by Karma Brown
“That’s great,” I said. “For you. Less so for your dad, I guess.” I wondered if I should let the driver go, catch another cab later. I wanted to talk to Daniel all night.
“So how about you?” he asked, nudging my arm with his. A shock rang through me, which I mostly hid by shoving my hands into my coat pockets. “What have you been up to?”
There was an intense moment of disappointment that came with his question, because it confirmed what I knew to be true but had been struggling to believe—Daniel London had no idea what I’d been up to because Daniel London was not my husband. After a short pause to collect myself I filled him in on work, using only as many words as needed. I didn’t trust myself not to blurt out what was really going on. But if my discomfort and angst showed, Daniel didn’t seem to pick up on it.
“Jameson Porter is a great firm,” he said. “Have a buddy from high school who works there. That’s actually why I’m here tonight. It’s his birthday.”
“Jake Anderson?” I said. “That’s why we’re—I’m here. For Jake’s party.”
“Really? Small world, isn’t it?”
“It is,” I murmured. I fought to maintain my composure; all this small talk wasn’t helping. “I guess I should get going.”
“Ah, too bad you’re on your way out. It would have been great to have a drink.”
“Yeah, I know. But I have this...other thing to get to tonight,” I said. “It was great to see you, Daniel.” He had no idea how great. Or how confusing.
“You, too, Lucy.” He leaned over and gave me a kiss on the cheek and it was all I could do not to turn and kiss him back. His lips were cool and his facial hair felt strange on my skin, but everything else about him felt right. Familiar. I pulled back, though it took everything in me to do so, and smiled to hide the tornado of emotions. Daniel reached around me and opened the taxi’s door wider, and then he stepped to the side so I could get in.
“Thanks,” I said, glad to finally be sitting. My legs were like wet noodles.
He shut the door and rested his hands on the window well and it was then I saw it—his wedding band, glittering gold under the streetlight. My stomach lurched, tickling my gag reflex and bringing the drink I’d guzzled dangerously close to coming back up. God, please let me not throw up in this cab in front of Daniel.
“Listen, do you want to get a coffee sometime?” I asked. I had planned to say goodbye and not look back, but I wasn’t ready to have things end so abruptly. “So we can catch up?”
He paused for a beat, a curious look on his face. “Didn’t we already do that?”
My stomach dropped, and if I could have crawled under the taxi’s front seat, I would have. I wished I could reach into the space between us and grab my words and shove them back inside my mouth.
“Totally kidding,” he said, smiling that smile I knew so well. The one I’d fallen for all those years ago. “Coffee would be great.”
I plastered a wobbly smile on my face, my insides tingling at the prospect of spending more time with Daniel. Then Matt’s face popped into my mind and I considered how he would feel about this exchange. If roles were reversed—and knowing how I felt about Daniel—I definitely wouldn’t be happy about it. I silently berated myself for being so weak, for not doing what I knew was the right thing and staying away from Daniel London. It was a fluke we’d run into each other and I should never have turned it into something more.
Sadness settled over me, because Daniel was right here—somehow, right here—but he wasn’t mine to want, or to miss. Nor should I be planning a seemingly innocent catch-up coffee with him, because I knew it was much more than that. And Matt—the good man I’d run out on in the bar—was mine, but unfortunately he wasn’t the one I desperately wanted to be with right now.
I trembled as I imagined what might have happened if I hadn’t left the bar when I did. If Matt had been beside me when I ran into Daniel. I wasn’t sure I could have hidden what seeing Daniel had done to me, unraveling me like a sweater pull, leaving me vulnerable and exposed.
Daniel reached into his back pocket and pulled out his phone. “What’s your number?” he asked, and I gave it to him without hesitation. “Okay, well, I better get in there. And you need to go to your thing,” he said. “But it was great running into you, Lucy.”
“You, too, Daniel.” You have no idea how great. “Have fun tonight.”
