by Devon Ashley
I heard quick thumps ascending the carpeted stairway, and seconds later Thea came to a halt in the doorway. Disbelief and longing filled her voice as she smoothly said, “Oh, my God.” Her hands clapped together and covered her face, her fingertips joining at the bridge of her nose. “It’s really you.”
I stood up as she advanced, her hands reaching out to hug me, tears threatening to over-moisturize my eyes again as I lightly placed my arms around her. “I knew it! I knew the moment I saw you that it was really you.” She continued on, an excess of tears causing her to blabber her words together, but I was too caught up in something else to decipher her sentences.
There was something familiar about the scent on her neck. I inhaled a long, deep breath through my nose, my mind dissecting the scent, digging deep inside my head, deeper and deeper into the recesses, scratching, scratching, scratching…until it finally found the corresponding memory. In my mind, I saw a cloth doll, with bright blue eyes, freckles in triplicate that formed a triangle above her nose and a smile on each cheek, a red dress with a white frock, and green and white striped stockings. But something was wrong with it.
“Strawberry Shortcake,” I murmured.
Thea wasn’t expecting that, and she pulled away to ask, “What?”
Still dazed in thought, I replied, “You smell like a Strawberry Shortcake doll. But the one I see in my head looks weird. She almost looks like a boy because her hair is so short.”
“Oh, my God!” Thea cried, shaking me roughly with excitement. “That was your doll! You had Strawberry Shortcake and I had Blueberry Muffin, and one day you went and got her without permission. I was so mad at you that I cut all the hair off your doll! I can’t believe you’re remembering something so small!”
“Small?” Our mother burst, standing up to involve herself now. “It devastated her so much she cried for three days straight and stopped eating!” Turning to me, she calmly said, “I wanted to get you a new one but you wouldn’t have it. You said that it would be like killing her, rejecting her that way. So I told you that if you wished hard enough, the doll fairy would come while you were sleeping and regrow her hair. I spent hours trying to scuff and dirty-up the new doll so you’d believe that fairy actually came!”
Looking back at Thea with judgmental eyes, she cried, “So it was no little thing for her to remember. You traumatized her!”
Appalled, Thea’s mouth opened wide and her hands went to her heart. “I was seven! All I wanted was for her to never touch my doll again!”
The look on their faces was so priceless I couldn’t help but laugh as the tears flowed freely down my cheeks. Maybe it was silly of me, but part of me kept thinking this is weird. I barely knew these people. Hell, I sort of didn’t know these people. But another part of me wanted to just let go and accept what the DNA test already told me. That they were my family, even if I couldn’t remember the life I shared with them. Was it wrong that I wanted to have my mother’s arms around me? To hug me and kiss me and tell me everything would be okay? Because inside, it was what I yearned for. Family. People to love me unconditionally. And for that, I tried to lose myself in the moment as much as my heart would allow, trying desperately to push back the uncertainty that lingered inside me. Soon enough, I allowed myself to join in on a three-way hug, listening to them continue to blabber as we wiped away our tears.
Our commotion didn’t break until we heard Nick’s snarky remark. “Oh, Lord. Did I choose the wrong time to head up here or what?”
Thea humorously told him to shut up as my mother made her way past him in the doorway, still wiping her tears, saying she had to get back to cooking the meal or we’d never get to eat.
Thea then reached for the side of my shoulder. “I’m so sorry I was such a bitch. I promise I’m going to make it up to you. I don’t care if I have to pay a thousand dollars on eBay, I’m going to replace that doll for you.”
My hands going out before me, I chuckled and said, “I don’t need the doll. Really.”
“No!” she cried back. “You get your first memory back and it’s me destroying your favorite doll? Hell no! I’m replacing your damn doll!”
“You remembered something?” I had almost forgotten Nick was there, he was so quiet and still.
“Yeah,” Thea said bitterly. “About me being a horrible sister.”
“Oh,” he said. “So you just remembered a typical day in your life then?”
