by Devon Ashley
It never occurred to me before, but there were a lot of holes in my memories regarding my parents. I had some, but there were more holes than not. But on the other hand, I had absolutely zero memories regarding the people related to Claire. If I had really spent seventeen years of my life with them, wouldn’t I remember something about them?
This was all just too confusing.
“Why do you think brainwashed? Why would you know something like that?”
“Because that’s one of the things the cops said could happen to you, and since you didn’t recognize me or Thea, either that or the trauma has done something to make you forget. I think the cops told us that to prepare us…to expect that you’d never come back to us.”
“If what you’re saying is true, then why brainwash me? If all those girls were stolen to be sold as…you know…” Was I the only one that escaped? Were they being sexually assaulted right now? I groaned as my stomach began churning the acid within, making me queasy at just the thought of that shithead violating me even one more time. “Why even bother if they’re going to lock us up in a room somewhere anyway?” I forced myself to finish.
“So you’d be hopeless,” he said sadly, like it was the most obvious answer in the world. “Those people had you believing that you lost everything. Your family. Your home. You had nothing. Nowhere to go and no one to look for you. So even when you escaped, you never even knew you were loved. He wanted you to stay and live with him in that house willingly. If he had intended to lock you away in a room then no, I don’t think they would’ve bothered brainwashing you first.”
Whimpering over those last few words, my feet stumbled backwards until I hit the wall, and I willingly allowed my body to slide and collapse to the floor. “Why would I… Why would Claire believe any of that? If she had a loving family… How could they just erase all those memories and fill her head with such nonsense?” My lower jaw quivered and I fought the sting as tears began to well behind my eyes. But the dam broke and flooded my face with zigzagging streams. “And if I’m Claire, why would they ever want me back? If I forgot them so easily, how could they ever forgive me for that?”
Nick had been keeping his distance, but his expression became suffocated with pain, and he threw himself to his knees to sweep me into his embrace. My chest heaved uncontrollably as I gasped for air to pass through my swollen throat and fill my lungs.
I wasn’t absolutely sure I was Claire, but everything he said made sense. The lack of memories. The nightmares where my parents seemed so disappointed in me, the fear that always overcame me when I dreamed of them, and how they could ever leave me to someone so vile. Sometimes I wondered what made them choose that guy above all their other friends.
“It’s not your fault,” Nick soothed, gently swaying me, comforting me. “There’s no telling how long it took them to break you. Or how they went about doing it.”
Ugh. That was a horrible thought. What did they do to convince me of these lies? Part of me was pissed enough to go searching inside my head for answers, but the other part of me was scared shitless to find out the truth.
“It was their job to go after you until you broke. Your family won’t hold that against you.”
Choking on the nasal fluid rushing down my throat, I cried, “But I don’t remember those people. There’s nothing in my head, not even in my dreams. How am I supposed to consider them family when I don’t even know who they are?”
“You didn’t remember me either, did you? But once I inserted myself back into your life, your dreams and your subconscious recognized me. Even if you didn’t.”
I pulled my head from the soothing niche between his neck and shoulder, and gazed into his loving emerald eyes. “When did I recognize you?”
His smile warmed my heart. “When you called me Nickolas.”
“I did call you that, didn’t I?” Yelled it, in fact.
He nodded. “I never gave you or anyone else that name here. You remembered it all on your own. And you only ever called me Nickolas when you were pissed off or upset with me.”
Like I was when I shouted it earlier. How did I not catch that? “Nick?” I said, searching deep within his eyes. “You weren’t in that photo album, but you said you were here to watch over me. So who are you to me?”
He gently tucked some stray hairs behind my ear. “I think you already know that.”
We slept the rest of the day, with his body spooning mine underneath the covers. Nick called Paul to tell him I was in no state to work and he refused to leave me alone to work himself, so for the first time since I began working there, Breenie’s Diner wouldn’t be open for the night shift.
It was Paul that initiated the downward spiral my life took these past three weeks. Or maybe it was considered an upward spiral now, as it seemed to have resulted in a positive outcome. He’d seen the missing girl flyer for Claire Whitaker when he traveled to Seattle one weekend. Apparently, he’d always been suspicious of my past since all my legal documents burned to ashes and I couldn’t remember my social security number. And with such a common name like Megan Smith, it’d been impossible to run some type of background check on me. He’d only taken my word at face value because he saw the burned flesh on my arm when I reached out for the application paperwork. It was because he thought I was running away from a bad situation that he offered me a job and a place to stay.
Thea had taken Paul’s call, and took it upon herself to check me out. She didn’t want to tell Nick or her parents, to give them hope when she feared there was none left, so the shock and awe on her face that night was honest and sincere. The police had long since warned her that even if I was ever found, I may not remember them anymore, so she knew not to push me just yet. Though I’m sure it was the most difficult thing she probably ever had to do, Thea forced herself to say goodbye, then consulted the others. Her parents wanted to just whip me up and take me home, but their Psychologist friend told them it would do more harm than good, and that forcing themselves on me would probably push me further away.