He tapped on the edge of the window well with both hands and waved as the driver pulled away. I let out a long breath, put a hand over my mouth and focused on not vomiting all over the cab’s interior.
“You okay back there?” the driver asked, eyeing me suspiciously in the rearview mirror. “There’s an extra fee if you get sick, so tell me before you do so I can pull over.”
I took my hand away. “I’m fine,” I said, and he nodded, turning the music up.
While I hadn’t planned any of this, I knew it had been a mistake to give Daniel my number. It would be best for everyone if he deleted it later tonight, when he got home and into bed with Margot and realized reconnecting with your ex for a friendly coffee was never a smart idea. And yet...as the cold wind whipped through the taxi’s open window I whispered a small prayer Daniel wouldn’t delete my number but would call me for that coffee instead.
16
I didn’t tell anyone about Daniel, convincing myself it was because it didn’t matter; seeing him changed nothing. I’d also decided I wouldn’t have coffee with him, even if he called. Which wasn’t likely. We had run into each other outside a bar—it was bound to happen at some point, wasn’t it?—and it had been the polite way to end our conversation. That was all it was, nothing more. This ran in a loop in my head for two days, and I had nearly convinced myself Daniel London would stay in the past, where he belonged. And then he called.
It was Monday and Matt had been apologizing nonstop since Sunday morning. He arrived home less than an hour after I did the night of Jake’s party, and though it was dark, I could see his silhouette framed in our bedroom doorway. I knew he was debating where to sleep. I wondered what it had been like when we’d fought before, which we inevitably had at least a few times through our relationship, and what happened next. It was bizarre not to remember these intimate rhythms between us.
I let Matt stand there in the doorway a moment longer, then sat up and turned down the duvet on his side. “Come to bed,” I said.
He stayed where he was. “I’m sorry, Lucy.”
“I know.” I patted his side of the bed and rolled back over, tucking the duvet around me. “Let’s go to sleep.”
We didn’t talk about what happened, our argument at the bar or the fact he’d let it slip to Jake about my memory. But he continued to apologize, at unexpected times: like after I asked him if he wanted grilled cheese or a turkey sandwich for lunch on Sunday; or when I was brushing my teeth before bed; and Monday morning as he stood at the front door, helmet on and messenger bag slung over his suited shoulder, ready to go to the office. And with each apology I felt worse about giving Daniel my number. I was with Matt, because at some point in my past I still couldn’t remember I had chosen Matt.
He finally left for work, thankfully taking his incessant apologies with him. Glad to have the house to myself, I pulled out the memory confidence list I’d been neglecting. I had an appointment with Dr. Kay in the afternoon and so couldn’t put off my “homework” any longer.
What’s my favorite food? Bacon, chocolate croissants, pancakes *note: eat more vegetables
Where did I go to university? University of Toronto
What was my major? Psychology and English, double major
When is my birthday? November 10
Who’s the prime minister of Canada? Justin Trudeau
Who’s the premier of Ontario? Kathleen Wynne
Who’s the president of the United States? Donald Trump
Whe
re did I take my last vacation? Who with? California, Matt
Where do I live? Toronto (Leslieville)
Where do I work? Jameson Porter Consulting, communications director
How long have I worked there? Four years
Do I exercise? I’m a runner!
Do I have any allergies? Not sure—ask Mom and Dad
Who was my childhood best friend? Nancy McPherson
Have I ever had a pet? Yes, as a kid. Rabbit—Marshmallow
What are my current hobbies? Ask Matt and Jenny
Favorite restaurant? Ask Matt or Jenny
Did I watch Forks and Over Knives? Yes
Am I a vegetarian? No (because, bacon) *Jenny is vegetarian
Favorite TV show?
I had no idea what my favorite show was. I remembered watching Mad Men with Daniel and Breaking Bad with Jenny, but I couldn’t recall how either of those shows ended (were they still running?) or what shows Matt and I had watched together. I was still on the no-screens protocol, but a quick Netflix history check couldn’t be a big deal...
