Deja Vu: A Romantic Comedy

by Sosie Frost

  Shepard crinkled the flyer into a ball and tossed it into the garbage.

  “Hey!” I dove for it. “What the hell?”

  “Are you insane?” He ripped the other flyers out of my hand and pitched them into the pail too. “Do you have any idea what you’re doing?”

  “Yeah! I’m trying to figure out who I am.”

  “Grab the kid. Go home. Wait for me to break this case.”

  My spine stiffened, and my hand slapped on my hip a little too aggressively. I considered that another instinct. A bad one.

  “Any minute now, right, detective?”

  “Hard to start an investigation with no name, addresses, dates, phone numbers, or memories to go on, Evie.”

  “That’s why I’m posting the flyers.”

  “And you think that’s going to help?”

  “I think I have to do something.”

  “Your something is going home with the baby and keeping both of you safe and happy.”

  “I have amnesia. I’m not an invalid. I can multi-task.”

  I reached for the posters again. Shepard grabbed my hand instead.

  And the heat poured from him into me, liquefying my courage, resolve, confidence.

  This wasn’t fair.

  Why did it have to be him?

  Why was he the one on my case? The only person kind enough to help me. To take care of me. To watch over me.

  I wished he wasn’t so damn attractive.

  I washed he hadn’t gotten so damn close.

  And I wished I hadn’t replayed that kiss—that mistake—over and over in my mind.

  “Do you know how dangerous this is?” Shepard whispered.

  My heart twisted itself into a knot. I glanced at his hand, wrapped so perfectly around my wrist.

  Yeah. I had a good idea of just how dangerous it was.

  “This poster?” He gave a frustrated grunt. “You’re posting your name. Your number. Your condition. Anyone could find you.”

  “That’s the point. If they know me—”

  “It won’t matter if they know you. Anyone could take advantage of the fact that you have amnesia. They could come to find you. Rob you. Or…” He glanced at the baby. “Or worse. This is stupid. You aren’t putting these up.”

  “Yes, I am.”

  “You aren’t listening.”

  “No. You aren’t.” I held Clue a bit closer and groaned. “I can’t just sit around and wait for someone to come to me. I should go to them. It’s been too long, and the more time we waste—”

  “You think I’m just pissing this time away?” Shepard gestured around his office. “I’m doing my job, Evie. And you should be doing yours.”

  “Which is?”

  “Resting.”

  “You try resting with a month-old baby. Tell me how it goes.”

  “I understand that, Evie. But I’m working. You should too. Go home and take care of the baby.”

  “This is someone else’s baby too! And he deserves to know where she is!”

  That did it.

  Clue didn’t like the shootout, and she tagged me out of the match.

  Her fists balled, and she gave an unhappy wail as her momma lost her temper. I soothed her with a pat to her back and little bounce.

  “Great. Now she’s upset.” I softened my tone and sang the words. “I can’t believe you aren’t helping.”

  Shepard’s voice lowered. “Don’t start. You know damn well this has nothing to do with a poster.”

  I tensed. “Don’t get her upset.”

  Or me.

  “Evie, we have to talk about what happened—”

  Clue cried harder. I frowned at him, slicing through my anger with a fake smile and false falsetto. “Softy-wofty, Shepard. Don’t upset the baby-waby.”

  “Seriously?”

  “We don’t have to talksy-walksy about what happened.”

  “Yes—yesie, wesie.” He awkwardly attempted the baby-talk. “I kissed you.”

  Oh, he didn’t have to be chivalrous for my mistake. “No. I kissed you.”

  “Don’t. No.” He pointed at me. “Evie, I took advantage of you—”

  “Tone.”

  “I…tooksy-wooksy advantage of you. And I’m sorry.”

  “You didn’t.”

  He whispered the words with a forced grin. “I never should’ve put you in that position. It was my fault.”

  “What position?”

  “I knew you were vulnerable…wonerable.”

