Chapter Two: Fact or Fiction
Skylar
We put the leftover pizza in the refrigerator and I ask where the restroom is. We were best friends until she got married and then Connor put a stop to that. Well, I think it was Connor. Chase and I didn’t see her much after the wedding. I can see the confusion on her face when I don’t know where the restroom is.
“I’ve never been to your new house before.”
“Sure, follow me.” I follow her down a long hallway. “Here ya go.” She turns on the light and opens the restroom door wide for me.
“Thanks, wine goes right through me.”
We sit on the couch and I tell her when we met. I tell her we were best friends in high school and in college. I also tell her we worked at the hospital together until she got married, and that’s when she quit. “I was a nurse?” She thinks for a moment. “I’m a nurse?”
I wonder if I should have told her. Wouldn’t her parents have told her this? Why didn’t they? With amnesiac patients, I know you’re supposed to take it slow. I do remember that from nursing school, but have I ever had an amnesiac patient before? Am I telling her too much? Is this why her parents didn’t say anything? “You are. You’re a damn good nurse, too.” I figure honesty is the best thing for her.
“What kind of nurse was I?” She laughs. “Please don’t tell me I was a corrections nurse.”
Now I laugh. “We actually talked about going into corrections.” Chase talked us out of it. “You worked in the operating room.”
She thinks for a minute. “I wish I could remember.”
“I wish you could, too. You will in time.”
“I sure hope so.” Before the mood gets somber, she says, “Enough of that. So tell me about the box of fun stuff.”
I sit further into the couch and tuck my legs under my butt. “Here, hand me the box.” When she hands it to me, I search inside and pull out two movie ticket stubs, “Here, this was our favorite movie.” I hand her the stubs and she giggles. “How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days.”
“I love that movie. Is it weird that I can remember that movie, but nothing about my life?”
“No, I don’t think so.”
“I started to go through the box, but when I read the notebook, I stopped and called you.”
“You liked the notebook?” I giggle.
“I wondered who thought of the stuff in there. Now I should assume it was you.”
“And you,” I clarify.
“Me?”
“Don’t act all innocent….” I clear my throat. “Oh, sorry. I forgot.”
“Yeah, me, too.”
We both laugh, but it is nothing to laugh at. My friend suffers from amnesia, and we’re laughing about it. She wipes away the tears and says, “The things written in that notebook are hilarious.”
“We had a great time in high school and in college.”
Ava turns towards me and tucks her legs beneath her butt. “Why did we make a notebook of ways to break up with guys, and why are they so extreme?”
“Are you ready for this?”
I smile. “I can hardly wait.”
“It started in high school. We used to break up with guys through text messages. But there was this one guy who wouldn’t take a hint. He kept coming around even after you told him it was over.”
“I told him it was over?”
Laughing, I say, “Yeah, all this started because of you. That night, we came up with an idea of how to get rid of him once and for all.”
“I can hardly wait to hear this.”
“It’s good. The next day when you saw him in class, you became this clingy, jealous girlfriend. It took two days of you calling him constantly, and accusing him of cheating on you with girls in his class.”
Ava snorts and it makes me laugh. “So, he broke with me?”
“Oh, yeah. He totally ignored you after that.”
We talk and laugh as I tell her about stories of us in school. We had a great time together, and it feels good to share them with her. I don’t think she remembers anything, but it feels good to have Ava back. Well, sort of back. I take more items from the box, and tell her about each one. When she yawns, I say, “I should probably leave. I didn’t mean to stay so long.”
“I’m glad you came over. It feels good to laugh.”
“Me, too. Maybe we can do it again.” I look at her, and I realize how much I’ve missed her. “I’ve missed you,” I finally say.
She frowns. “I wish I could remember you… well, I wish I could remember anything.”
“Me, too.”
“Why did we stop hanging out together?”
Because you got married, and Connor turned into a jerk. I think he banned you from seeing your friends and from working at the hospital. “I think after you got married, you focused on your marriage and your husband,” I say instead.
She looks around the overly large room and frowns. “Is it wrong that I’m sitting here laughing and my husband’s dead? I mean, I’m sad that he passed away, but I never cried because of it.”
“It’s hard to mourn for a man you can’t remember.”
“Exactly. I feel guilty about that. Claire thinks….”
“Claire?” I interrupt. “You don’t call her Mom?”
“I do in front of her.” She exhales deeply. “She’s a stranger. I don’t feel comfortable calling her Mom, or kissing her, or telling her I love her. Same with Marshall. I don’t know either of them.”
Her words sink in, and I honestly had no idea what she was going through. To wake up and have no memory of anything or anybody. “I’m sorry. This must be really hard for you.”
“It is. Do you know what’s really hard?”
“What?”
“I feel like I’m not Ava. That I’m not this person who lives here in this house.” She looks around again. “Wouldn’t I feel like I fit in here? Like this is my home?”
The Ava I knew before she got married would never have chosen this house to live in. She’s always been more of a girl who would prefer a cottage with a white picket fence and two and a half kids. “I think this is more suitable for Connor’s taste,” I say honestly.
“There’s one more thing that bothers me.”
“What’s that?”
