tap before it opens.
“Hello!” Eli calls, stepping inside.
“Hi! You’re back.” I close my window and shut the laptop, setting it on the coffee table. Does he know Sabrina well enough to just walk in? And how did he know I was here?
“Hey there.” He glances at the laptop. “I thought I’d save you the walk home.”
Home. It’s still a funny concept.
“Oh, thanks. I
was getting tired,” I say as Sabrina comes back in.
She looks worried, so I step over and throw an arm around her. “Thanks so much for the visit.”
“Of course! And we’ll see you on Thanksgiving. I can’t wait for you to meet Nick. Again. Re-meet Nick.”
I force a laugh. “It was great re-meeting you.”
She sees us out the door and watches us leave. We both wave before I get into the Toyota. Funny that Eli came back to get me as soon as I got some time alone.
“Sorry I took so long.” Eli backs up and heads down the road to our house. “I wanted to get everything for Thanksgiving.”
“Oh, that’s okay. I had a good time.” Why don’t I just come out and ask if she was babysitting me for Eli? Because, I think with a sigh, he’ll lie about it. If I pressed him about this, I’m sure he’d claim he’s worried about my health and if I needed help while he was gone. It makes sense on some level.
When we’re home, I walk inside first and find a huge bouquet of red roses decorating the table.
“Oh.”
Eli comes up and slides his arms around my waist. We’re still in our coats but it feels nice—his arms wrapped tightly around me, his face close to mine, his warmth by my ear. I tilt my head into him before I realize what I’m doing.
“I’m sorry I didn’t make your homecoming a bigger deal. I’ve been working through one step at a time, and today I was driving and thinking about the bigger picture. I want you to know how happy you make me.”
What to say to that? I pull in a shaky breath and wrap my arms over his and make a wheezy, “Oh.”
“I also realized I expected you to pick up where we left off, just jump in again. I was wrong.”
I turn my head to look at him.
“I want to woo you,” he says with a small smile teasing his lips. “I’m going to sweep you off your feet and make you fall in love with me.”
Tears tickle and prick my lower eyelids. I give in and lay my head back against him, closing my eyes to chase those tears away. He holds me closer and doesn’t seem to mind that I don’t say anything.
Chapter Twelve
“Did you check into the crime rates here?” I ask over my breakfast plate. We’re in flannel pajamas still. Eli made eggs Benedict for breakfast, really good eggs Benedict. The roses are holding court in the middle of the table.