Wagering Home

by C. M. Boers

  “But I don’t, I don’t have any expectations. None. I just want to be with you, and if you never remember what we had before, I’m okay with that.”

  “This relationship can’t work with the thought that maybe today I’ll get my memory back, or maybe tomorrow. The truth is, it may never come back, and without it, I’ve missed out on all the big things we’ve shared. I don’t want to play catch-up. And it’s not fair to you to always be in limbo.”

  “Please don’t do this.” He squeezed my hand as tears pooled in his eyes.

  “All the love you feel for me, every bit of it, I see it in your eyes. I know it’s there. I don’t want you to think you’ve done anything wrong.”

  “But I did. I didn’t avoid that accident.”

  I shook my head. “That wasn’t your fault.” I leaned over and hugged him as tight as I could from across the car. “Thank you for being there for me. Not just since the accident, but before too.”

  He held on to me for a while. His fingers dug into my back, squeezing me close. My eyes stung. When he finally pulled back for a split-second, I could see his face was tear-streaked just before he buried it in his sleeve. He sniffed, took a few breaths, and his emotion was gone.

  I had to give him credit for keeping the strong front. If he hadn’t, I was sure I’d have lost it.

  “Can we at least still go to dinner?”

  I smiled, nodding. “I’d like that.”

  Outside the car, Jeremy put out his elbow. I looped my arm through it, and inside we went.

  Once the commotion of being seated and ordering our drinks faded away, our table fell quiet amidst the chatter around us. I tried not to focus on it, letting my eyes roam around the room, watching each of the couples and families talk amongst themselves.

  “You know, we were best friends before we started dating,” Jeremy said.

  “Yeah?”

  “Since seventh grade. The first day of school, we met in one of our classes, I can’t even remember which one. When it was lunchtime, we both were wandering around the lunchroom when we found each other. Neither of us had anyone to sit with.”

  “So, we sat together.”

  He nodded. “I’d like to think we’re still best friends . . .”

  It wasn’t just a statement. He wanted to know where we stood now that I’d broken up with him.

  “I wouldn’t think of you as any less.” I reached across the table and put my hand on top of his.

  Somehow, now that I’d broken things off, I was more comfortable around him. I no longer worried I’d do something he didn’t expect. Now that we were just friends, there were no expectations. Not really anyway.

  He smiled, the dimple that always stood out indented on his cheek. “Does that mean I get to come and visit you?”

  “Of course. If you don’t, I’ll be mad.”

  “When are you leaving?”

  “Thursday.”

  “Wow.” He leaned back in his seat. “That soon.”

  I gave him a half-hearted grin.

  “I don’t see your parents liking that.”

  “And you’d be right.” I laughed. “Mom took it the worst, I think. She went to her room without a word, and I didn’t see her until dinner.”

  “Oh, man.”

  “She’s still not really talking to me if she doesn’t have to. Of course, it didn’t really help anything that I didn’t exactly tell her . . . She sort of found my packed moving boxes hidden in my closet.”

  His eyebrows rose. “And what did your dad say?”

  “He was better. He talked to me about it, but he’s upset because I’m doing it without his help . . . moneywise or insight.”

  “Your dad’s a proud man.”

  “Yeah, he’s stepped aside though. Not happily, but he has.”

  Jeremy nodded.

  I pushed my food around my plate, though Jeremy’s gaze remained focused on me.

  “Can I ask you something?” I asked.

  “Anything.”

  “Who is the girl in all the pictures with me? The one with the scar?”

  He smiled. “Emily. Your other best friend.”

  I pushed the mashed potatoes to one side of my plate and took a toddler-sized bite of them.

  “If she’s my best friend . . . why haven’t I seen her?”

  “Oh!” Jeremy shook his head, his mouth full, he gulped once and continued. “She’s studying abroad. Left the day after graduation. She won’t be back for another two weeks or so, I think.”

  “Oh.”

  “I doubt she even knows about the accident . . . she didn’t bring a phone, wanted to completely disconnect. No distractions.” He paused. “If she knew, she would have been back here and at your side before you even got out of the hospital. You should know that.”

  I nodded. It’s probably for the best. I’d be long gone before she got back.

  In the rearview mirror, my parents, whom I had no recollection of prior to just a few months ago, waved with tears in their eyes. Dad held on to Mom like she might fall over if he let go if even for a second. A twinge of guilt nagged at me, but I held no remorse leaving them behind.

  This was it. I was heading out on my own. I couldn’t say I would have planned things this way. Not even for a minute. But not having a real plan sort of excited me.

  Fourteen hours was a long time to drive, but for some reason, it seemed an easy task, at least for the moment. With a couple chocolate bars in the seat next to me and the radio blaring, I felt like I could do anything.

  I signaled my turn and got on the highway. I pushed the pedal to the floor and braced myself for the sharp acceleration.

  My phone rang. I pressed the Bluetooth button on my steering wheel.

  “Hello?”

  “Melanie?”

  “Yes?”

  “Oh good, I’m glad I got you. It’s Kerry Liz.”

  “Uh . . .” I drew a blank.