  “I wasn’t. I was tired. I came onto you.” I bounced Clue. “And that’s my faultsy-waltzy.”

  “It’s not,” he said.

  “I flirted with you.”

  “Only because I flirted with you.”

  This got us nowhere. The humiliation and shame couldn’t battle for supremacy over my disgrace.

  “Don’t you get it?” I danced with the baby, delighting her with a few bumps and swoops. “I kissed you. My family is out there, but I kissed you. I can’t do this. I can’t just sit anymore. Clue deserves more than a mom who is slutty-wutty.”

  “You aren’t slutty-wutty!”

  “Tell that to her father.” Now I was shaking. “This was my mistake. My fault. I have to fix this. I need to find them. I have to do something.”

  “And these itsy-bitsy baby-waby posters are the way?” Shepard held his arms out. “So they can robby-bobby you or worse?”

  “I don’t need your permission.” I juggled Clue to one arm and shoved her blanket in the diaper bag before casting it over my shoulder. “I shouldn’t have come here.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “What I should’ve done before.” I sang the words like Twinkle Twinkle Little Star. She liked that. “Hang these in the grocery store.”

  “Because that will right the kiss? We’ll pretend like it never happened?”

  I gritted my teeth. “Of all the things in my life I can’t forget, that’s the biggest mistake. I’m doing this because I have to find my family. Her father. I want to find the man who loves me. And what I did with you is my own sin.”

  Shepard shook his head as I turned. “Well, I hope you use gluey-wooey on the poster-wosters so you can save the nailsy-wailsy for the crossy-wossy.”

  Oh, this man was lucky I had a baby in my arms. I stomped my foot. Clue liked that.

  “What is your problem?”

  “It wasn’t you, Evie!” Shepard stalked to my side. “I kissed you. I wanted to kiss you. And it’s my fault. I should have never violated you like that.”

  “Violated?”

  “I’m the one who is supposed to be helping you! Watching out for you. Protecting you!”

  “Yeah? And I’m the one who is supposed to be waiting for my husband or boyfriend or someone to come and find me. And instead?” I looked away. “Instead there was you. And you were there. And you were handsome. And charming.”

  “And a predator.”

  “Goddamn it, Shepard. I was lonely.” The word humiliated me. Shamed me. Mortified me. “I’ve been alone for five weeks. And I got lonely. How pathetic is that?”

  “You think you’re the only one who’s lonely?”

  Shepard shook his head. His breathing roughened, and he spoke in a quiet, desperate curse.

  “I’m lonely too, Evie. You might be lost, but I’m the one who lost everything. I blew it. Ruined it. I fell in love, and I destroyed what I had. You have no idea what it feels like when the love of your life doesn’t realize you exist. When she sees right through you.”

  “Shepard—”

  “I lost the woman of my dreams…and then I found you. And I hate what I did.”

  “You did nothing wrong,” I said. “You aren’t with anyone.”

  “I should’ve honored that memory.”

  “And I was supposed to honor the memories I don’t have anymore.”

  Silence.

  Shepard looked away, leaning on his desk, arms tensed and body straining.

  “You’re so damn
beautiful, Evie.”

  Not this. I couldn’t hear it. Not now.

  “You’re amazing. And kind. And you’re so strong for what you’re doing now.” He looked up. “But you aren’t mine. And I should’ve stopped myself before I made that mistake.”

  “You don’t know how much your words mean to me.”

  “Then accept this apology. I treated you badly, no matter what you think. You’re going to get your memory back, and, once you do, you’ll blame me for what’s happened. And you’ll be right.”

  My stomach twisted.

  I hated this. Hated how we spoke to each other.

  Hated how frightening it was to realize what I had to do.

  “You realize this is the most selfless argument I’ve ever had?” I asked.

  “How would you know?”

  “Call it a hunch.”

  “You just have to be patient,” he said. “The memories will come.”

  “And if they don’t?” I whispered. “Will he come looking for me?”

  “What do you think?”