“Shut up!” She hit him on the arm for giving her such a hard time, but the power behind her punch did nothing. She wiped her cheeks clear of tears and added, “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go freshen up.” To me, she added, “Use anything in the bathroom if you want. I left some stuff here for when I stay the night, and we always used the same products for everything.”
I gave her a thank you and she closed herself off behind the bathroom door. Nick gently grasped the sides of my head and angled it towards his. “You remembered something,” he repeated, this time with quiet awe. Kissing my forehead, he added, “I told you it would all start to come back.” He gathered me into his arms. “I’m so proud of you, baby.”
I closed my eyes and fully embraced his hug, like his essence was flowing into me and recharging my courage battery. When I reopened my eyes, my line of sight was fixated on the bed, and a smile formed across my face. “So, is this the same bed?”
“Yes, it is,” he said quickly. “Now hush up before your parents hear you.” He pinched my ribs and I swatted him off me. “So have you gone through any of your stuff yet?”
“I’m warming up to it. Maybe you’ll know if something’s important to me.” I pulled open the top drawer of the chest and we peeked inside. I was immediately drawn to a stack of photos and Nick fingered through a bunch of jewelry in a large, square-shaped box lined with crushed velvet.
“Hmm…” he said, but it was really more of a groan.
“What?”
“The necklace I gave you for your seventeenth birthday isn’t here. I bet you were wearing it the day you went missing.”
“Fuckers,” I mumbled. Of course they would’ve taken it, that and anything else on my person that could trigger a real memory. But seeing how I had no idea what I was missing, it was easy for me to shift my focus back to the photos. It seemed to be me with various people I couldn’t recall, save a few with Thea or Nick. “Do you know any of these people?”
He looked through a few with me, saying, “Yeah, these are some of the people you used to hang with from school. That’s Michelle, Sarah, Winnie. A few more I can’t really remember anymore. I hardly knew them.”
“So where are they now?”
Apparently, he’d rather try to eat his lips than tell me, because it took some time for his mouth to let go. “I don’t really know. Some of them continued asking and checking in with your parents, but after a few months…”
“They gave up,” I replied bluntly.
“No,” he said softly. “It’s not that they didn’t care, because I promise you they did. They were just in a better position to let go after awhile.”
Everybody kind of acknowledged that I wasn’t coming back. Except Nick and my family, of course, who never lost hope. “Oh,” I said dismally, dropping the stack of those I didn’t know into the trash. Even if I got my memory back, I had no intention of revisiting lost friendships with people that would always look at me funny. Funny. I suddenly remembered my burns and looked to see if I was exposed anywhere. No one had asked me about them today. They treated me like they probably always had. Well, maybe with a little more fragility, but once again, I found people who loved me for me and didn’t run from the damn burns disfiguring my skin.
We rummaged through the rest of my drawers, my closet and under my bed. Nick pulled things out he thought Claire would’ve held on to, like pictures, a certain pink hoodie he said I wore a lot, a few pieces of favored jewelry that wasn’t missing from the collection, a soft, wool blanket I loved to cuddle under while reading, and the stack of book
s I kept in my closet that he claimed were my favorites. We tucked them all inside a duffle I found in the closet. I don’t know why, but I left behind all my old school stuff, including several yearbooks. Maybe one day though, as it was doubtful my parents would ever throw anything away. Alas, I never found a diary or journal, even when I checked under the mattress. I sort of wished I had one. Who better to tell me what went and on and how I felt about it all, other than myself?
Dinner went a little smoother since I was beginning to feel like I belonged. No one hassled me with questions of the past or future. Instead, they simply discussed things they normally would’ve discussed whether I was there or not, save how I was studying to take the GED. I think Nick might’ve been responsible for keeping the focus of conversation off me this trip, and I loved him even more for it.
