by Karma Brown
“Or almost everything,” I added. “I don’t remember Matt. At least not my boyfriend Matt.”
Now her eyes widened, but I could tell she already knew. “You can drop the act. I know you know. Everyone knows by now, I’m sure.”
“Yeah, there has been some chatter,” she said. “But it will all die down, now that you’re back. Don’t worry. There’s plenty of gossip fodder around here. You’ll be old news soon.”
“Hope so,” I said, a frown settling on my face.
“I, for one, couldn’t care less about your relationship status. I’m just happy to have you back.”
“Thanks.” I smiled at her. “Especially for keeping things running smoothly while I was gone,” I said, and Brooke seemed pleased. I glanced at my computer screen. “And judging by my nearly empty inbox, plus all the calls you handled the past couple of months, I owe you a lot more than a thank-you.”
“You would have done the same for me,” she said with a shrug. “But there’s a Kate Spade bag I’ve been eyeing.” We laughed, and then she gave me a serious look. “But don’t do anything like that again, okay? We need you here. I need you here.”
“Don’t worry, I will always choose practicality over fashion from this point forward.” I stuck one of my legs out from behind my desk. “See? Flats.”
“Whoa. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in anything less than three inches,” she said, then narrowed her eyes comically. “Are you really Lucy Sparks?” She laughed but then slapped a hand to her mouth. “Oh, not cool. I’m sorry. God, I’m as bad as Mary.”
“Stop,” I said. “You are far worse than Mary.” Then I winked at her and she laughed, hard.
“Brooke, I’m used to it. I promise you. This is one of those situations where it’s hard to know what to say, so don’t stress.” I raised an eyebrow and glanced at the balloons, and we both laughed at the message.
“There was a flurry of emails about those balloons,” she said, still chuckling. “It was a tough race between Congratulations and Yay!”
“Well, Welcome Back would also have worked.” I gave her a wry smile.
“Damn it, you’re right,” she said. “See? That’s why you can’t go anywhere. We’re useless without you.”
I avoided running into Matt for almost two days and then I had to go to a client intake meeting on his floor, which meant passing right by his cubicle. I considered skipping the meeting (Brooke would be there regardless), but that wouldn’t be good for the rumor mill. I needed people to believe I was up to the task, which I was, for the most part. Sure, my emotional state was a land mine and my personal life a mess, but my coworkers didn’t need to know that.
Jameson Porter knew about Matt and me. Dating a coworker wasn’t against company policy, but you were required to disclose a personal relationship with another employee to human resources—which we had apparently done, according to Matt. So everyone at work knew Matt was my boyfriend, which was a strange thing because I still didn’t remember our relationship, aside from the memory of the rose petal bath from our first date. However, I doubted Matt had said anything about our current status, which could be best described as “it’s complicated.” We weren’t exactly broken up, more on a pause, but all of this meant I was dreading seeing him at work. It would be hard to pretend things were fine between us, and I was paranoid people would see right through the act.
But it was a Wednesday and so there was a decent chance Matt would be at the client’s today rather than in the office. He had stopped traveling after my accident and was assigned to a project with one of the downtown Toronto banks. I’d felt bad about this, knowing how hard it would be for him to pass the client he’d been working with for close to a year to another consultant, but he acted like it was no big deal. Said he had almost wrapped up the project, anyway, and was looking forward to sleeping in his own bed rather than hotels.
Having convinced myself Matt would surely be at the bank today, I walked by his cubicle with barely a glance as Brooke and I chatted about the client...and then ran directly into him as we rounded the corner near the meeting room. He had a full coffee in hand and it splashed onto the floor between us.
“Oh!” I said, taking a step back to try to right myself. Brooke, beside me, somehow managed to escape the coffee splash.
We all stood there for a moment, everyone a little stunned, and finally Brooke broke the spell. “I’ll grab some napkins,” she said, ducking into the nearby meeting room.
“Did any get on you?” Matt asked. Aside from a small splash on my shoes, most of the spilled coffee had ended up on the ground and already disappeared into the dark gray patterned carpet.
“I don’t think so.” I shifted my folder to the other arm, wiped a few drops of the coffee from my shoes thanks to the napkin Brooke handed me when she returned.
“Do you need one?” Brooke asked Matt, extending a couple of napkins his way.
“Thanks,” he said, taking them and first wiping his hands, then a splotch of coffee from his tie. It was then I realized it was the anniversary tie, the one I’d given him before everything went off the rails between us. My chest hurt to look at it, and the moment of uncomfortable silence stretched before Matt dropped his gaze. I also noticed he looked thinner—too thin—and thought back to my conversation with Alex, about what a “mess” Matt was thanks to my accident, my memory.
Brooke looked between us, then said to me, “Okay, well, I’ll see you in there?” I nodded and she walked into the meeting room, leaving Matt and me alone.
“Why aren’t you at the bank?” It came out somewhat accusatory, but he didn’t seem to notice.
