Chapter 7
There was silence. "Well," Brian started out. "Well." He didn't know where to go from there. "You start." It was all he could think of.
She frowned. He looked at her, this complete stranger who was apparently his wife, and he felt helpless. Where would they go from here? He didn't know her at all. He just barely knew himself. She probably knew everything there was to know about him. And she didn't seem that happy to see him, so maybe it wasn't all good.
She shook her head. Her elbow was on the dressing table and she rested her forehead on her hand. She might have been on the verge of crying, or about to scream at him, but he couldn't tell. It didn't seem that she was preparing to embrace him. He just waited.
"Okay," she finally said. "This is very weird. You really don't remember anything?"
"Nothing. I was running in a park, this morning, and all of a sudden it was like I just sort of arrived, and I couldn't remember. Anything. I didn't know where I was or who I was. I still don't. Well, I know who I am. Edwards? Is that my name? I know I'm Brian. I got that from the ring too. So that's what I know. Our names. And that we're in Belmont, which I don't remember either. Nothing is familiar."
"How did you get here?" She indicated the woeful room, waving her hand.
"I went to the police. A woman in the park called them for me on her cell phone. And they hooked me up with a social worker who got this room for me." He reached in his jacket pocket. "And gave me coupons for food. I didn't have any money. How did you find me?"
"I called the police. At first I thought you were still at work. Or out on one of your mysterious errands."
I have mysterious errands?
"I got home from work late and started dinner. When you didn't show up I checked the voice mail. There were calls from the office all day, wanting to know where you were. Lou sounded upset because you missed some important meetings. But there was no message from you."
"Lou is my boss?"
"No, Andrea is your boss. Lou is her flunky." She looked at him, seeming to be puzzling it through, but still doubting. "You really don't remember? You don't remember work either?"
He spread his hands out in a helpless gesture, apologetically.
"Then I found your wallet and car keys on the dresser in your room, and I went out and looked in the garage and your car was there. That's when I knew you never came back from your run after I left this morning."
Why did she say "your room"? But everything else felt so strange he let the question slide by for the moment.
"I thought maybe you'd had a heart attack. Or got hit by a car. So I called the hospital but they gave me the runaround. Then I called the police. When I said your name was Brian they told me about a guy with amnesia, but at first I couldn't believe it was you. I don't know why. Maybe it was too weird a story to believe."
She looked at him accusingly, as if weird, unbelievable stories were his habit, and her automatic response was doubt. She was frowning through the telling, as if she were angry about his going missing. In spite of the fact he couldn't help it.
"They had your description and knew your name was Brian, and that you'd been running this morning, so I had to believe it. I went down to the police department and they brought me here."
"Did you turn off the stove?"
"What?"
"You said you'd started dinner. Did you turn off the stove?"
She flared up. "You are a crazy man! Of course I turned off the stove."
"Sorry, I was just following the story and it made me wonder. It was a missing piece." Why did he say that? Because missing pieces were all he had? He didn't want to make her mad. Madder.
Then he added, "I'm just trying to make some sense of this whole thing." Words were starting to seem pointless somehow. They sat there, both looking at the same spot on the floor between them.
After a few moments she looked up. "Do you want to go home?" She looked straight into his eyes, and he could see it was a serious question. As if there were any question about it for him. What, he would rather stay here?
"Yes, I want to go home. I want to see my home. Maybe it will help me remember."
"But you don't remember me."
"No, I don't. But can I say something?"
"What do you want to say? Go ahead." She stuck her chin out in a sort of challenge, or as if waiting for a blow.
"You're very beautiful. Really. I think I'm a lucky man, even if I can't remember."
And then she laughed. It was a rueful laugh, but it was real, and he was flooded with relief.
"You are definitely Brian," she said, "Even if you have lost your mind."
Clean Slate Page 7