I received several rounds of hugs and kisses as we made our way out the front door, which ended up taking thirty minutes in itself. It was all still a little weird for me, but I didn’t want them to know that, so I put forth my best smile. My mother told me to eat more, my sister told me she’d start calling in the evening, and my father handed me a box that contained every single family video he could find. I was pretty sure my father and I had been a little more aloof compared to the relationships I had had with my mom and sister, because he only offered a side hug. And right now, I was sort of grateful, because I felt a little aloof about all of this myself. I could tell it was difficult for him to relay his feelings, but tears tried to overcome his eyes as I said my final goodbye, so I knew he loved me, too.
“Here,” my mom said. “One more thing for your bag.” With that, she tucked a sealed envelope into the front pocket of my duffel.
“What is that?” I asked curiously.
“Your birth certificate and social security card. You’re going to need them to apply for an Oregon ID since we no longer have your Washington driver’s license.”
“Oh, right.” I no longer had any form of ID. My license, my school IDs, everything I had in my wallet was long gone. I thanked her with a final kiss to the cheek and followed Nick down the walk. I sighed with relief when we sat in the car and Nick gripped my hand. “You did it. So how do you feel?”
“Exhausted. Emotionally and physically. And so ready to crash in bed when we get home.”
Grinning his agreement, he started the engine and began the long drive back to Portland. Truthfully, I was relieved that was over. They were incredibly nice people and Claire was lucky to have had them. I was lucky to have them. And I hoped the weirdness inside me would fade quickly, so I could embrace their love as fully and unconditionally as they seemed to share for me.
Nick and I finally fell into a routine. Every morning we’d get up around ten, have an early lunch and spend a few hours together, then around two in the afternoon he’d head off to work and didn’t return home until after midnight. I was relentless about checking the lock on the front door and still kept the lights on while he was gone, but I managed to cut back some, turning on just enough to keep the shadows away.
Thea wasn’t kidding about checking in every single evening. At first our conversations were short and involved a lot of silence on both ends, but the more we talked, the more we began to open up and share. So now our phone calls typically lasted an hour each night. It was kind of nice to get the girl’s perspective, especially from one that had known me my whole life.
My parents called every few days to keep tabs on me. At Nick’s suggestion, I began calling them Mom and Dad like I used to. He knew how much that would warm their hearts, so as long as I wasn’t uncomfortable doing so, he thought it would be a nice gesture. My first few attempts saying that felt a little unnatural, but the more I called them that, the more it began to feel right, so much that the words just flew out of my mouth second nature. Nick’s Mom called us during the weekends, when Nick was home from work. Everything was finally falling into place; my family, my studying (I planned on taking the GED in just four weeks), and I had applied for an official name change to Megan (though I kept Whitaker as my last name). It was almost as if my life seemed normal now.
So I guess it shouldn’t have surprised me when I got an unexpected visitor one night.
BAM-BAM-BAM!
My heart went spastic and jumped at my ribs, the banging on the front door scaring the shit out of me. Nick was long gone for work and my family wasn’t expected, so I had no idea who was banging so loudly on the other side of that door.
BAM-BAM-BAM! “Claire Whitaker?” A gruff voice called through the door. “This is Detective Alvarez. Please answer the door.”
Claire? Shit.
I carefully pushed back the chair from the breakfast room table and closed Nick’s laptop. Inching my way closer to the door, I braved a peek through the eye hole. I didn’t recognize the man, who appeared middle-aged, with dark honey skin and brown hair. Whoever he was, he wasn’t in uniform. Did detectives even wear those?
BAM-BAM-BAM! “Claire Whitaker?”
Tiptoeing along the hardwood, I snatched my new phone off the kitchen counter and hit the number two to speed dial Nick. After three rings, I realized it was already after seven o’clock. Dinner rush. What if he couldn’t answer the phone? My breath caught in my throat when his end of the line finally picked up on the fifth ring.
“Megan?” he said quickly. I could hear lots of voices muffled in the background, and also the sound of dishes clanging together. “This isn’t a good time. Are you alright?”
“I’m not sure,” I replied quietly. Another heavy knock, the man repeating my former name through the door.
