Billy hobbled toward his mum, and I hardened my expression. But it was too late. He saw my tear-filled eyes.
‘Mum,’ he said stiffly, ‘I told you not to visit when’—but he switched languages then, though I imagined what he was saying.
Don’t come over when the weird amnesia bird is here.
They spoke in a language I didn’t recognize, but Mum was obviously being told to leave, and she clearly wasn’t happy about it.
When they were done arguing, she gave me a sympathetic look. ‘I will pray for you tonight, Lucy.’
My shoulders crumpled when she left. I didn’t want her to go. She was exactly like Lillian, everything about her radiated sincerity.
I caught Billy’s eyes as he headed back to the kitchen, and there was something about his gaze that made me need to catch my breath. It seemed … gentler than usual.
Lillian hurried toward me. ‘Sorry about that. Mum doesn’t have a filter, and she would dip everyone in holy water if given a chance.’
I would’ve told Lillian that I didn’t mind, but my throat was too swollen with emotion to reply.
‘How about we have that chat now?’ Lillian asked, and I nodded.
We sat on my bed with the door closed. A handbag rested on the ground against Lillian’s leg, a pale-yellow folder peeking out the top of the open zipper. I stared at the folder, hoping it contained information that answered every question I had about myself.
Lillian cupped her hands across her lap and offered the same reassuring smile she always gave me. Her long wavy hair was clipped back, highlighting her wide eyes and glowing cheeks. I glimpsed myself in the mirror and sighed at my pale skin and flat black bob. My blond regrowth was hideous.
‘Have you been okay?’ she asked, her tone warm with sincerity.
‘Fine. Thank you.’
She contemplated me, then bit her bottom lip. ‘How have things been with Billy?’
Thump. Thu—mp—mp.
‘Fine.’ Another lie.
‘Have you been drawing much?’
‘How did you know that I draw?’
‘The first time I met you in the hospital, you were trying to sketch something on a napkin with a crayon. I figured you’d appreciate a drawing pad with quality pencils, so I got you some. You’re very talented.’
Heat flushed my neck. ‘When did you see my work?’
‘One morning, when we sat together in the hospital garden. You went into the garden every day to draw. You always sat in the same spot and looked through the same window. I realized you were sketching one particular physiotherapist. When I asked why, you replied, “because he’s beautiful”.’
I gave her a reserved smile, suddenly self-conscious. ‘I appreciate beautiful things.’
‘There’s absolutely nothing wrong with that.’ Her gaze drifted over my new black jeans and tee, and a curious grin crept across her face. ‘Can I just say, this outfit really suits you?’
I looked down at my new clothes. It had been exciting for a moment when Billy had suggested he get these for me. But now, it felt like I owed him so much more than I already did.
‘Billy took me to that clothing store not far from Gabby’s café. He bought these for me.’
Her grin shifted to a subtle smile. ‘He did? Well, you look great.’
I studied the folder peeking out the top of her handbag. ‘Lillian, can you please tell me everything you know about me? Where I got hit, the police investigation … everything?’
She scratched her brow and nodded thoughtfully. ‘You were crossing the road from Railway Square. A drugged driver ran a red light and hit you, sending you flying into the side of a bus. You were in an induced coma for one week, and when you came out, you were confused, which is normal. But as time progressed, it became apparent that you couldn’t recall any details about yourself.’
Her gaze fell away briefly. When she looked back at me, I knew she was hesitant to continue. ‘I got called in when a week had passed and no one had come forward to identify you. By that point, the police had already started an investigation. They interviewed all the staff at Central Station. One train driver said you were seeking the nearest police station.’
My ears pricked. ‘A police station?’
She nodded.
Why in the world would I have been looking for a police station?
Lillian’s eyes drifted toward my left wrist, and I turned my arm over so my scars were hidden against my body. I didn’t want to imagine what she was thinking—a girl with scars on her wrist, carrying no identification and in search of a police station …
What had Lillian said to me at the hospital? That she worked with young people deemed to be at risk?