  “Your realtor,” she said.

  “Ooh. Sorry.”

  She giggled softly. “It’s fine. Are you still going to be able to make our appointment for those apartments tomorrow morning, ten a.m.?”

  “Yes, I’ll be there.”

  “Great. I added one to the list I think you might like. I’ll meet you at the Brown House Coffeeshop on Third.”

  “Okay.”

  “See you then.”

  My stomach did a flop, thinking about getting to see some possibilities for my future.

  * * *

  Late that night, I arrived at the hotel, sleepy, starving, and on edge. Something about being ravenous really got to me, though I hadn’t wanted to waste the time to stop and eat dinner.

  I rounded the valet pull through and handed the attendant my keys. A bellhop rushed to the car and took my overnight bag from my hand.

  “Anything else, Miss?” he asked.

  “No, that’s all.”

  I looked up at the resort and breathed in deep.

  “Miss?” The valet handed me a return slip and climbed into my car, then disappeared into the lot.

  “This way,” the bellhop said.

  “Name?” a woman with a ponytail asked at the counter.

  “Melanie Avery.” The bellhop waited beside me, his eyes on the wall behind me, as if he was trying to make it seem as though he wasn’t paying attention.

  The woman typed away at the keyboard. “Looks like you’ve been upgraded.”

  My eyebrows raised.

  I’d decided before coming here that nobody would know I came from money, so an upgrade was definitely not something I’d planned. Aside from getting me here and a place to stay, my trust fund would be staying in the bank. My last splurge had been to stay at this hotel. It was one of the more fancy ones in the area. Though I’d only booked a standard king room, I intended to use all the amenities, including a daily massage. That could help my mind relax, right? Once I got my own place, there would be no time for that between fixing up it up and getting a job.

  An upgr
ade though? Where did that put me? I’d be willing to bet it was compliments of my dad.

  The bellhop showed me to my room, carrying my bag. When he pushed open the door, my mouth almost dropped. I did my best to mask my surprise and slipped him a few dollars. As soon as the door shut, I ran through the room like a child, taking a running leap and landing on the bed. It was like landing on a huge, fluffy pillow.

  Thank you, Dad!

  The room service menu caught my eye on the nightstand. My stomach grumbled, and the corners of my mouth lifted. Food.

  It took only twenty minutes for my food to be brought up to my room. By then, I’d showered and thrown on my PJs. I stuffed myself in front of the TV until I couldn’t eat another bite. Then I climbed into the giant bed and made myself comfortable in all the fluff.

  The next morning, I plugged the name of the coffeehouse into my phone’s map and headed off to meet the realtor.

  She looked exactly like her picture on the website, with her perfect smile.

  “How was the drive in?” she asked.

  “Long.”

  She giggled. “I bet! Well, let’s go get you a place to live!”

  Immediately, I liked her bubbly and sweet disposition as she ushered me to her car.

  I knew the places she was showing me would be rough, but I didn’t realize how rough.

  “There’s one more left. The one I found just yesterday. It’s a house, and it’s a little more than you’d said your budget was, but I thought you might want to take a look anyway.”

  “Couldn’t hurt.” After what I’d seen today, I’d probably have to raise my budget anyway. Yuck. I didn’t mind a little fixing up here and there, but not those.

  “Great. It’s right down the street from the coffee shop we met at this morning.”

  “Perfect.”

  My mind kept turning over the dumps we’d looked at so far, with holes in the walls the size of me and floorboards showing through the worn carpet. Oh, and the smell—I didn’t even want to think about that smell in the last place. I was sure something must have died in there.

  By the time we made it to the last stop, I had little hope it would be what I was looking for. Maybe I should have taken my dad up on his offer. Maybe I still would.

  As if she sensed my discouragement, she patted my hand. “Don’t worry, I saved the best for last. I think you’re going to like this one.”

  Right off the bat, I knew I liked the neighborhood. I’d thought the same when I met her there that morning. The street was lined with small shops and businesses, including the cute little coffeehouse. At the end of the row of buildings sat one single house that hadn’t yet been converted.

  She unlocked the door and let me in first.

  “The bedroom is upstairs. Through there is the kitchen. Straight ahead is the combined dining room and living room. The bathroom is over there.” She pointed at a space next to a door that must be storage under the staircase.

  The floors were all real hardwood and gave it character unlike anything else could. Even though they looked grungy, a good cleaning and wax, I thought, would be all they needed to make them shine like new. The walls needed repairs and paint, bad. Some were even multiple colors, like someone had been trying to decide the best colors. None of them very pretty. But on the plus side, none of the holes were bigger than a pencil.

  After seeing the rest of the places, I hadn’t expected to fall in love with this one, but from the moment I stepped foot inside it, I knew this was the one. This was my house.

  The beautiful bay window in the bedroom overlooked the street, where I could watch people walk up and down, browsing the shops. Below the middle window was a small shelf built into the wall. A single book lay discarded on it.

  A Guide to Sewing.

  I set it back down and turned back to the realtor without a single question in my mind.

  “This is the one.”