  “It’s idiotic to sit around, waiting to be rescued.” My voice strengthened. “Someone’s out there for me. Someone wants me.”

  “Yes.”

  “They’re waiting for me.”

  “Everyday.”

  “My family needs me.”

  “And you’ll be everything he’s ever wanted.”

  “But what if I’ve destroyed it?”

  Shepard reached for my hand but stopped himself. He brushed Clue’s cheek instead. “You haven’t ruined anything, Evie. Ever.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  “I know the type of person you are,” he said. “Difficult. Stubborn. Challenging.”

  “Thanks.”

  “You’re the right kind of woman. Rare. Beautiful. And I see that now…because that’s what I lost long ago.”

  “Are you sure you lost it?”

  “I deserved to lose her. But I can’t keep chasing the past. I want the real thing again. I need it. I’ve changed, but every time I see you…”

  I stilled. His voice lowered.

  “Every time I see you, I see her. I see my mistakes. I see what could’ve been…and that’s not fair. Not to me. Not to you.”

  I swallowed. My chest ached, every strike of my heart another beating, another punishment.

  Why did this hurt more than betraying the man in my memories?

  I averted my eyes. “We shouldn’t see each other anymore.”

  Shepard spoke slowly. “Probably not.”

  “This can’t be about me. Clue deserves her father.”

  “I’ll do what I can to help.”

  “You’ve already helped.”

  Clue wiggled against my shoulder, her big eyes staring only at Shepard.

  “She knows your voice,” I said. “She trusts you. That’s been a help. I want to thank you for that.”

  Shepard stared at the baby. He nodded, turned, and straightened the folders on his desk.

  “I’ll let you know if I hear anything,” he said.

  I didn’t answer.

  I didn’t know what to say.

  For the first time, I wondered if I wanted to know what he would discover.

  The memories, the feelings, the instincts.

  The gunshots. The pain. The poverty.

  That wasn’t a life I wanted for my baby.

  Maybe I couldn’t force the amnesia, but I sure as hell could protect my child and ensure she had a better future than whatever hid in my past.

  Those memories were starting to emerge.

  And I couldn’t let my feelings for Shepard stop me from finding the truth.

  8

  The library wasn’t a great place for babies, but the kind, elderly librarian just had her last grandchild go to junior high. I bribed her with a few cuddles, and she let Clue stay at my side while I did my research.

  The endless research.

  Research that jumped into the middle of nothing, scoured through a pile of emptiness, and wasted more time on false leads and silly ideas.

  But at least I did something.

  I closed the hard-bound book. That was it. The last of the 2012 yearbooks for the four largest schools in Ironfield proper. By my closest guess, I was probably twenty-two years old. It was a long shot, but if I scoured enough yearbooks for the city schools, I thought I’d find something familiar.

  Like my face.

  But so far, the search was long, difficult, and endless. Ironfield had fifty-four schools in total, just within the city limits. I could narrow the search—something told me I was never a part of a good school district—but that didn’t make it easier.

  At least it gave me something to do. Some sort of action to take.

  A way to keep my mind off Shepard and the terrible fight that revealed more about our feelings than either of us wanted to share.

  I rubbed my temples. The names and pictures blurred together without even the slightest flash of recognition.

  What else was I supposed to do?

  I’d walked the city over the past week. Twice. Not only was it good for shedding the baby weight, Clue loved the stroller and could sleep through anything, provided we kept moving.

  So I searched.

  And I studied streets.

  I visited parks. Museums. Even strolled around a community college.

  Nothing looked familiar. Hell, I wasn’t sure what I was even looking for. I figured I’d know it when I saw it, but a churning, unwelcomed pit in my stomach whispered all sorts of discouraging thoughts.

  What if you aren’t from Ironfield?

  What if you never find out where you’re from?

  What if all the searching, research, and desperation is all an attempt to forget about Shepard?

  I hated that thought most of all.

  Especially since I knew that’s what Doctor Clark would want to talk about the most.