Was it any wonder she didn’t let me go into the streets?
‘On another note,’ she said, suddenly brighter. ‘I made an appointment for you at the hospital for this Wednesday. With a cardiologist.’
She pulled a sheet of paper from her handbag and handed it to me. I read the barely legible handwriting—nine-thirty appointment with Dr. Smythe for patient named: woman aged 18-24.
I’d half expected to see the name Lucy.
‘Thanks, I’ll deal with this,’ I said.
‘I don’t expect you to go to this appointment on your own. I’ll pick you up and take you.’
‘You don’t need to do that. I’ve got this.’
A wave of panic settled over her face, and her voice rose in pitch. ‘This appointment is really important. The doctors did a basic examination of your heart and found—’
‘It’s fine. I’ll sort it out.’
‘Without adequate treatment—’
I laughed, and Lillian stopped, confusion creasing her forehead.
‘You shouldn’t worry so much about others,’ I said.
She shook her head. ‘You’ve been around Billy too long already. I’ve never understood why people say that. I worry as much as I do because I care. I especially care about people who are finding it hard to or struggle to care for themselves.’
I had no response to that. Instead, I stared at her blankly, and something I’d overheard Billy say when I first arrived popped into my head.
‘Lillian, who’s Jade?’
The color drained from her face, making her look almost as pale as me. ‘Has Billy said something to you about her?’
‘No.’ I answered immediately.
She inhaled a deep breath then released it slowly. ‘That’s a long and complicated story, one I can’t answer easily right now.’
I regretted asking. The pained look in Lillian’s eyes wasn’t worth my stupid curiosity.
I sat in awkward silence until she broke the heaviness of the moment with a warm smile. ‘I’ve been meaning to ask you,’ she began, ‘one of the detectives on your case—Blake—was hoping to speak with you. Will you be okay if I bring him here to see you?’
People in authority scared me, but I couldn’t say no. So I agreed.
Her smile grew warmer. ‘Oh, and before I forget …’ She reached into her bag, pulled out an envelope, and handed it to me. ‘I have this for you.’
I opened the envelope and pulled out a generic debit card.
‘The wonderful charity I liaise with has put this together for you,’ she said. ‘It acts like a credit card. There’s only fifty dollars on it now, but hopefully that’ll change. It’s been a little tricky trying to sort out a regular welfare payment for you without any ID, but I’m working on it.’
Her words pierced me, and my shoulders curled inwards until I crumpled into an emotional heap. Guilt niggled under my skin, knowing I’d tried to run away earlier, after everything she’d done and was doing for me.
But as I held the bank card, and the word welfare danced in my mind, I knew I had no choice but to get out of here. I wouldn’t be heartless and leave without a word like I’d tried to do earlier. That would hurt Lillian, and she didn’t deserve that. But I couldn’t continue to stay here, in her house, under the care of her brother, all
meals and food and clothing paid for, waiting for welfare payments.
I thanked Lillian for the card, and she left. I leaned against the bedhead and pulled out my drawing pad and a pencil. Impulsively, I drew a cube and began shading it until the image on the page was nothing but a blur of gray. Flipping the page over, I repeated the same process, a million thoughts plaguing me.
Finding out who I was and where I belonged had never felt so urgent.
All I had to do was find the right time to get away from Billy.
7
Her
The right time came on Sunday morning, but not before I thought I was going to die.
Sweat drenched my tank top. I pulled the covers off and sat on the edge of the bed. My skin was clammy, and I shook violently, sucking in one desperate breath after the other.
I didn’t realize how much noise I was making until Billy knocked on my bedroom door.
‘Lucy?’
I couldn’t find the breath to answer. Pain pinched my chest, and I threw my ghostly pale hand over my left boob. I gasped over and over, but I couldn’t get enough air.
This was it—I was going to die in his house.
Billy knocked harder, and his pitch grew with urgency. ‘Lucy?’