I turned on the television as my phone rang. Glancing at the screen, I saw an unknown, though local, number. For all the hoping I’d done over the past few weeks and the fact I’d given him my number a couple of days earlier, it actually didn’t occur to me it might be Daniel.
But it was, and he was wondering, Was I free for coffee? He had some time between classes and would love to see me. “To catch up,” he added. I thought back to his Didn’t we already do that? comment and cringed. But—perhaps too enthusiastically—I said I’d be happy to meet him, and he suggested Moonbean Coffee Company in Kensington Market, close to campus.
* * *
I arrived at Moonbean early and ordered a giant latte in a bowl before finding a table by the window, under the navy blue ceiling. Daniel arrived right on time, and my heart lurched when I saw him walk through the front door. There were still parts of him that felt alien—the facial hair, the fine lines across his forehead and fanning out from his eyes, the slightly unkempt look to his longer hair—but overall he was still the same Daniel.
This was a huge mistake.
Because no matter how hard I’d been working to let him go, to focus on my life with Matt, Daniel was comforting to me in a deeply significant way. I was scared by the weight of my longing when I saw him walk through Moonbean’s door, and the desire to have him recognize me in the same way.
My face must have displayed this convoluted mix of emotions, because the smile dropped from his face and he quickly sat across from me before even ordering anything at the counter. “Hey, are you okay?” he asked, removing his gloves and unzipping his coat without taking his eyes off me. I was mortified when I started crying.
Daniel took my hands in his and I stared at his ring, the tears dripping down my nose and onto the tabletop. “Lucy, what the hell’s the matter? Hey. Hey, what’s wrong?”
I shook my head, tried to speak but couldn’t. Oh, how I wanted to run out of there. Either that or to reverse time so I could avoid this scene entirely. But there was nowhere to flee. And besides, this was Daniel; he knew me. I would be okay with him, even with my mess of a life on full display.
He let go of one of my hands and passed me a napkin from the table. I took a deep breath, getting ahold of myself. “I’m so sorry. This is... Well, embarrassing doesn’t quite cover it.” I gave him a weak smile, wondered how blotchy my face was.
He smiled, squeezed my hand. “I’ll try not to take it too personally.”
“Can I get you a coffee? Something to eat?” I asked, rising from my chair, wanting to put some distance between my outburst and whatever came next.
Daniel rose, too. “I’ll get it. Want anything else?”
“I’m fine with the latte, thanks,” I said, then looked out the window as he went to the counter to order. It had started to rain, and people hurried by under umbrellas, walking around small puddles gathering on the sidewalks.
“So, are you going to tell me what’s going on or should we make small talk for a while until you’re ready?” Daniel asked, settling back into his chair with his coffee and omelet sandwich.
“Honestly, I don’t even know where to start. Things are a bit screwed up at the moment.”
“I’m getting that. How about at the beginning?” Daniel replied, stirring two sugar packs into his cream-heavy coffee. He tapped the spoon twice on the edge of his mug (a memory flash, Daniel always doing this after stirring his coffee) and waited for me to tell him why I’d burst into tears.
And so I did. About the slip and fall, the coma and head injury, about how when I woke up in the hospital my memory wasn’t what it used to be.
“Shit, Lucy, that’s intense. But I’m glad you’re okay. Or mostly okay,” he said. He hadn’t yet touched his sandwich, which had to be cold by now. “What exactly does ‘spotty’ mean?”
“Your lunch is getting cold,” I said, searching for a distraction. Unloading the events of the past two months was cathartic, but it also left me feeling split wide-open and close to tears again.
“Is it amnesia?” he asked, his forehead wrinkling with the question.