“Did I ever wear jeans or leggings or yoga pants?”
“Why?”
“Because, the only things in my closet are dresses and skirts and heels.”
That’s odd. “You used to wear jeans, and you always loved yoga pants, even though you never learned yoga.” I look at what she’s wearing now. “Where did you get those?” I ask looking at her sweatshirt and leggings.
“I bought these earlier today when Claire, Marshall, and I went to the mall.”
“They’re cute. That’s the stuff you used to wear when we hung out,” I admit. I have no idea why she doesn’t have jeans in her closet. She used to wear them all of the time. Maybe Connor was more controlling than I suspected. I unfold my legs from beneath me, and let the blood flow back to them before I stand to leave. “I should go, but you should call me again when you want a friend to talk to.”
“Skylar?”
“Yeah?”
“Thank you for everything. It felt good to laugh with you tonight.”
“It did feel good. I’ve missed you.”
Over the next few days, when I’m not at work, I’m talking on the phone to Ava. She still has no memory, but I feel like we’re making new ones. She’s becoming more of the Ava I knew before she married Connor. I wish she could remember, so I can learn what happened to her during her marriage. I want to know why Connor changed so much. I have this horrible feeling that he was this mean and evil man. God, I hope I’m wrong about that.
Ava
I have this memory… or maybe it was a dream… that Chase was choking me. I can’t tell if I was dreaming or remembering something f
rom my past. I researched coma patients and I know that sometimes they’ll make up their own memories if they can’t remember theirs. Why would I make up a memory like that? It must’ve been a dream, but it frightens me thinking it might not be. I call Skylar to come over for dinner tonight. I don’t remember her, but I like her. I feel like I can trust her, and she is a loyal friend of mine. Will she think I’m crazy when I ask her if Chase is capable of such a horrific act? Probably, but I need to know. I want to know what’s fact and what’s fiction.
Over the last few days, I have been searching photo albums, diaries, miscellaneous items in my closet and under the bed. I know the doctor said not to rush it, that my memory will come back to me when I’m ready. That’s easy for him to say, he knows who he is. I have to live my life saying “hi” to strangers and acting like all is right in my world. I just want to remember so I know where to go from here. Sadly, nothing jogs my memory.
I found some recipe books in the kitchen so I’m assuming I was a pretty good cook at one time. I make a Caprese salad, linguine with baby clams in a white clam sauce, and mini cannolis for dessert. I shower and dress in a casual sundress for dinner. It’s just Skylar and me after all.
When the doorbell chimes, I’m surprised and shocked when I see Chase standing at the door with Skylar. He’s dressed in a suit and tie, and she’s wearing a pink summer dress. I plaster on a fake smile when I see him. I wanted to ask her if he was capable of hurting me, but I can’t ask her now. Not with him here.
“Hi,” I greet them warmly. “Please, come in.” Holding the door open wider for them, I motion with my hand for them to enter.
“I hope you don’t care if I brought Chase with me.” Skylar walks into the house first, followed by Chase. “I tried to call, but your phone went straight to voicemail.”
“No, of course not. There’s plenty of food for everyone.”
When I close the door, Chase says, “I brought some wine, but I wasn’t sure which kind to bring so here’s a sweet red and a dry white.”
I smile and take them from him. “Can’t go wrong with either of these. We’re having linguini and clam sauce. Thank you.” He seems nice. He’s polite and thoughtful. Maybe that was a dream I had of him and not a memory. Sure felt like a memory. I reach for my neck and rub it with my hand.
They follow me into the kitchen where the food is simmering on the stove. I add another place setting to the table, while Skylar stirs the clam sauce, and Chase opens the chilled bottle of Pinot Grigio.
During dinner we talk about today. We don’t talk about the past. It’s comfortable and it’s a way for me to get to know Skylar and Chase better. I’ve learned that my conversations with Claire and Marshall seem forced. They talk about the past, and the way things used to be. Chase and Skylar talk about the present. The things that are going on now. I like that. It’s a way for me to get to know them, and I guess it’s a way for them to get to know me.
When we finish off one bottle of wine, Chase opens the other bottle. “Now I wish I had bought two bottles of the white,” he says, twisting the corkscrew into the cork stopper.
“Lucky for you, we’re not picky.” Skylar giggles.
I listen to the banter between them and wonder if they’re a couple. If they aren’t, they should be. We laugh and it’s an enjoyable time. After dinner, we have dessert in the family room where we finish off the wine. I decide I like Chase and that my vision, or whatever you want to call it, must have just been a bad dream. He tells me he had court today and that he was excited about the outcome. It piques my interest and I ask, teasingly, “What was the case about, a cheating husband?”
“As a matter of fact, it was.”
My eyes widen. “Please don’t tell me you defend those scumbags who cheat.”
“No, not them. I defend the women they cheat on.”
I look at him and smile. “Good for you.” I’m liking him more and more as the night goes on. “I didn’t know you were a divorce attorney.”
Skylar says, “He’s the best damn divorce attorney around.”
I watch as he blushes and she continues to boast about his skills in the courtroom. “So how long have you two been dating?” I suspect they’re dating, so I just come out and ask.
