Nora had held her close, her sigh deep and tinged with resignation.
“I want to be selfish. I want to tell you to stay here, but I think you need to go home,” Nora had said as her hand had roamed the bare skin of 4B’s back. Nora’s hands were never still and often said more to 4B than her words did. They’d been telling her all day, with their seeking touches and lingering holds, that she’d be taking Nora’s heart from Alaska when she left. She also knew she’d be leaving her own with Nora when she went.
“This feels like home to me,” 4B had said, sinking her face into the space beside Nora’s neck. The smell of Nora had given her peace.
“You might feel differently when you get there.”
“But, what if I don’t?” she’d sounded like a child, but she hadn’t cared.
“Then you can always come back here. All you have to do is call and I’ll even fly out to get you. Until then, we can talk on the phone.”
“Phone calls can’t give us this,” 4B had said, pressing tighter against Nora’s side. “I miss you already.”
“I’m right here,” said Nora, holding her tight. Desire had swelled between them then, at the smooth way their skin met, how their bodies merged so perfectly. It had made her ache. If she left, Nora’s arms wouldn’t be there when she needed them.
“Touch me, Nora. You’re the only thing that makes me feel real,” she’d said as she’d kissed Nora’s neck and had guided Nora’s hand between her legs. “I need you to make me feel real.”
Nora’s fingers slipped into her as they rolled over. With Nora above her, 4B opened up, letting Nora fill her, wanting all of her inside. Nora had been slow and tender, and 4B had watched her eyes as Nora touched her. More quickly than she’d expected, a great pressure tightened 4B’s center while Nora’s eyes bored into her. 4B rocked below Nora while the exquisite pulse built inside. 4B reached up and stroked the long muscle of Nora’s thigh. She slid her hand around and ran her fingers through the warm, wet folds between Nora’s legs. Nora shuddered then, but she didn’t lose the rhythm. 4B plunged into the slick heat and matched Nora’s pace. Their eyes remained locked on one another, and the pulses she’d discovered inside Nora matched the ones that originated inside of her, wrapping around Nora’s fingers. She spread her legs further, a silent request for more, and she arched beneath Nora, her breath hitched, and she felt herself begin to explode. Nora’s lips parted as a moan poured from her throat. And they came. Weakened by the storm, Nora’s knees slid to the side and 4B withdrew her fingers. When their centers touched, 4B grabbed Nora’s hips, pulling her closer, the soft heat sliding between them, and she soared to even higher places as another orgasm built. Nora’s hands were on either side of her head as her hips moved in time with 4B’s and another wave rushed between them, and then another. All the tension and unknowns that had filled them, creating this urgency, demanded to be released. And they’d flown with it. Allowed it to take them.
When the torrent of pleasure had started to subside, Nora had lowered herself to lie upon 4B, blanketing her with her warmth, their sweat and breaths combined, and still 4B hadn’t been able to get close enough. Nora’s mouth had moved against her throat and then her lips had been on her mouth. 4B had been crying then, and she’d thought maybe Nora had been, too. But she’d kept her eyes closed and had tried to lose herself in the kisses. As she’d drifted off to sleep, the memory of music floating through a forest wrapped around her.
Now, 4B was lying in her childhood bed, just twenty-four hours later, curled in a ball on her side, sore from missing Nora, and she felt like an outsider, disconnected. She remembered Nora playing the harmonica when they had been stranded on the ledge in the forest, and she tried to find the peace that listening had brought her when she was lost back then, too.
There was a certain familiarity in this house, with the people who called themselves her parents. She liked them. She felt safe with them. But she didn’t know them.
The flight from Juneau had been a blur. Her father had given her an over the counter sedative to help her deal with her anxiety over flying so she’d slept through most of it.
When they’d finally arrived home that night, she’d been so emotionally and mentally drained, she hadn’t been able to find the energy to ask the questions that had started to formulate in her mind. Did she still live with them? The room she stayed in, with its slightly juvenile décor, seemed like it may have been a childhood bedroom. Did she have a home of her own? Did she have siblings? Did she have a job? The question she didn’t want to ask—because she was afraid of the answer—was whether she had anyone special in her life. When her mother had left her in her room, she’d fallen upon the bed and lain there awake, unable to sleep. An ache filled her chest. She longed to roll over and feel Nora’s arms wrap around her protectively, pulling her snug against her side and into the warm, safe arc of her arm.
Time inched by, sleep still eluded her, and unable to shake the feeling of missing Nora, she sat up and swung her legs off the bed. Without turning on any lights, she navigated the long hallways and many rooms of her parents’ home, along the path to the kitchen to get a drink of water. Unerringly, she went to the right cupboard, took down a glass, and filled it with water from the dispenser built into the front of the refrigerator. As she leaned back against the counter behind her, it occurred to her that her last motions were done out of habit. If her subconscious knew who she had been, it was just a matter of time when her conscious mind would, as well. Her memory felt closer to her now, just out of reach. She didn’t know if that was a good thing or a bad thing.