It was Nick’s idea to work beside me, to befriend and ease his way back into my life, the boyfriend I never even remembered. Guess it was lucky that my heart was just as enamored as Claire’s was. But my parents couldn’t just keep away. They had to see me with their own eyes, too. That’s why Nick was so determined to wait on them when they came to Breenie’s that night, to make sure they could handle hanging around without letting their emotions run away them. Nick wouldn’t let me take over their table until he was confident they wouldn’t say anything to make me suspicious. No wonder they stuck around so long, needing endless refills of coffee.
I had been lying there awake for an hour now, indulging in the warmth from Nick’s body to even relieve my bladder. I could sense him beginning to stir, the sound of his breath becoming quieter, the arm thrown around me beginning to tighten.
“This is weird,” I mumbled. I sensed his head lifting off the pillow, waiting for me to explain, probably secretly hoping my comment didn’t pertain to him. “My head is filled with all these memories that may have never actually existed. And if none of those ever happened, then I’ve got nothing. My entire life has been taken away from me. The only memories I have that I know are real, are the most haunting of all. What am I supposed to do now? How am I supposed to go forward now that I can no longer trust my own thoughts, when what they’re telling me might not even guide me in the right direction?”
“I don’t know. Maybe you have to find a way to disassociate yourself from everything that’s happened so far. Just start over. Get new clothes. Cut and dye your hair if you have to. Change your name again.”
“You don’t like my name?”
“Not if it’s the name they gave you, no,” he answered bluntly.
“They didn’t,” I said quietly. “They called me Natalie. I chose Megan after I escaped.”
His hand gently swept back and forth against my sleeve-covered arm. “Then I like Megan,” he said kindly.
After a few content moments, I dared to ask the question that had been weighing heavy on my mind.
“So what now?”
“Well, I’d like to get back to my real cooking gig, but I’m not going to leave unless you’re coming with me.” I turned in his grasp to face him. I loved the sensation of his fingers brushing through the roots of my hair; it was almost hypnotizing. “It’ll give you the chance to start over. Try to figure out what your next step is.”
“Where is home for you?” I recalled him claiming Washington as his home state, but he never specified a city. I now realized that in order for him and Claire to have dated in high school, he had to reside in Seattle. Right there with Claire’s family. Who desperately called me their own but who I felt no emotion for whatsoever, other than pity for losing their youngest daughter.
“Portland.”
That surprised me, and I rolled my head far enough back to catch his gaze. “Did I…did Claire know that?”
He nodded and murmured, “Mmm-hmm. I was attending a culinary school there when she was taken.”
I lay my head back down. So Claire knew about Portland. Of all the cities I had to choose from, that was the one that called to me. Was it just a coincidence, or was it an instinct within that told me to go there?
To find Nick.
To find safety.
It didn’t take long to pack our stuff. Nick hardly ever pulled anything out to put back in, and most of my things were already packed and ready for me to bolt. Nick never said anything about that, though I was sure he noticed the first time he looked inside my closet. And now that he knew the truth, there was no need for him to inquire about my packing habits.
As he took the rest of our stuff to the car, I turned to take in my apartment one last time. It wasn’t much, but it had been my haven for more than a year now. I came here damaged and alone, but had somehow managed to piece myself back together again.
Well, mostly. What was left, Nick seemed to be slowly mending back together for me. But what if this effort was all for a girl that didn’t exist anymore? Or a girl yet to be found, and me just a case of mistaken identity? It tore at my heart that I might be taking away what little hope another girl could be holding onto.
I sensed Nick standing in the doorway behind me, probably leaning against the doorframe, allowing me to finish whatever thoughts were flowing through my mind. “What if I’m not really her?” I asked, my back still facing him. “What if this has all just been some weird coincidence? Like maybe I was taken and given that tattoo to make me look like Claire? And if I’m me and Claire’s Claire, then I was taken six months after her. I would’ve been a good replacement for someone that really wanted her.”
Inaudible sounds came from behind, then hands swept down my cloth-protected arms, finally extending the length to my hands, where his fingers threaded mine. My eyes closed, the sensation of his body pressing firmly into mine so soothing that it overwhelmed me. It both scared and thrilled me as a tiny zap of electricity tingled my insides.
His cheek pressed against my temple. “Would you like to know for sure?”
My chin lifted slightly in his direction. When I didn’t respond verbally, he continued, “I talked to a friend of mine that’s a medical technologist. He said if you wanted to get a DNA test done to match you to Claire, he’d bump you up and add you to the next run. If that’s what you want. You could know by the end of the week.”
“Is that what you want?”
I felt his shoulders shrug. “I don’t need a test to confirm what I already know. Same for the Whitakers. We all knew the moment we spoke to you. We could sense traces of your former self in you. Your dialect, the way you move, the way you twist your hair around your finger when you’re lost in thought. This test would be for you. So you’ll finally know what we know.”
“And if it comes back negative?”
“It won’t,” he said quickly.