Skylar chokes on her cannoli, and Chase chokes on his wine. I could be wrong. Skylar sits up and sets her dessert plate on the coffee table. “We don’t date.”
Chase interrupts, “What Skylar means is, we don’t date each other.”
I had this all wrong. “You’re not a couple?” Could’ve fooled me.
“No, we’re just friends.” Skylar stands and takes the dessert dishes into the kitchen. When she returns, we talk some more. “Have you been remembering anything this past week?”
I shake my head. “Nothing to speak about. I thought I remembered something the other day, but it turned out to be….”
“What was it? How do you know it wasn’t a memory?” Chase interlocks his fingers and places his hands over his knee, as he pulls his knee up slightly. He looks very handsome and distinguished.
I laugh inappropriately because I’m nervous. I hope it wasn’t a memory. “Well, to be honest.” I pause. Should I say it? “I wasn’t sure it wasn’t a memory until you came over tonight.”
“Me?” Chase asks. “What did I have to do with it?” He sits up on the edge of the couch. Skylar mimics his move.
“It must have been a dream,” I begin to say. “I was confused and thought maybe it was a memory. But after spending time with you, there’s no way it could have been a memory.” I hope not, anyway.
“What was it about?” Skylar looks hopeful that maybe I’m getting my memory back. “Maybe it was a memory.”
I pause and look away from them and focus on the shoes I’m wearing. “I dreamed that Chase was choking me.”
“What?” he and Skylar ask in unison.
I shouldn’t have said anything. I should have kept my mouth shut. “I know. It just seemed so real at the time. I thought it was really happening to me.” I look at Chase and say, “I could feel the air escaping my lungs. It just seemed so real.”
“I would never hurt you, Ava. God, I hope you know that.”
He looks sad, and I can hear the hurt in his voice.
“I know, and I’m sorry.” I look at him and he looks pained. “It’s just… I have no memory. I don’t know what’s real and what’s not.” I look at Skylar and she looks hurt. “I don’t know anyone and I have no idea what’s real and what’s not. It was so much like a memory.” I could feel warm tears running down my cheeks. I could taste the blood from a cut inside my mouth. I could feel my airway being cut off; I couldn’t breathe.
“We understand,” she whispers.
“It just seemed so real.” I look over at Chase. “I’m sorry.”
He smiles slightly. “It’s okay. But if you ever wonder if something like that is fact or fiction, ask me, or Skylar. One of us will tell you. We’ll always tell you the truth, no matter what.”
“I will.”
Chase
When Ava told me she thought the dream she had of me choking her was a memory, I almost choked on my wine. I would never hurt her. In fact, I would do everything in my power to protect her and Skylar. I hope she knows it was just a terrible dream. I’ve read where amnesiacs confuse dreams with reality or fact with fiction. They don’t have a memory and often will make some up. It must be true.
The last thing I want is for her to look at me like someone who would hurt her. Maybe after tonight, she’ll realize I’m her friend.
“Well, I had another memory… or maybe it was a dream, too.”
I watch her and she doesn’t look at me. She watches Skylar. If it has to do with me hurting her, it was definitely a dream. I want to ask, but then again I don’t. “Was I in it?” I ask instead.
She looks at me and smiles. It quickly eases my mind. “No, this one didn’t have you in it.”
I smile big, and let the relief of her words escape my body. “I’m glad to hear it.” I look at Skylar and now she looks fearful.
“Was I in it?” she asks.
Ava laughs as soon as Skylar says those four little words. She understands that Skylar is afraid that the dream was of her hurting Ava or doing something unpleasant to her. “No, relax. You weren’t in it either.”
Skylar laughs, too. “Thank God.” The atmosphere in the room instantly lightens, and I’m grateful for that. “Then you can tell me what your dream or your memory was about.”
I add, “You can tell me, too.”
“Now, I’m not so sure I want to. It’s a little bit embarrassing,” Ava says, looking at her shoes again.
“Embarrassing for you or for us?” I have to ask. Ava looks at me, and I make sure I have a smirk on my face. I want this night to continue in the carefree manner in which it started.
“Like you don’t already know,” she says as she tries to hide her smile.
Skylar and I both sit back into the leather furniture, and I try to appear to be more relaxed than I really am. I’ve never been one to slouch, and it isn’t all that comfortable. At least, not when you’re pretending to be relaxed.
“By all means, please go on,” Skylar teases.
I interlock my fingers and cup them behind my head, hoping this will make me look more relaxed.
“Now that you’re both comfortable, I guess I can tell you.”
“By all means.” I try to look at her, but she looks away. This must be serious. I lean up on the edge of the couch, and take a drink of my wine.
“How many times have I been married?” she finally asks.
I seriously need to remember to not drink anything when I’m around Ava. That’s twice tonight that I almost spewed my drink all over me. Ava is only 25. I guess she could have been married in her teenage years or before I met her, but it’s highly doubtful. I think I would have known that about her.
“Once,” Skylar says.
I watch the confusion pass over her face. “I really need to give up on ever getting my memory back. From now on, I’m just going to assume everything’s a dream, or I’m making it up.”
“No, don’t give up yet.” I don’t want her to give up hope just yet.