I didn’t want him to see me. I was braless, wearing a thin black tank and purple underwear, but I couldn’t waste what little air I had by asking him not to come in.
He knocked again, and when I didn’t respond, he swung my bedroom door open.
Billy stood wide-eyed in the doorway, crutch under his arm but no brace on his leg, wearing only his boxers. I must have woken him. I turned my back to him and begged my heart to hold on until I got out of this house.
I didn’t want to die in front of Billy.
‘Why are you breathing like that?’ There was no hint of asshole in his tone, only concern.
I didn’t respond, and he kept asking the same question over and over. At some point, he must have realized I couldn’t speak because he stopped. Still, he didn’t leave my bedroom.
My wheezing gasps went on for what felt like an eternity, and I was exhausted. When I eventually sucked in that lungful of air that sent oxygen bursting through my veins, I collapsed backward onto the bed.
I finally had a voice to speak. ‘Mind giving me a minute to change out of my underwear?’
Without argument, Billy hobbled out of my room, gently clicking the door shut behind him.
It took much longer than a minute to get ready. An hour later, I walked out of my bedroom, having showered and changed, my skin no longer clammy or covered with bruise-like dots.
Billy stood against the kitchen bench. His wet, unstyled hair told me he’d just finished showering himself. I hadn’t seen him out of sweatpants and old t-shirts until now, and I couldn’t help but notice how good he looked in his dark-blue jeans and fitted gray tee. From the way he studied me, I knew he was about to bring up what happened in the bedroom, so I forced a smile.
‘You look good in jeans,’ I said.
‘Why were you breathing like that?’
I allowed the question to fly over me, letting it drift far, far away.
‘Are you heading out somewhere special?’ I asked.
He stepped toward me with slow, deliberate steps.
Thum-Thum-Thum-umppp.
‘Lucy—’
‘Are you going on a date? Because you should probably style your hair.’
I didn’t know why I’d said that. He looked strangely sexy with his wet, unkempt hair falling unruly in every direction.
He scanned my face, but I gave him nothing and refused to drop my gaze despite my shoulders shrinking inwards.
‘No, not going on a date,’ he said eventually. ‘Just going out … although, I’m not sure if …’ His voice trailed, and I knew he was debating whether or not he should stay home.
This was my chance; I couldn’t let it go.
‘Go out. Have fun. I’ll just hang out here,’ I said as brightly as I could.
‘Do you need me to call Lillian?’
Was he concerned?
‘Why would I need you to call Lillian?’
He arched an eyebrow, the look on his face saying, “because you were lying on the bed in your underwear, pale and blotchy, sweating like a wild animal and practically dying because you couldn’t breathe.”
But his lips said, ‘No reason.’
Billy hesitated by the front door. I offered him a reassuring nod, confirming I’d be okay, then waited twenty minutes before I walked out of the apartment and down the road to the bus stop.
I sat on the steps at Railway Square and just … stared. Somewhere, on one of these crazy busy streets, I’d been hit by a car.
The thought made my breakfast curdle in my stomach.
Tourists, students, workers, buskers, shoppers—I could have disappeared in this crowd. Sitting here, I was no one. People walked by, absorbed in themselves, oblivious to me studying them. I sat there for ages, waiting for the lightning bolt that would strike my brain and return my memory.
But it never came.
How many hours had passed? Enough to make my ass sore.
Getting up, I walked out of the square, toward the road, and watched the buses drive by, wondering where I’d gotten run over.
‘Hey.’
I jumped, and my heart nearly burst through my chest.
The guy stood beside me on the sidewalk, his mouth kicked up at the side, his hands deep inside his jean pockets.
I stepped away from him. ‘Do I know you?’
He wore an oversized black Pantera t-shirt over tight black jeans. Tattoos snaked around his right arm, creeping out from under his sleeve and down to his wrist.
Raking his fingers through his blond hair, he narrowed his light-blue eyes at me. ‘No. But I know you.’
T-H-U-M-M-M-P. T-H-U-M-M-M-P.