“Nick,” I whined, needing him to acknowledge that nothing had been proven yet, that I could still just be me, and Claire just be Claire.
He tried to cover his silent sigh, but I felt the rise and fall of his chest against my back, and heard the slow exhalation as it pushed between his lips. “If we have to, we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it. Agreed?”
I nodded, and let him guide me out to the car. We were leaving the furniture and other contents behind for Paul and Darla to do with as they pleased. Maybe they could get a little money for it or hold onto it for the next charity case to enter their lives.
A few minutes later I was staring at the back entrance of Breenie’s Diner, my butt seemingly glued to the passenger seat. Damn my paranoia and its incessant need to scan every part of that alley. Would my mind never cease?
With a hint of pity and sorrow, I drearily asked, “Do they know?”
He understood exactly what my vagueness entailed. “No. When I first got here, I didn’t even know what truly happened to you. Paul told us you’d been burned, so I told him you were in a fire and it must’ve been so traumatic that you walked away amnesic.”
Say what? Could that even happen? “And he believed that?”
“He had no reason not to believe it. We’re all hoping your memory loss will be temporary.”
If there really was memory loss to begin with…
Was it sad that part of me actually wanted to be Claire? To be the girl Nick never quit searching for? To have the family dynamic I thought I already lost?
“By the way, only Paul and Darla think you’re Claire. Tish and Juan just think we’re heading up to Portland to start a new life together.”
I nodded my head. That didn’t sound so bad. At least no one knew the truth. I’d be horrified if they began looking at me funny after all this time.
I released my seat belt. “Okay,” I tried to say with confidence. Time to say goodbye.
We stepped through the back door, me behind Nick. The lunch rush was already over, so it didn’t surprise me that Paul was working in his office, Juan only had two orders going in the kitchen, and Darla and Tish could be heard talking on the opposite side of the pass-through. Never the talkative one, Juan offered me a half smile and a wave and I responded with the same. Nick went for the office while I stepped into the front, where I was immediately accosted by Tish.
She wrapped me up in a bouncy hug and blabbered so quickly that most of what she said was incoherent. Something that included the words you bitch, can’t believe and so jealous.
“Jeesh, Tish.” Jesting, I said, “Lay off the caffeine a bit.” She laughed, and like I reminded her of the soda on the counter, took a sip before being called away to help one of her tables.
Darla gave me a more motherly hug, soft and comforting. “Oh, honey. We sure are going to miss ya’ around here.”
“I’m going to miss you guys, too.” Especially Paul and Darla. They took me in when I was nothing but a ragged stranger, still wrapped in gauze from the fire, and got me on my feet again. Never even asked for anything in return, but hopefully I’d be able to repay them in some way one day.
“Don’t get me wrong,” she warned, “I’m happy for you and I’m glad you have someone like Nick watching out for you. I’m just really happy you’re not going to rot away your life here.”
I pulled back, and with a disapproving glare to her eyes, replied, “I like it here. Even if I had stayed forever, I never would’ve considered myself rotting away.”
“You know what I mean,” she sassed, tugging once on my ponytail. “Paul and I want to see you do something more than just wait tables the rest of your life. Now don’t get mad at me for saying this, but I’m sorta glad you were only here because you lost your memory.” She waved her finger at me. “I always knew there was something about you that didn’t make sense. I always figured you were running from something, I just didn’t want to bring it up and make you run again.”
I smiled and leaned in to hug her once more. Darla had sort of been like a surrogate mother in a way, and I was go
ing to miss her sassy, sometimes overdramatic, retorts. Nick was at the door, beckoning me with the wave of his hand. As I pushed past him, Paul was there with waiting arms. His hug was more of an arm around the shoulder squeeze, but he pulled so tightly my shoulders rammed into my ears. Nick bailed to say his goodbyes to Darla and Tish.
“Well, what can I say?” I asked once he released me. Sarcastically, I added, “Thanks for being suspicious of me enough to call the number on the flyer?”
This was the second Breenie family member to point at me in the last two minutes, and Paul wagged his finger slow and heavy. “You know, when I saw that flyer, I actually came to a dead stop. And after talking to your sister and Nick, it all began to make sense. The fire, you keeping to yourself and jumping every time you heard a weird noise.”
“I did that?” I asked curiously.
“You were a little nervous the first few months, yeah. Like you were always afraid something was going to jump out and get’cha. We’re just glad you’re beginning to remember where you came from.”
Well, not really. So far I was just being told who I was and what happened. Nothing was really coming out of my own head just yet.
“Thank you,” I said sincerely, “for taking me in and watching over me. You didn’t have to, and that means the world to me.” Screw the awkwardness. I hugged that jolly, fat guy whether he felt weird about it or not. He didn’t press into me like I did him, but he did show his affection by patting the back of my shoulder.
Pulling away, I winced as I guiltily asked, “So does this mean you’re back on the nightshift again?”
“Most likely. I still need to hire a waitress, so we’re going to close at nine the next couple of nights.”
“I’m so sorry we’re leaving without giving you notice.”