“What did you remember… or dream?” Skylar asks.
She hesitantly says, “I dreamed or I remembered a bridal magazine. No, not one, several. I guess if it is a memory, I could have read more than one in preparation for my wedding to Connor.” She thinks for a minute. “Or… I was dreaming about preparing for my wedding to Connor.”
That could have been it. Women read bridal magazines while planning for a wedding all of the time, don’t they?
“It’s that, or…,” Skylar begins to say but stops.
I watch the two and I have no idea what Skylar was going to say.
“Or what?” Ava asks quickly.
“While we were in college, we had a small collection of bridal magazines.” Skylar’s face lights up at the memory.
“Another breakup?” Ava laughs.
I don’t know this story, but it makes me laugh at the things they could have conjured up in college just to end a relationship. I know some of the things they’ve done to the guys they’ve dated, but they would never tell me everything. This one is new to me. “This ought to be good. Please tell.”
“Okay, but remember, some of these were Ava’s ideas, too.” Skylar sits up and says with a huge smile spread across her face, “You had this boyfriend and he wanted you to meet his family one night when they were in town.” Ava listens quietly as she tries to remember the night. “You got all dressed up and before you left the house, you shoved a copy of American Bride into your overly large purse.” Skylar stops to laugh at the memory before she continues. “You said if you didn’t like his family, you were going to take out the magazine and begin reading it at the dinner table.”
Everyone laughs, and Ava says, “No!”
“Oh, yeah. I was waiting by the phone all night thinking I would need to come and get you.”
“And… you didn’t?”
Skylar laughs. “I really wish you could remember this.”
“Me, too.”
“It turns out that the family loved you, and when you went to the restroom, you dropped your purse, it came open and the bridal magazine fell out onto the floor.”
Everyone is laughing at the vision. Of course, the only person who should have the memory of the actual night has amnesia, and can’t remember a thing. So it’s being told as it was told to Skylar by Ava.
“Oh, how embarrassing,” Ava says.
“Did I call you to come and get me from the restaurant?”
“Ironically, a few months later, you asked me to be your Maid of Honor in your wedding.”
Once the laughter stops, I say, “I think I remember Connor telling me this story, but I never really quite believed him. I guess it was the truth. He told me his mom saw the magazine first, and thought he had already proposed to you, and the dinner was to announce the engagement.”
“I can’t believe he didn’t get up and leave.” Ava smiles at me and she looks happy and relaxed.
“Me, either. I would have run fast and furiously.” That’s the truth.
We talk a bit longer before we help with the clean up and leave. I’m glad I came to dinner, even if Ava didn’t invite me. Ava was one of my best friends, and I miss her. Unless her memory returns, I realize we may never get the friendship we had before the accident, but I’ll take whatever I can get.
Before we leave, Ava invites Skylar to have lunch with her tomorrow. She also invites me, but I decline; I have to work.
Ava
Standing in the doorway, I watch as Skylar and Chase drive off in the same car. I didn’t invite Chase to dinner, but I was glad when Skylar brought him anyway. After I shower, I slip into one of Connor’s dress shirts to sleep in. I wish I could remember him. I wish a memory would surface; maybe that would trigger other memories. I don’t feel like the person I was before. And I’m not sure how my family and the community will perceive this new me. Connor was an attorney. Am I expected to behave a certain way? Dress a certain way? My house and my clothes certainly tell me I am.
The next day, I shower and dress in something from my bedroom closet. Claire called and asked me to meet her for lunch. She wanted to pick me up, but today, I insisted on driving myself. It’ll be the first time I’ll venture out in my car alone.
I shiver when I see only one car in the two-car garage. It instantly reminds me of the accident that claimed Connor’s life. Of course, the car was totaled as a result. I didn’t ask and I haven’t Googled the accident either. I don’t want to know where it happened. With my luck, if I read about it or drive by the accident site, those are the memories that would flood my thoughts.
Once I’m fastened into my seat belt, I drive through my gated neighborhood and wish I hadn’t. People stare and wave as I drive by. I have no idea who these people are, but I assume they know me. I just smile and wave back.
I stop by and pick up Skylar before meeting Claire. Claire is waiting at the entrance of the restaurant when I pull in. I didn’t tell her I was bringing Skylar. I was afraid she would try to talk me out of her coming with me. I also didn’t tell Skylar we were meeting Claire.
“There’s your mom,” she says, unsuspecting.
“She’s meeting us here.” I park the car and say, “She called me after I asked you to have lunch.”
“Oh. Does she know I’m coming with you?”
I reach for my purse. “No, I didn’t see any need to tell her.”
“I wish I had known that you were meeting your mom here.” She reaches for the door handle. “I haven’t seen your mom since….”
“You were banned from the hospital?” I remember her telling me that there was a sign-in sheet and a week later she and
Chase were on the list banning them from seeing me.
“That’s right. I don’t think she’ll be happy seeing me here with you.”
Opening the car door, I say, “C’mon, I have a feeling Marshall’s to blame for that.”