“Oh, I was. But I have a meeting with Peter. I’m going back after.” Matt scowled briefly, though he quickly corrected his expression into one more neutral, and I wondered what was going on. Peter Cerelli, one of the senior partners, was well-known for working his associates harder than any other partner. Again, I thought back to what Alex had said, about Matt being pushed off the accelerated partner track because of me. For a moment I felt defensive—I never asked him to hand off his latest (and most challenging, he’d mentioned) oil and gas client—but then just as quickly I went from defensive to contrite. Consultants with oil and gas clients traveled nonstop—and like everyone had been reminding me, Matt was one of the “good” ones. He would never have spent so much time away while I was in such a fragile state and recuperating.
I wanted to thank him for giving this up for me, articulate how sorry I was to have screwed up his career (his life), too, but all I said was “Is everything okay?”
“Yeah, sure.” But he seemed distracted, and I knew there was plenty he wasn’t saying. “How are you? I mean, how are things being back at work?”
“Things are good,” I said, shifting the folder again more for something to do with my restless hands. I smiled. “Like riding a bike, right?”
Matt nodded, but he didn’t smile. “How about with your...you know, with everything?”
“With my memory?” I asked. “Quite nearly perfect. I haven’t forgotten a name or face or password yet.” I smiled again. And again, he didn’t return it. How cruel it was I remembered the less important things like my log-in password and that Mary was a gossip who drank peppermint tea with milk, but didn’t remember I had loved Matt. My smile dropped.
“I’m glad to hear it. I’ve been worried.” He cleared his throat, looked down at his mug, which was now wrapped in coffee-stained napkins. “I wasn’t sure if being back would make things worse.” I knew he wasn’t only referencing the work. He also meant the stress of what was going on between us. Shame coursed through me as I thought about that night, about kissing Daniel.
“So far, so good,” I said, looking for an exit because the guilt was making it hard for me to concentrate on anything else. “I guess I should probably get in there.” I gestured to the meeting room, and Matt nodded.
&n
bsp; “Sure thing. Okay, well, talk to you later.” I said goodbye, and then he stepped around me right as I tried to step around him, and with both of us moving in the same direction we bumped into one another again.
“Sorry. Again,” he said. “At least no coffee spill this time.” He smiled, but I could tell how hard it was for him to do it. Fix this, I thought. Fix it, Lucy.
“Listen, Matt,” I began, not entirely sure what I was about to say was a great idea. “Do you want to get a drink later? Like, after work?”
He stared at me, hope brightening his face temporarily. But then it was gone as quickly as it came. “Lucy, I would love to. But I can’t.”
“Oh. Okay.” I blushed, feeling foolish for even suggesting it. “I shouldn’t even have... No problem. Maybe another time.” I waved my hand in between us as if to erase the suggestion. What right did I have to ask so much of him? I would have turned me down, too, after everything.
He reached out to touch my arm. “No, I want to,” he said. “But I have to put in a long night at the bank. Rain check?”
“Of course,” I said. “Rain check.”
“Hope you have a good day,” he said, watching me as I walked backward a few steps, avoiding bumping into him for a third time.
“You, too.” I waved and ducked into the meeting room, just as Brooke finished setting up the room.
“I’d say that went perfectly fine,” she said, noting my pained expression.
I sat at the table and, with a groan, laid my head in my arms.
34
“How’s your first week going?” Daniel asked.
We were walking, take-out coffees in hand, through the University of Toronto’s campus. Spring had finally arrived; the trees sprouted leafy green, and the crocuses, daffodils and tulips pushed impatiently through the garden beds flanking the stone buildings. It was after work and Jenny was going to be late getting home and so I had nowhere to be, no one waiting on me. When I got Daniel’s text asking if I wanted to join him for some fresh air, I considered ignoring it—I was still confused about how I felt toward him—but ultimately I had some questions I wanted answered. Mainly about what happened between us, and why I ended our engagement four years earlier. I was done speculating and it was time to know the truth only he could give.
“It’s going okay,” I replied, shrugging my shoulders and tucking my chin into my soft turtleneck sweater. The sun had lost some of its daytime steam and the temperature was still cool as evening approached. I was distracted by the questions swirling in my mind and nervous being with Daniel, even though there was no reason to be. Matt and I were...not together right now. My feelings on that relationship were even more confusing than the ones I had about Daniel.
My workweek had been good—I remembered my colleagues, I was on top of my workload thanks to Brooke’s help and everyone seemed genuinely happy to have me back. Sure, I wasn’t as fast or efficient as I used to be, taking longer with tasks like writing memos and PR blasts I used to be able to do in my sleep.
But then I’d delivered a wrong—and time-sensitive—press release this morning to one of the senior partners, Greg Harlow. I had no clue how it happened, as I had triple-checked the file before I emailed it. But when Brooke told me Greg had called her (I was writing an urgent memo for one of the consultants and Brooke said she’d take my calls for the hour), wondering why the release was about one of our previous oil and gas clients rather than the new one we’d acquired, I’d been shocked to realize my mistake. At least it went to Greg first, Brooke had said, and I tried to hide how badly the whole mess had shaken my confidence.