  The library wasn’t helping today, and I had to rush to get to the psychologist’s office for my weekly check-in.

  More like interrogation.

  But I attended every appointment with an open mind….a feat made easier because I had nothing in my mind, despite this being our sixth visit.

  Doctor Clark waited for us with a warmed mug of tea for me on her desk.

  She gestured to it. “To help you relax.”

  “So it’s going to be that sort of session?”

  Unless she’d loaded the tea with honey, lemon, and a horse tranquilizer, nothing would make our talk easier. Fortunately, I held the mug without shattering it into itty bitty pieces of scalding porcelain.

  “So…” Doctor Clark gave me her patented, soul-sucking smile. “Tell me what you’ve been doing.”

  Kissing a man who wasn’t my child’s father.

  Flirting with a handsome detective who wasn’t my past lover.

  Hating myself for getting so close to someone so perfect for me.

  “Oh, you know.” I shrugged. “The usual.”

  “And how are you feeling?”

  Shamed. Confused. Flustered. “Fantastic. You?”

  “I’ve been better.” Doctor Clark nibbled on the end of her pen. “Frustrating day at work. I’m sure you can understand.”

  Not without a memory of my profession. “I can?”

  “Sure. Go home. Stare at your wall. Ask it to share its feelings with you.” She sipped her own tea. “Let me know if it works out any better for you.”

  “With all due respect, Doctor…can I be the sassy one for a change?”

  “Use whichever defense mechanism you prefer, Evie.”

  “I’ll stick with willful ignorance.”

  Doctor Clark adjusted her glasses. “That’ll do. So…have you done as I asked? Started chronicling anything?”

  “Actually…” I had prepared for this. I pointed to the computer and sent her to a fully prepared, meticulously sorted blog. “I did. Good advice.”

  Doctor Clark scrolled over the website, reading
the headers with moving lips and smirking to herself. “Do You Know Me – The Forgetful Amnesiac.”

  “I was going to go with 101 Lost Memories, but I didn’t want to get too artsy.”

  “Save that for the Pinterest page.”

  “Oh, definitely.”

  “So this blog…” Doctor Clark glanced over the few pictures and entries I’d uploaded. “This is for who, exactly?”

  “Anyone who finds it. I’m hoping someone else could read it, remember what I’m remembering, and realize who I am.”

  “I see.”

  “It’s a long shot.”

  “Possibly.”

  “But at least it’s me doing something. I feel better if I’m active. Keeps me from wondering about all the stuff I’m missing.”

  “What would you be missing?”

  “My family? My life? My job?” I cleared my throat. “My husband or boyfriend. Probably.”

  “Probably?”

  “I mean, definitely.”

  “Do you?”

  I sighed. “You’d be easier to talk to if you didn’t try to find hidden meanings in my words.”

  “And you’d be an easier patient if you were truthful.”

  “I did what you asked,” I said. “I started a blog. Any memory I get…within reason…gets posted.”

  “Which memories aren’t posted?”

  I nodded to the stroller. “Anything that might be age-inappropriate.”

  “Ah. Have you remembered many sexual moments?”

  I shushed her. “No.”

  “No?”

  “Well…I mean…”

  “So you have remembered moments of past intimacy.”

  I so didn’t want to talk about anything intimate. “Nothing major.”

  “I’d consider a memory like that to be very important. Those are the meaningful and emotional and critical moments that will help us overcome this amnesia.”

  “It was just…sexy. That’s all.”

  “With your lover?”

  “It’d be pretty boring if I remembered only myself.”

  She sighed. “With the baby’s father?”

  “Yeah. I think so.”

  “And how did you feel?”

  Exactly as excited, wanton, and desperate as I had in Shepard’s arms, stealing kisses that didn’t belong to me and feigning a life that wasn’t mine.

  “How any woman would feel at that moment,” I said. “I didn’t see his face. I don’t know who he is yet. But I’m working on it.”