Claire smiles as we make our way to the front entrance of the restaurant where she’s standing. She hugs me and then she hugs Skylar. I can see the confusion on both of their faces, but neither one says anything. It confirms to me that Marshall was the culprit with the visiting list. Maybe he did it out of concern or love for me, but I’m not so sure.
We sit in the corner of the quaint Greek restaurant and order lunch. The waitress acts as though she knows me, but I can’t remember her. I smile and pretend that all is right in my world. I’ve been doing this for a few months and it seems to work. I’ve learned that when people ask, “How are you?” they really don’t care, so the conversation is over fairly quickly. People seem to know me by sight, but they apparently aren’t friends.
“I haven’t seen you for awhile, Skylar. How have you been?” Claire asks as she fidgets with her white linen napkin.
“I’m good. Just getting reacquainted with Ava.”
“The last time I saw you was at the hospital.” I can see the uncomfortable look on Skylar’s face. I didn’t know Claire was confrontational. I didn’t see that coming.
“It’s been awhile.” I can see the uncomfortable look on Skylar’s face turn to something I can’t figure out. “I tried calling you a few times when Chase and I were banned from the hospital, but you must have changed your number.”
“You both were banned from seeing Ava?”
The waitress brings our salads and leaves.
“That’s right. It happened about a week after we were asked to start signing in whenever we visited.”
“I’m sorry.” Claire looks sad. “I suspected something had happened.”
Skylar’s face softens. “It’s all right. We both thought Marshall was trying to protect Ava.” Skylar looks from Claire to me. “I did get concerned when I couldn’t reach you by phone.”
Claire gives a tight smile. “I lost my phone during all of the… commotion.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t consider that.” Skylar looks sadly at Claire. “I thought that once we were banned from seeing Ava, that you intentionally had your number changed to keep us from reaching you.”
Claire refolds her already folded napkin, and drapes it over her lap. “You helped me through a rough time while my Ava was in the hospital. I would never cut you out of her life.”
Skylar looks at her salad. “I feel horrible. I should have known better. I’m sorry.”
Claire takes a sip of her water. “Well, I’m glad this is cleared up and you two are getting reacquainted.”
I smile. “Me, too.”
“Me, three,” Skylar adds. A quick vision flashes before my eyes and it’s gone before I can grasp it. “Me, three” sounds so familiar. I wish I could remember.
During lunch I finally ask. “So why would Marshall… I mean Dad, ban the two people who seem to be my only two friends from visiting me? I mean, lots of people seem to know who I am and they speak or wave to me, but they aren’t my friends. They must know me because of Connor.”
“It’s only my guess,” Claire speaks softly, “but I think it would be to protect you.”
“From what?” I ask.
“That, I can’t be certain.”
After lunch, we do a little shopping before heading home. We stay away from large malls, so we shop at a nearby shopping plaza instead. Claire thought it would mean less invasion of my privacy. She thought wrong. People still came up to me talking like I knew them. It’s not their fault I don’t have a memory of who they are or what they mean to me. They tell me how sorry they are about Connor’s death and what a wonderful man he was. I just politely nod, say my hellos, and make an excuse as to why I can’t stay and chat with them.
After an unsuccessful shopping trip, we leave to go home.
On the drive to drop off Skylar, I ask, “Do you mind if we stop by the cemetery first?”
“No, I don’t mind.”
I look straight ahead. “I spoke to Brett and Nichole, Connor’s mom and dad, a few weeks ago. They told me they went ahead and chose a tombstone for Connor.” I turn right on Oak Marsh Road. “I think they were worried that maybe I wanted to do it.”
“Are you sure you want to take this road?”
I quickly look at Skylar. “Yes. It’s the fastest way to the Oak Hill Cemetery.”
“You’re right.” She watches the road. “So did you want to choose his tombstone?”
I stare straight ahead. “No, I didn’t. I think they did the right thing by picking out the grave marker for their son. I have no idea what to get for him.” A shiver runs down my arm.
“You haven’t been down this road or to the cemetery since the accident, have you?”
“No. What does this road have to do with anything?” Just as I say that, I see a wooden cross stuck in the ground along the side of the road. “Oh, shit.” The realization hits me. I slow and pull over on the side of the road. I stare at the cross. “This is where it happened, isn’t it? This is where Connor died, isn’t it?”
“I’m sorry, Ava. I was hoping that someone had told you.”
Opening the car door, I get out without answering her. I look up and down the straight road. It doesn’t seem like a likely place to have a fatal car accident. Not unless it was raining and the road was slippery. Or snowing, but it doesn’t snow much in Lake City, Florida. I hear the car door shut and Skylar is right behind me. “I need to see the exact spot where it happened.”
“Why?” she asks. “It won’t change anything.”
Because I’m drawn to it. Because I’m hoping it’ll stir a memory. “Because I want to see the spot that changed my entire life. The spot that claimed my husband’s life.”
As we get closer to the cross, we both remain quiet. What I thought were plastic flowers around the cross, I soon realize are real flowers: white calla lilies. Someone’s been here. Who would be leaving Connor flowers? “Have you or Chase been out here?”
“No. Not since before the accident. It’s too painful of a reminder to see it. We always take the long way around to the cemetery to avoid this road.”