She stared at the digital clock on the microwave and calculated the time difference. It was 2:00 AM in Cambridge, making it 10:00 PM in Juneau. Not too late, right? 4B thought. She had talked to Nora for a few minutes after the plane had arrived in Massachusetts, while she’d waited at baggage claim, but her parents had been right there and there were too many words between them to ever be done talking. God, she missed her.
A small sound from the deeper shadows at the end of the counter made her turn, and she started when she realized her mother was sitting on a barstool just a few feet away. She had probably been there the whole time.
“I didn’t see you there,” she said moving across the kitchen to lean against the counter standing between them. In the dim light, her mother looked younger with her hair slightly mussed and without her makeup. Until now, she hadn’t seen her with a single hair out of place, even when she’d been crying at the airport, or after the lengthy flights to and from Juneau. Now, sitting before her in a cotton nightgown, the woman seemed softer, more relaxed, still beautiful. Affection stirred within 4B.
“Sorry. I tried not to scare you,” said her mother over the rim of the mug she was holding. “I almost said something when you came in. I watched you navigate like you remembered,” said her mother with a hopeful tone. “Do you?”
She was trying so hard, even though she seemed to be at a loss for how to cope with a daughter who didn’t know her. 4B wanted to please her. But she didn’t want to lie to her.
“Sorry. Not really. I’m not sure how I knew where the glasses were. I just did.”
“It’s a start, I suppose.” Her mother lifted her mug and sighed. “I was just finishing some tea.”
“Chamomile. You always drink it when you can’t sleep,” said 4B, and then realized what she had said. Another thing she didn’t know how she know, but she did.
Her mother smiled. “You’re right. It’s the only thing that seems to help.”
“I wish I could recall more. I feel like I’m being… disloyal to you and dad, not remembering,” admitted 4B. She’d felt them watch her, skewering her with their expectant looks, here in this strange house, waiting for a sign indicating their daughter was whole once again.
“Oh, honey. I don’t blame you for it. Neither of us do. We have faith your memory will come back soon.”
“I hope so. I feel so… adrift.”
“Adrift. That’s an
interesting word. If I may say so, I think you were feeling adrift before, though. I’m sure the memory loss is exacerbating it.”
“You mean before the accident?” asked 4B. It was frustrating that other people knew who she was but she didn’t. It made her feel less tangible, not knowing who she was, whether what she felt was even real.
“I don’t know. I shouldn’t have said anything. You never told me you were feeling that way. I just had a feeling. And maybe I was reading into it, but the last couple of times we spoke, you seemed distant, very thoughtful. I was going to mention it the next time we talked, but then, well, there wasn’t a next time. And now…” Her mother shook her head, indicating she wished she could take it back. “I shouldn’t have said anything right now.”
4B didn’t know what to say. Feelings drifted through her, among them, ones of confusion, frustration, even anger, but she didn’t know why. She had no context in which to apply them, so she stood there with feelings she didn’t know how to manage. It made her miss Nora even more and she wanted to cry.
“Do you want a cookie?” Her mother’s voice broke through her confusion, easing the tightness squeezing her chest.
“Chocolate chip?”
“With walnuts.”
“Is there any other kind?” they asked at the same time.
Her mother smiled, pulling the cookie jar from the middle of the counter and taking two large cookies out of it.
“Mmm… homemade,” sighed 4B taking one.
“Miriam baked them when we were on our way back from Alaska,” said her mother, as she took another glass out of the cupboard and poured some milk into 4B’s empty water glass. She then poured some for herself.
“Who’s Miriam? You mentioned her another time, when we were still in Juneau.”
“Sorry. I keep forgetting you don’t remember everything,” said her mother.
Anything, thought 4B, but there was no need to say it. Her mother and father were still coming to terms with her amnesia and there was no need to press it.
“Miriam is our house manager. She’s really much more than that, though. She’s been with us since before you were born. Her mother lived with my parents until she retired, and Miriam has been with us running the roost, as she likes to call it, since she finished her degree in hospitality management. She so very much wanted to be here when you arrived, but she had to be at her mother’s convalescent home tonight. She’ll be here tomorrow, though. She can’t wait to see you. These cookies are her specialty and a special homecoming gift from her because she knows you love them.”
4B tried to pull up a Miriam in her memory. Still nothing. Maybe a little flare of warm feelings, but nothing solid.
“I smelled them when we walked in,” said 4B, taking a bite of cookie and then a sip of milk. A sense of security washed over her.
“I’ll be honest. They say that smell is the most powerful sense connected to memory. You’ve always loved fresh baked chocolate chip cookies, so we thought...” Her mother’s voice trailed off as she finished with a shrug.
“The olfactory receptors are part of the limbic system, which controls our emotions and the formation of our memories,” said 4B, and then she looked up. “I have no idea how I know that.”
“No?” Her mother looked like she wanted to say more, but she didn’t.
“I know all this stuff, but I don’t remember how I know it. Is it common knowledge? Educated knowledge?” 4B sighed. “Who am I?”
Her mother placed her glass on the counter. “Dr. Warren advised us not to do it unless you asked, but, she said it might help to tell you some stories when you’re ready. Provide you with some details about what you’ve done in the past. Do you want me to tell you some stories to see if it helps?”