“What do you mean you’re not sure? And why are you whispering?”
“There’s some detective at the door that won’t go away, like he knows I’m in here. He keeps asking for Claire.”
“Don’t answer it.” I heard his words clearly now, so he must’ve stepped inside his office.
“No?” I asked with relief.
“Megan, you’re clearly not comfortable opening it up for him, so don’t. Just because a cop is knocking on the door, doesn’t mean you’re required to open it. You have rights. Let me call Hank and I’ll have him deal with it. If he’s legit, he won’t object to making an appointment for us to meet him at the station.”
“Okay,” I said meekly.
He told me to sit tight and promised to call when he knew more. I retreated to the bedroom, closed the door and turned on the TV to drown out the BAM-BAM-BAM of his fist. Ten minutes later I got a text from Nick saying the cop left, and that he’d talk to Hank, the security guy, to find out more once the dinner rush passed.
Feeling a little better, I soaked in the tub for a bit, but my mind wouldn’t settle enough to fall asleep. By the time Nick got home, I had given up and crashed on the sofa with a novel. Unfortunately, my mind wouldn’t let me get lost in the world of paranormal romance either.
Usually, I was in bed by the time he came home, so surprise shifted his face when he saw me. He immediately came to kiss my forehead. “Hey, baby. Sorry. I didn’t think you’d still be up, otherwise I would’ve called sooner.”
I tossed the book onto the coffee table, the paperback slapping against the slate top. “Couldn’t sleep.”
Nick made his way to the kitchen, dumped his backpack on one of the barstools, grabbed a beer from the refrigerator, then settled in beside me. “Worked up over the cop?”
“Just a smidgen,” I said, pinching my thumb and index finger together to add my visual representation of a smidgen. “Any idea what he wanted?”
He shook his head. “No. He wouldn’t tell Hank any details but he left his business card for us. I’ll call him in the morning and find out what he wants.”
I leaned my head back over the cushion. “You worried it has to do with the fire?” he asked, combing his fingers through my hair.
“The thought’s crossed my mind like a hundred times tonight.”
He was silent for a moment. “Well, I’d be incredibly surprised if the
y put you in that house since no one knew you were there and any trace of your DNA would’ve gone up in flames. But it’s possible.”
I groaned, not even wanting to think of the repercussions of that mess could cause me.
“Megan,” he said in the voice that meant he wouldn’t continue until I made eye contact. Reluctantly, I rolled my head in his direction. “You’re not going to jail. Your dad mentioned last weekend that they told the cops they found you. They’re probably just following up with you.”
“Did my parents tell them what happened to me?”
“I don’t know. Probably a little because your file already suggests trafficking.”
I rolled my head back to stare at the ceiling: white, with a surface I figured wasn’t too different from what I expected the moon to look like, both smoothed and cratered. This sucked. Just when I thought I was moving on with life, trying to let some things from the past go free, I get sucked right back into the nightmare again.
Sensing my continued stress, Nick began swirling his fingertips on my scalp. It was heavenly. “Do you want to call your parents and ask if they’ve been contacted? Now that I think about it, the only way anyone would know Claire Whitaker was here was if one of your family members told them that. But even if they did, they obviously didn’t expect them to come here or they would’ve warned us first.”
“Yeah, you’re right. It’s probably just a follow-up.” I rolled back again. He looked as tired as I suddenly felt. “Will you go with me if they want me to come up?”
“Like I’d let you go alone. No offense, Megan, but it’s doubtful I’ll let you go anywhere alone ever again.”
Fine by me. Forcing a tired smile, I pulled his reluctant body to his feet so we could go pass out in bed together.
I felt like I swallowed a brick of dry ice. Stomach acid ate away at me, churning madly, burning the bottom of my throat. Nausea threatened to bring up the delicious frittata Nick made me for breakfast, one of those filled with colorful, freshly chopped vegetables. And I really didn’t want to see what that would look like coming up.