“His parents or my parents must have been here and left the flowers.”
Skylar doesn’t say anything. I look at the wooden cross and the live calla lilies placed neatly around the cross. I also look towards the empty field. I know that when there’s a car accident, someone doesn’t necessarily wreck and die exactly where a family member or friend leaves the cross. I don’t see tire tracks in the grass, but I do see some new grass growing further into the field. That’s where the accident happened. That’s where Connor’s life ended, and where my life changed forever. A memory starts to take form. The taste of blood. Pain. Fear. I’m frightened. Why am I frightened? From the accident? It must be. What else can it be from?
“It happened over there, didn’t it?”
“From what I heard, the car flipped over before coming to a rest on its roof. So, yes, it probably happened somewhere in the field.”
I remember this vaguely: “STOP IT!” I don’t know if I said it or someone else.
“Was I thrown from the vehicle?”
“Ava, come on. Let’s go home.” Skylar has pleading eyes, but I need to know.
“I think my memory’s coming back.” I want answers and maybe if she thinks my memory is coming back, she’ll tell me.
“No, Ava,” she says in a whisper. “It wasn’t you who was thrown from the vehicle.” My knees buckle and she steadies me. “Come on, we’re leaving.”
Skylar
Ava sits quietly in the passenger seat while I drive us home. I decided she was in no condition to drive, and that she had had enough for one day. On the drive home, she wipes away a
few stray tears but remains silent. Maybe I should have told her to take another route to the cemetery. I debate on how much to tell her. What should I tell her? I know some things and other things are speculation or hearsay. Chase knows more than I do since he worked with Connor. “Take it slow with amnesiacs,” the medical professionals warn. “Don’t rush their memory,” they say.
I park in the garage of Ava’s home, and call Chase to see if he can pick me up and take me home. He can, but it’ll be awhile. He doesn’t ask why, and I wouldn’t expect him to. Once inside the house, Ava says, “I remember blood and pain, and someone yelling ‘STOP IT!’“
I sit down at the kitchen table only after Ava sits. She has a confused look on her face as she tries to make sense of her memory. “What else do you remember?”
My question saddens her. “Nothing from today.”
“You’ve had other memories?” I ask hopefully.
She looks up at me. Her long thick dark hair is pulled up into a ponytail. “I don’t know if it’s a memory or a dream.” I remember when she thought Chase choking her was a memory. “Today you said ‘me three’ when Claire and I agreed that it was nice that you and I were getting reacquainted.”
“Do you remember me saying that before?”
“It sounded familiar to me, like maybe you always say that or something.”
I smile and I want to stand up and hug her. “I always say that, and you always hated when I said it.”
“I wish I remembered more.”
“You will. I know you will.”
“Do you think the blood and screaming were a memory, too?” Ava asks.
I think for a minute. I wish it was from a dream. “I think it sounds like it might be a memory from the accident.”
“I was afraid of that.” She stands and walks to the kitchen counter. “I need something to drink.” I watch as she removes two wine glasses and a bottle of Moscato wine from the wine refrigerator. “You’re not driving anymore today, are you?” she says as she walks towards me.
“As a matter of fact, I’m not.”
“Good.” Ava opens the wine and she pours us a glass. We talk about everything but the accident and Connor. I guess Connor is still too painful to talk about, even if she can’t remember him. He’s dead, and a death is still sad, even if you don’t remember the person.
We drink and talk until Chase comes to pick me up. By the time he gets here, we’re giddy.
“Looks like you ladies had a great time.” He sets a pizza box down on the table.
“We did once we started drinking.” Ava smiles. “Do you want some?” She holds up the empty bottle of wine and tips it upside down over her almost empty wine glass. “Oops, sorry, we’re out.”
I giggle and Chase smiles. “That’s all right. I didn’t want any, and it looks like you don’t need any more.”
He walks over to the counter and returns with three plates and napkins. “I brought pizza. I didn’t expect you guys to finish off a bottle of wine so soon.”
“You can thank Connor for that.”
Chase looks up at me and now I wish I hadn’t drunk that last glass of wine. I say, “We took Oak Marsh over to the cemetery this afternoon.”
He nods.
“Yep, but we didn’t make it to the cemetery,” Ava says.
He opens the pizza box and places a piece of pizza on each plate and slides it over to us. “I need a beer.” Chase stands and walks to the refrigerator to get a Corona.
Opening his beer he says, “How did you know?”
“I saw the cross on the side of the road.”
He sits and takes a large drink. “And you just knew that was where the accident happened?”
“I got chills.” Ava takes a bite of her pizza.
“Chills, huh?”
“Yep, and I felt pain, and tasted blood, too.”
I watch as Chase lowers his beer. “You remembered something, Ava?”
“It was just a flash of something. I thought I remembered someone yelling, ‘STOP IT!’“
“Was it a man or a woman doing the yelling?”
“I don’t know. The memory was gone just as quickly as it came.”
“This might be a big step in your recovery.”
“I sure hope so. I just hope the next memories are more pleasant than the ones I’ve had so far.”
We eat some pizza and leave.
Chase
The next morning, I go in to work and see Marshall Richards talking to one of the paralegals in the conference room. Lorraine has been working at the law firm for a few years, and she and Connor were always close.