I didn’t think it had anything to do with my memory issues, but I knew both Brooke and I were worried. “Don’t stress. I’ve got your back,” Brooke had said, a big smile on her face as she quickly found the correct release—the one I remembered writing but somehow had mixed up with the old release before hitting Send. “But maybe you should take a break for the afternoon, Lucy. It’s a lot, coming back and boarding a train already going full speed. I’m happy to cover things.”
“Thanks, but I’m good. I shouldn’t have switched to decaf this morning.” I had laughed to cover my anxiety and Brooke had kindly laughed with me, later bringing me a double shot of espresso with a smile.
“Lucy?” Daniel’s voice broke through my thoughts.
“Yeah? Sorry, what did you say?”
“What’s up?” Daniel asked, putting a hand on my arm and slowing us down. “I’ve mostly been talking to myself for the past five minutes. You okay?”
“Am I okay?” I punctuated each word, then sighed. And a moment later, inexplicably, started to laugh. Daniel watched me, the smile growing on his face mingling with confusion as he tried to catch up to what was so funny. Soon I was laughing so hard tears poured from my eyes and I had to cross my legs so I wouldn’t pee.
“Here, let’s sit.” Daniel led me over to a bench while I tried to catch my breath. “You know, you always did have the best laugh.”
“I don’t know about that,” I replied. “I snort in an incredibly unflattering way when I get going. It’s not my best feature.”
“Nah, I love it.” Daniel nudged his shoulder into mine and smiled. “It’s adorable.”
I smiled in response, then looked down at my hands, cupped around the take-out coffee cup. I felt awkward, Daniel having invoked our past while I struggled—still—to accept it wasn’t also my present.
Now or never. “Can I ask you a question?”
“Anything,” Daniel said.
“Why did we break up?” I asked, glancing his way. I wanted to watch his expression as he took in my question.
“Just going to jump right in, huh?” His face darkened briefly, but then he smiled to cover it.
I nodded but didn’t say anything else.
He sighed, turned toward me on the bench. “You don’t remember?”
I shook my head. “It’s locked away somewhere, but I have no idea if I’m ever going to remember. And I need to know, Daniel. I think...it might help with everything if I know what happened with us.”
“Okay, Lucy,” he said, nodding. “You dumped me.”
It felt so abrupt, his disclosure of the truth, that my heartbeat accelerated to the point I was certain he’d be able to hear it pounding in my chest. I wanted to blame the late-day caffeine for my jackrabbit heart rate, but I knew that had little to do with it. “What? But why? All I remember is being happy.”
“We were happy.”
“So what went wrong?” I asked.
His jaw clenched. “We wanted different things.”
“What does that even mean?” I said quietly, more to myself than him. I dug deeply into my mind, trying to pull up anything resembling a memory of that time. Tried to recall what these “different things” might have been, but there was nothing there to hang on to.
“It was a long time ago, Lucy.” I couldn’t read the expression on his face. “And look, here we are. Having coffee and reminiscing about your snort-laugh. So why does it even matter now?”
“I guess it doesn’t.” I felt dejected. If Daniel couldn’t give me the magic bullet answer, who could? But his words kept running through my mind. We wanted different things...
What had I wanted that was different from Daniel?
“You know, it’s been nice. Spending time with you again,” Daniel said. He went to say something else but then shook his head.
“What? What is it?” I asked.
“I’ve missed you.” He gave me a smile and a surge of warmth moved through me. “I miss you.”
“I miss you, too,” I replied, the confession sitting heavy between us. But as soon as I said it I wanted to pull back because it wasn’t right for us to be talking like this. He was married; I had a boyfriend. This wasn’t a fair game to be playing.
“I can’t believe it’s stil
l light outside,” I said when I could no longer handle the silence. “Must be spring, after all.” But Daniel wasn’t interested in my attempt to turn the conversation in a less charged direction.
“I haven’t said anything to Margot, about us hanging out,” he said. I tried to cover how discomfiting it was to hear her name. Not loving that now I had to consider her, admit my guilt her husband told me he missed me—present tense. “You know, we were always better suited, I think. You and me.”
At first I wasn’t sure what he meant. And then once the words settled over me, along with the meaning, I wasn’t sure what to do with them. Better suited than him and Margot? But if that was true, Daniel, why aren’t we together anymore?
“Don’t get me wrong,” he added quickly. “I love her. I do. And we have a great life together.” I nodded as if this wasn’t being disputed, feeling sick to my stomach. Why was I subjecting myself to this? “But, well, I miss you.”
Sometimes the things that used to make sense don’t make sense anymore.
I was more confused than ever. I didn’t know what to do with his admission, or how much importance to assign it. “Thanks,” I replied, knowing it wasn’t the right response but unable to think of anything more fitting.
“Thanks?” he said, chuckling. “That’s all you’ve got for me?”
I started laughing, too, and soon was snorting away. “Sorry,” I finally managed. “I didn’t know what else to say.”
“It’s cool. I get it,” Daniel said. “I probably shouldn’t have said anything. Not fair to you.”
“It’s okay. I’m glad you did.”
“You are?” He turned to me, closer this time, and for a moment I thought he might kiss me. He was so close now...it would have been easy. But he didn’t, then shifted to lean back against the bench, which moved his body farther from mine. I was both glad and disappointed.