My tongue grew heavy, and my mouth dried, making it hard to speak. ‘You know me?’
‘Yeah, you’re the girl who was in the newspaper the other day, right? The one who got hit by the car and lost her memory?’
My shoulders sagged into a deflated heap. ‘Oh. Yeah, that was me.’
He studied me for a moment. I couldn’t bring myself to look at him, so I scanned the stream of people passing by.
‘You’ve been sitting here for ages,’ he said. ‘What were you looking for?’
The hair on my arms pricked up, and my voice dropped to a strained whisper. ‘You were watching me?’
He shrugged in a way that suggested it wasn’t a big deal. ‘I was having a smoke on the other side of the square and happened to notice you. That’s all.’ Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a packet of cigarettes and flicked one toward me. ‘Want one?’
I shook my head. ‘I don’t smoke.’
His brows furrowed. ‘You don’t?’
The inflection in his tone rose to indicate his surprise, and I jerked back. Did I look like a smoker?
‘Anyway, I should introduce myself. I’m Tyler.’
‘Hey, Tyler …’ I paused. Tyler. The name played in my head like a song playing on a broken turntable, scratched and muffled, so far in the distance I could only just make out the tune.
I stepped away from him. Then, without thinking, I stepped closer again. ‘I’m Lucy.’
His lips twisted into a peculiar smile. ‘Lucy? I thought you didn’t know anything about yourself?’
‘I don’t. But the person I’m staying with wanted to give me a name.’
Tyler propped a cigarette between his lips, and with a swift flick of his metal lighter, he sucked in a deep lungful of poison. Clouds of toxins floated in my face when he exhaled, and I breathed it in. It was disgusting; I knew that. But for some stupid reason, I inhaled again, filling my lungs to the brim with his secondhand smoke.
‘And you chose Lucy?’
‘Actually, I wanted Maggie, but he said I didn’t look like a Maggie.’
Tyler’s eyes widened, the cigarette han
ging loosely from his mouth. ‘Well, I think you look like a Maggie. Who’s this he anyway? Who’s he to say you don’t look like a Maggie?’
I clenched my jaw shut. I didn’t want to tell Tyler about Billy, so I shrugged and kept my tone nonchalant as I lied. ‘Just one of the social workers at the shelter where I’m staying.’
Tyler gave me a long, contemplative nod. I couldn’t tell yet if I liked the kink in his smile or not. Something about him made me want to leave and go back to Billy, but my legs wouldn’t move. I stood motionless, my gaze darting between the hustle and bustle of the street and Tyler.
Every time I caught his pale-blue eyes, I looked away.
‘So …’ Tyler flicked his finished cigarette onto the ground and stepped on it. He was a litterer. ‘I was about to head to Circular Quay and get something to eat. Wanna join me?’
‘How far is that?’
‘Ten minutes by train.’
A bus braked loudly. Suddenly, I was acutely aware of the traffic—the constant stream of cars, buses honking, the dozens of pedestrians. A woman trying to beat the lights ran across the road as a bus approached, and my heart seized. I didn’t want to be here anymore, not around the traffic, not around the noise, and not with Tyler.
‘I’ll have to pass. I’ve got to get back to the shelter.’
He didn’t seem to hear me. ‘There’s a takeout place right near Circular Quay station. We can get some fries and a coke, or maybe a shake?’
The invitation dangled in front of me, taunting me, tempting me to do something reckless like continue to hang out with someone I didn’t know. I had the debit card Lillian had given me in my back pocket. I doubted that she’d want me to use the money on fries and a chocolate milkshake. But, somehow, Tyler had found my weakness, and so I nodded.
We sat on a bench seat not far from the opera house, the most spectacular view of the Sydney Harbour Bridge across from us. Ferries drifted in and out, the water shimmering under the vibrant spring sun. All around us people were either strolling along the boardwalk or sipping coffees at one of the cafés dotting the water’s edge.
I ate fries and drank a milkshake beside a total stranger.
Call me Lucy: An Enemies to Lovers romance Page 6