“Sort of,” I said. I suppose I could have left it at that. But then I decided I had come this far, and as Dr. Kay was fond of saying, I needed to “be true to the experience.” Skirting the realities of the situation wouldn’t help me. And if I was being honest, I was curious to see what his reaction would be.
“I’ve forgotten some stuff entirely, from the past few years in particular. Like the actual accident, for one.” I didn’t mention it extended far beyond the day of my fall. Or about Matt. That was too big of a parcel to unload right now.
“But I also have these, uh, false memories.”
“False memories?”
“I have a few memories that aren’t real, but they feel superreal to me.”
“Wow,” he said, leaning forward, sandwich hanging from his hand. “All from hitting your head?” I nodded, sipped my lukewarm latte. “Like what sort of memories?”
“Well, I remember switching to vegetarianism. But apparently it never happened.”
“You? A vegetarian?” Daniel laughed.
“I know, right?” I sighed, ran my finger around the lip of my latte bowl, a small amount of the foam transferring to my finger. “Apparently brains don’t like blank spaces. So when I was in the coma and not making new memories, my brain decided to stitch some things together and voilà. Customized, fake memories.” I shook my head, realizing how strange it all sounded once I said it out loud. “I told you, it’s screwed up.”
Daniel nodded. “You’re not kidding. How have you been dealing with everything?”
I shrugged. “I’m not? I mean, I’m trying. I haven’t been cleared to go back to work yet, and I’m still screen free. It’s a postconcussion thing,” I explained. “But I am seeing a therapist—right after this actually—who’s helping me with my ‘memory confidence.’” I put air quotes around the last two words. “Here’s hoping that helps.”
“I hope so,” Daniel said.
“Me, too.”
“How’s your family doing?” he asked. “With the memory stuff?”
“It’s been tough on them obviously, but they’ve been there for me. However, I was beginning to think my mom might move into our place permanently. Force me to drink tea 24/7. You know how she is with her tea.”
“I do remember that,” Daniel said, laughing again. He had drunk many cups of tea with my mom while we were together, even though he hated the taste of it. “So, ‘our place’...you live with someone?” He watched me without reproach, innocently interested.
“I do. Matt. He’s been great, amazing actually.” I flushed, felt terrible for being here with Daniel even though it was only a coffee. Because I knew Matt wouldn’t want me here. And he would be hurt by how m
uch I was sharing with Daniel, whom I had opened up to more in the span of thirty minutes than I had in weeks with Matt. That didn’t say good things.
“I’m glad to hear it.”
“Thanks,” I replied, smiling as best I could. Then I thought about Margot, the other part of this equation, and my heart sped up. I felt hot and flustered, and before I could stop myself, I blurted out, “I heard you and Margot got married.”
“We did,” Daniel said, leaning back in his chair. “Two years ago, tomorrow actually.”
“Happy almost-anniversary.” I hoped I sounded genuine. “And please say hi to her for me.”
“Thanks. I will.” Daniel looked at his plate, fiddled with his fork and cleared his throat. He chewed the edge of his lip the way he used to when he had something to say he knew I probably didn’t want to hear, and I regretted bringing up Margot. But I still had so many questions only he could answer. What happened with us, Daniel? And how in the hell did you and Margot end up together? He’d once commented he wouldn’t be surprised if she never married—far too independent to compromise for a relationship. So how are you with her, and not me?
However, asking those questions would mean admitting exactly what I remembered, and what I didn’t. Not to mention being wildly inappropriate for a quick visit with a guy I hadn’t talked to in years, and who owed me no such answers.
“Where are you living now?” he asked a moment later, thankfully changing the subject into less emotional territory.
“In Leslieville. What about you?”
“Not too far from you actually. A block south of Danforth. Right across from Withrow Park.”
“Nice spot.” Withrow Park had a big tobogganing hill, packed with sleds and gaggles of kids most winter weekends. It was the perfect neighborhood to settle and start a family and I tried not to think about him and Margot one day holding hands as they watched their kids sled that hill.