The conference room has glass walls and offers very little privacy. We mostly use this room for meetings with the staff, and not for outside clients. Walking past the room, I look over and see Lorraine and Marshall sitting across from each other. It almost looks like a business meeting between the two. A million things run through my mind of what Ava’s dad would be doing here talking to Lorraine. When I walk past them towards my office, they don’t see me.
When I leave for court, the conference room door is open, and Lorraine and Marshall are both gone. I see a colleague in his office, and I ask him who cleared out Connor’s office after his death. I’m not surprised to learn that Lorraine cleared it out, and Marshall and Brett, Ava’s and Connor’s dads, came to pick everything up. I assume Ava would have done it if she hadn’t suffered such traumatic injuries herself.
By the end of the day, I go straight to Gondolier’s Pizzeria for dinner. I order pasta and a double scotch on the rocks. I remember something that happened awhile back, and I never gave it a second thought until today. Now, I can’t get it off of my mind.
While sitting at the corner table, I watch as Marshall walks in with Lorraine. Lorraine has changed from her work clothes of a dress and heels, and she is now wearing a sexier, more slimming dress. It isn’t so much her outfit that catches my eye as it is the baby she’s holding, and Marshall. Just before Connor’s accident, Lorraine went on maternity leave. I haven’t seen her baby yet, nor have I asked Lorraine about him.
I silently watch as they are led to a private table on the other side of the room. It’s a small restaurant and although I try to not watch them, I find it difficult to look away. Marshall acts friendly, and he is attentive both to the baby and to Lorraine. Why is he here with her? Why was he at the office seeing her? There’s only one logical answer, and I hope it’s not an affair.
During dinner, I decide how to handle my exit. It’s a small restaurant and I’m sure to be seen. I’m not sure if I should let them know that I’ve seen them together, or leave and act as though I never saw them at all.
I haven’t seen Marshall since he banned me from seeing Ava at the hospital. I’m still upset with him that he would do that to me and to Skylar. I always wanted to confront him, but Skylar thought it was best to wait. Wait for what, I have no idea.
After dinner, I decide to stop by their table. Maybe the scotch had something to do with it. Maybe my loyalty to Ava also had something to do with it. If he’s cheating on Claire, I want him to know he’s been busted. I pay my bill, stand tall as I turn my back to the table, and clear my throat. I want them to see me and know that they’ve been seen before I even get to their table. After I take a drink of my water, I turn around and they are both watching me.
We make eye contact, and I smile as if it’s the first time I’ve seen them. Buttoning my jacket, I walk straight to their table. I smile and reach my hand out for Marshall’s when he stands. I’m an attorney, I can fake politeness. We talk briefly and awkwardly before I leave.
Ava
When Chase and Skylar leave, I go to bed where sleep quickly finds me.
“What’s this for?” I look at the large plastic trash bag.
“I want you to throw away all of your pants. From now on, you’ll wear only dresses or skirts.”
I laugh. “Connor, is
this a joke? I love wearing comfortable clothing.”
“Wrong. You ‘loved’ wearing comfortable clothing. When I get home from work, I want your closet rid of such hideous items.”
I watch in disbelief as he walks towards the front door. “And go out and buy yourself something more suitable to wear. I hate looking at you in those… stretchy things you’re always wearing.”
I toss and turn and flip my pillow over to the cooler side and dream.
“Damn it, Ava! I said no!”
“Why? I want to see them. They’re our friends, and I miss them.”
“I don’t want you seeing them — either of them. You’re above them, start acting like it!”
“You didn’t think that when they were in our wedding.” Connor raises his hand and slaps me across the face. “Stop it!” I yell. Instantly my face burns, and for the first time in my life, I fear my husband. I cower. I don’t stand up for what I believe in. I don’t defend my rights to see my friends, to wear what I want to wear. I cower and remain quiet. My lip instantly begins to swell, and the taste of blood reminds me of my current situation.
“I swear, Ava.” Connor puffs his chest out and stands over me. “You’re going to start listening to me if it’s the last thing I do.”
The next morning, I call Doctor Adams for an emergency appointment. I’m not surprised when he squeezes me in. I don’t call Claire or Marshall, and I don’t call Skylar or Chase. I need to distinguish what is fact and fiction. If the dream is fact, that would explain why my closet is full of dresses and skirts, why Chase and Skylar were absent from my life after my marriage, and the earlier vision of tasting blood. Of course, I was drinking alcohol prior to bed so these may not even be memories, but very vivid dreams.
Before my appointment, I sit on the floor inside my closet, and go through the photo albums stored in the boxes on the top shelf. None of the photos has Chase or Skylar in them. They’re omitted from even our wedding pictures. Why would they be in the wedding party, but not be in the wedding pictures? I search through photos after photos, looking for what? I have no clue. Friends? Family? Children? No children are in any of the pictures. Did none of our family or friends have children? I look closely at the photos, notice something, remove several pictures from the album, and take them with me to see Doctor Adams.
“Ava, you’re looking well,” he greets me.
“Thank you.”
“How are you?” he asks, sitting on the stool.