  * * *

  Closing on my house took hardly any time at all since I had the cash in the bank. Part of me wished it had taken a little longer; hotel life was pretty nice. However, the other half of me was bursting with excitement of having my own space. A place to make my own.

  My hand shook as I held the key up to the lock. This was my new home. My fresh start. I pushed open the door of the darkened house and took a deep breath. My lungs spasmed, sputtering against the dust.

  I had a lot of work ahead of me to make this place perfect. For just a moment, I second-guessed my choice to move here.

  Was having someone you couldn’t remember standing over you all the time back at home really so bad?

  Yes. Yes, it was.

  Flipping on the light, I stepped inside and shut the door. My breathing was the only sound that filled the small one-bedroom house.

  I climbed the stairs to the second floor, where the bedroom was, and dropped the single box I carried on the floor, sending up a wave of dust. I sighed and flopped onto the bare mattress. Home.

  * * *

  It took only a week to get my new space cleaned and unpacked. The floors didn’t even need waxing—just a good cleaning, and they shined beautifully.

  I’d already settled into a comfortable day-to-day schedule. Wake up. Get ready. Head to the coffeehouse. Drink coffee and search for a job on my laptop. Go home. Work on the house. Eat dinner alone and go to bed. It was a bit lonely at times, but it worked for the time being. It gave my mind the peace I’d been craving.

  I’d already picked out the perfect color gray to paint the whole inside. It was light enough that the natural light complemented it, but dark enough to tell it wasn’t white.

  It took a lot of research online, countless how-to videos, and asking a million questions at the hardware store before I knew how to fix the things wrong with the walls. A little bit of caulking and hole putty, and they would be good as new. Most of the hardware store employees knew me by name already. I wasn’t sure if that was good or bad.

  It was two days into the second week of being here when I got a call for an interview. I was sitting at my favorite table in the coffeehouse. My hair was disheveled, and paint splattered my clothes. I wouldn’t be surprised if my face looked similar. I’d finished painting the living room late the night before, and showering didn’t seem as important since it wasn’t finished.

  I held my breath, listening, as I jotted all the details down, afraid I’d miss something they said.

  “I’ll be there,” I said. It came out much more enthusiastic than I’d hoped.

  I hung up, and a buzz of nerves took up residence in my stomach. This was the job I wanted most of the few I’d applied for. Assistant. Not a ton of responsibility, just something to start out with.

  I picked my phone back up and dialed Grace.

  “Tell me you met a boy,” Grace answered without a greeting.

  I sighed. “Do you think of nothing else?”

  “What else is there?”

  “Lots. The last thing I need right now is another boy in my life. I have one back home that I said goodbye to, and he was probably about as good as they come.”

  “That’s different, you don’t even remember him. That’s messy, even if he is really cute.”

  I shook my head. “I got an interview.”

  “Oh yeah?”

  “Yeah, and for the one I’d been hoping for.”

  “That’s big! The assistant’s job, right?”

  “Yeah, I’m so nervous. It’s hard looking for jobs when I don’t remember the experience I have aside from what I’ve been told.”

  “You’re going to get it. I know it.”

  I wished it were that simple. I thought over the questions they might ask: What makes you a good fit for this position? What would you say are your best qualities?

  How did one answer these questions when your furthest memory dated back only two months, when you woke up in the hospital?

  I sighed. “I hope so.”

  “How’s the new place coming?”

  “Good. It
’s…” I thought of the spotted walls, almost ready for paint, and the half-painted living room. I knew she’d turn up her nose if she knew. “…homey.”

  “Homey . . . okay. You just keep your eye out for an apartment for me. I’m coming, you wait and see.”

  I giggled. “Well, if I get this job, you have to come so we can celebrate. There’s a nightclub a couple buildings over from me, maybe we can go there.”

  The distant yet still too close rhythm of the bass beats gave my pictures a nice vibration, until the club closed at three a.m.

  “I’m in,” she said.

  “How’s therapy?”

  She groaned. “Why do ya gotta go there? We were having such a nice conversation.”

  “Sorry.”

  “Yeah, yeah. I should go. The dreaded thing you speak of is waiting. Call me after your interview tomorrow?”

  “I will.”

  “Bye.”

  I set the phone down on the table and smiled to myself as I let the excitement for tomorrow take over. Looking up from my coffee, I spotted a pair of green eyes watching me. The smile below them lit up his face, and he tipped his head.

  Nerves took over my stomach for an entirely new reason. I dropped my eyes to the table.

  Why was he staring at me?

  I looked a mess. Maybe that was it; he thought I might need help, because I looked crazy to be out in public like this.

  I glanced up again. He was really cute. My heart rate picked up. I don’t even know why. It wasn’t like I was searching for a boyfriend. In fact, that was the last thing I needed to add to my list right now. Who would want to get involved with someone without their memory anyway? Talk about complicated.

  His attention returned to me, and I looked back down at my laptop, pretending not to notice. My search for typical interview questions was on the screen. I wanted to be prepared, even if I didn’t have real answers for them.

  “Ahem.”

  My attention turned to the same gorgeous pair of eyes, attached to the man now standing over me.