“You spoke to Dr. Warren?”
“This afternoon during the last layover. Her name was in the paperwork you gave us to look over. I gave her a call to see if there was anything I could do to help you through this. She’s a good doctor and very concerned about you. She was very protective and wouldn’t tell me anything about you I didn’t already tell her first, even when I told her who I was. I hate throwing the Senator title around, but even that didn’t work. Regulations, and all. But she did explain some ways to help with your amnesia.”
“Like what?”
“She said a little storytelling might be a good way to nudge things along, although she advised us to be careful not to plant memories, so much as to ask about familiar things.”
“What does that mean?”
“Well, she said memory was a tricky thing. That you have no short-term memory loss is a good sign. But there is a chance just by telling you things, you might try to synthesize the stories we tell into false memories, just because you want to remember.”
“That makes sense. Why don’t you start with facts? Like do I have brothers or sisters? Do I have a job?” 4B stopped short of asking about whether she was romantically involved with anyone. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know just yet. Another sharp pang of missing Nora passed through her.
“Okay…” said her mother, looking like she was trying to figure out what to tell her first. “You’re our only child. You grew up here, in this house. You love horses and rowing—you lettered in it in high school and were on your college rowing team. Your favorite color is blue. You just graduated from med school at Johns Hopkins University.”
“That explains some things,” mumbled 4B noting the medical knowledge that seemed to come to her when needed.
“With honors,” added her mother with a proud smile, making 4B feel special. “After which you went down to Guatemala, like you do every summer, to do the immunizations. Except this year Layce couldn’t go with you, what with the baby, and all.”
“Layce?” Something pulled at her at the mention of the name.
“Layce is your best friend. You’ve known her since childhood. That’s why you went to Los Angeles. To meet Layce and Andy’s new baby. Andy is Layce’s wife.” Her mother looked at her as if she was looking for a reaction and 4B shrugged her shoulders to tell her none of it was ringing any bells. “You came back from Guatemala, packed up your apartment in Baltimore, and flew out to L.A. You were supposed to come back here for a quick visit before you went back to Baltimore to start your residency next week. The two times I talked to you—right after you got back from Guatemala and right before you flew out to L.A.—you sounded a little distracted. Like you had a lot on your mind. That’s where I picked up on the ‘adrift’ thing.” Her mother paused as if 4B might have additional information, but 4B didn’t have anything to add, so her mother continued. “You go to South America every year with the med school to give inoculations. You went this year, like usual, and when you came back, you were supposed to go down and pick up the stuff you’d already packed at the apartment, so you could move into an apartment closer to the university hospital where you are scheduled to start your residency.” Her mother studied her for a few seconds. “But I guess it’s all up in the air now.”
“I start a residency next week?” 4B had only an abstract idea of what that would entail, but even as her mother told her about it, it didn’t seem like it had anything to do with her.
“If you’d like, I can take care of it when I go back to Washington for next week’s session. Put things on hold for a little while until things… settle down. I can make a quick trip to Baltimore and explain things.” Her mother’s voice trailed off and 4B could almost feel her mother’s eyes on her as she searched her face.
“That would be great. I don’t even know where to begin dealing with all of that. None of this sounds familiar,” said 4B, though a small amount of what she could only attribute to anxiety started to tighten in her chest at the information. She was getting used to not recognizing anything that she was supposed to know, but the ache accompanying the anxiety was new. She wondered if it had to do with not being able to fulfill the plans she had made, or if it was something else.
Roslyn paused and studied her
daughter.
“I’m not sure if I should mention this next thing...”
“I guess I need to know everything,” said 4B with a sigh.
“Well, this one is big. Dr. Warren said to try and ease you back into things. Not to overwhelm you. I had hoped this part would come to you on its own, being in a familiar place, but since you’re still trying to remember me and your father…” her mother paused. “Do you remember Kev at all?” asked her mother, watching her intently. 4B searched her empty memory and shook her head. “He’s in some of the pictures in your room.”
4B had looked at the small grouping of photos displayed in her room, on her dresser, in various frames. Aside from her parents, she didn’t recognize any of the people in them. They were all from a few years ago, based on how young she looked in the ones she was in. The absence of recent photos in the display confirmed for her that she hadn’t lived at home with her parents in a few years. She shook her head.
“Are you going to say I’m married, or something?”
Her mother smiled.
“Soon, I hope, but currently you’re engaged.” 4B’s stomach knotted up. Engaged? Her mother watched her face. Aside from the tightening in her belly, she had no other reaction, no flood of memories, no connection to the news. Kev was one of the names she’d seen as a missed call on her phone, along with some from Layce and a few others. Now she was glad she hadn’t listened to the messages yet. She wanted to have a better handle on things before she did that. “He wanted to go with us to Alaska, but he’s in the middle of a trial. It destroyed him to stay in Dallas. By the way, he’s as mystified as we are about why you were in Alaska. I’ve spoken to him several times and he’s anxious to see you. He was ready to abandon the trial and jump on the next flight out, but your father convinced him it might be better to stick out the trial. At least for now.”
Chasing Mercury Page 25