“I’m good. I’ve been having these flashes of something that leaves just as quickly as it came.”
“A memory?”
“Maybe, and last night I had nightmares.” I think for a moment and he gives me time to compose my thoughts into words. “I think the nightmares are a memory.”
“Why do you think that?”
I tell him about the dreams and how Connor became more controlling in each one. I tell him about me not having any pants or slacks in my closet, and about our friends being absent from our photo albums.
“So you think that validates your nightmares?”
“I do. I also found these.” I show him the three photos I took from the photo albums. One was on our wedding day, one was on our first wedding anniversary, and the last one was taken a week before the accident. “I think these are evidence that Connor was abusive and controlling.” The first photo, I looked happy. The second photo, I was thinner, I didn’t smile, and I even had a small bruise on my arm. The third picture, I looked like I was crying. I was thinner than in the prior year, and I had a yellowing bruise on my left cheek.
“I’m sorry. It’s hard for me to tell you what’s real or not,” he says.
“But pictures don’t lie.”
He crosses his leg at the knee. “No, they sure don’t. Have you asked anyone in your family about this?”
“No. I’m not sure how.”
“What about your mother or your friends?”
“My friends haven’t seen me since the wedding. And Claire….”
“Claire?”
“She’s my mother. She’s also a complete stranger to me. I might be able to ask her.”
“I would say that’s a good place to start. But remember, she may be hearing this for the first time, too.” He pushes his eyeglasses up further onto his nose. “Many women who endure domestic violence will make excuses and lie about their injuries. I’m not saying you were abused and that you did this. I’m just saying that Claire may be just as shocked from what you tell her, as you thought it was a possibility.”
“I never thought of that. Maybe I should pay my in-laws a not-so-friendly visit. I’m sure they know what kind of man their son was.”
I leave the doctor’s office and head home. I want to do so much, but I need to collect as much evidence as I can before I go asking family members if Connor was an abuser. On the way home, I decide to make a stop at the cemetery first. I don’t take Oak Marsh this time; instead, I decide the long way around would be better. Maple Hill is a more scenic route, and a more pleasant drive.
I’ve never been here before, but I know where Connor’s plot is from Claire telling me. I go around the loop until I see the large oak tree. As I pull in, I see a woman kneeling down in front of what I would assume is Connor’s grave. It could be a neighbor, a friend, or a co-worker. Hell, it could even be a family member, and I wouldn’t know.
I pull into a parking space, and she looks up at me. She looks sad, and it saddens me. Connor was my husband, yet this woman is in mourning. I’ve never cried over the loss of Connor. It’s hard to mourn a complete stranger. I do feel bad over his death. I feel bad whenever anyone loses their life. I give her a slight smile, before opening the car door.
She stands and brushes off her knees and dries her tears. Several different species of flowers are on Connor’s grave. I wasn’t planning on coming, but I feel weird showing up with nothing. No trinket, no silk or live flowers — nothing. I make a mental note to bring something the next time I come. I’m his wife, so I should at least bring him something.
“Hi,” I say as I approach her. I look behind her to make sure I’m at the right place. The gray granite tombstone stands almost five feet tall. In silver letters it reads,
Connor Brantley Emerson
Loving Son and Husband
His life is a beautiful memory, his absence a silent grief.
“Hi, Ava. I’m surprised to see you here.”
Do I know her? “I’m sorry. Have we met?”
“Of course, the amnesia. I’m Lorraine, I worked with Connor.”
“I’m sorry, I don’t remember.”
“Oh, please. No apologies needed. You’ve been through so much.”
“Thank you.”
She looks back at the tombstone and says, “I should leave so you can have some private time with Connor.”
I don’t want her to leave, and I have no idea why. “Do you come here often?”
“I do. Connor is… I mean, Connor was great to work with. I miss him.”
“Do you have children?”
“A son. He’s eight months.”
“I love children.”
She looks at me oddly. “Really? Connor told me you both never wanted children.”
Wait? What? I love kids. I can feel it when I see them at the park, or in the grocery store. “The amnesia has me all messed up,” I admit. “I have no idea of the person I was prior to the accident, but this Ava I am now, loves children.”
She smiles and says, “I really need to go. Have a nice day, Ava.”
“You, too, Lorraine.”
I look down at the tombstone at the different species of flowers lying at the granite base. It looks like Connor had a lot of friends. Maybe I had him figured out wrong. Maybe the dreams are just a dream. What about the pictures, and the bruises on my skin? Pictures don’t lie.
I sit down and remain quiet. I’m not sure what to say; it’
s not like he can hear me anyway. I look through the flowers. Some have cards and a few don’t. I read the cards, but some of the writing is hard to make out. There’s a bouquet of calla lilies, and the card has fresh writing on it. I wonder if the person who left these is the same person who left the calla lilies at the accident site?
The card reads,
You are forever in my heart.
Looking around the cemetery, I suddenly feel like I’m reading something personal and private. Is this an invasion of his privacy? Can a wife invade her dead husband’s privacy? I repeat the words. “You are forever in my heart.” Amnesia or not, I know this is from someone who is more than a friend. Would a mother write something like this to her son?