by Lucia Ashta
“How can I forget? None of this looks like me. I don’t like a single thing about this place. What the fuck was I doing with my life?”
Sam didn’t even pause when we reached the manager lady, poised on the couch with her legs crossed at the knee. When she saw us, she stood, but Sam walked me right through the door and over to her car.
“You’re starting to let your F-bombs fly. You’re going to be just fine.”
I laughed, but I sounded half crazed to my own ears.
“Next time you see Todd, kick him in the junk. You’ll feel much better about everything.” Sam nodded sagely.
There was the fire I’d always loved about Sam—unless it was directed at me, which it’d been more times than I cared to count. I remembered I was fiery too, but right then I felt like a deflated balloon.
“I’m just hoping I never have to see him again.”
Her voice softened. “I hope for that too. Trust me, I really do.”
She opened the door to the passenger side of her car for me and pulled out before Mom and Dad exited the condo—before I remembered that I was supposed to drive my car home.
I wasn’t sure who I was anymore, only that I was certain I didn’t want to be the woman I’d seen in that condo.
Her, I was glad I’d forgotten.
Her, I never wanted to remember.
There was nothing about her I wanted to get back.
Chapter Twelve
Several weeks passed during which my family and I fell into a routine. Mom continued her fussing, Dad unsuccessfully attempted to conceal his concern for me, and Sam stopped by as often as she could to cheer me up after all the time I spent with our unintentionally overbearing parents. All the friends my seventeen-year-old self expected to have, the kind of close friends who would visit me as I recovered, were no longer a part of my life. I’d dumped them long before I’d dumped Sam, around the time I’d broken up with Jace. I’d replaced family, friends, and boyfriends I loved with ambition, work, and Todd. What a fool.
Despite my disappointment in my choices, I was growing stronger. The incisions had fully closed, though the site was still incredibly tender. Doctor Gibbs had drilled multiple burr holes in my skull. That part of my head would probably never feel the same as it had before. Whenever I examined the scarring, shock hit me at how close I’d come to dying. All because of Todd. Fucking Todd.
Still, I couldn’t entirely blame him. I’d become the kind of person who fell in with people like him. I’d been the one to alienate myself from everyone who truly cared for me—from those who could have seen Todd for what he was and warned me.
My hair had grown in some, making it easier not to think of what happened every time I looked in the mirror. I’d become accustomed to the face I saw reflected back at me, and thanked my blessings every day that I didn’t look all that different than I had at seventeen. Sure, I looked a little more mature, but I still recognized myself. I was still the same me in that one way at least. I continued to look vibrant and young, instilling hope in me that it wasn’t too late to turn my life around.
Todd texted me several times a day, and though I realized I could block him—and spare myself some grief by doing so—a part of me was morbidly curious about the life I’d led before. I’d been confused about why he didn’t try to hide some of my valuables when I didn’t remember what I possessed. His texts soon made it clear he believed I was going to return to him. His behavior was the very definition of narcissism; it didn’t occur to him that I might prefer to move on without him.
“Ready to go?” Mom interrupted my thoughts, leaning against the open door to my bedroom.
I snapped my eyes up from my phone, where I’d been staring without registering what I was seeing. “Yep. Let’s get this over with.”
“It’s just a checkup, nothing to worry about.”
It was just a checkup, and I’d had tons of those lately. But I couldn’t help but worry. I was pretty sure I was suffering from PTSD. Every time Doctor Gibbs examined my head, my entire body clenched and my heart hammered like a crazy drum as I prepared for intense pain outside of my control.
My reaction was extreme, I understood that, but no matter what mental Zen shit I repeated in my mind, it happened every time. So much had been taken from me in a second, in a freak accident, that I didn’t trust that it couldn’t happen again. Todd had pushed me, sure, and if not for him I wouldn’t have been injured. But he hadn’t meant to hurt me. It had been a true accident. One moment I was going about work as usual, and the next I was in a coma.
I didn’t trust life anymore. I feared pain and loss. I was frightened of what could be stolen from me in a blink. Now that I’d gotten my family back, I feared losing them most of all.
It wasn’t reasonable, and I probably needed a crap-ton of therapy, but I didn’t mention my internal torment to anyone. I’d already burdened my family enough with what had happened to me. This was my problem to work through. Surely I could learn to let go of fear and embrace the wild me who’d known instinctively how to live life to the fullest.
Standing, I tucked my phone into my pocket and followed Mom in silence out to her car. Though my Honda was parked at the curb, I hadn’t driven it yet. Even driving seemed dangerous, overly risky. I wasn’t in the mindset to do much of anything.
Mom flicked regular glances at me during the drive but she didn’t talk, seeming to realize I needed the quiet. Her worry mounted as we neared the hospital complex, and though I felt guilty about concerning her, there was nothing I could say to put her at ease that wouldn’t be a lie. And I didn’t want to lie, not to her, not to anyone. I felt like I’d lied to myself for nearly a dozen years. All I wanted now was real, authentic truth. Except at the moment, my truth terrified me.
At the hospital, Mom hooked her arm through mine and walked alongside me as if I were ancient and she was propping me up. In the waiting room, I leaned my head against her shoulder as I’d done as a girl and closed my eyes to the waves of emotion crashing behind them. When we were shown into the exam room to wait some more, I finally broke the silence. Not for me, for her.
“I just want to be the me from before.” The words wobbled as they croaked through my throat, making me feel even weaker. “I want to snap my fingers and wake up. I want to find out this was all some stupid nightmare, and that I’m still my usual seventeen-year-old self. That I’m still happy and carefree and loved … and in love.”
Hot tears swelled when Mom wrapped her arms around me. I shook within her embrace. “I want to erase the last dozen years and get a true start-over.”
She ran a hand over my asymmetrical hair, careful to avoid the site of my injury. “Shh,” she soothed. “It’ll be all right.”
“I don’t see how.” My voice cracked again.
“Just ‘cause you don’t see how doesn’t mean it won’t happen. I’ve never met people as alive as you and Sam. You know how to live your lives the way you’re meant to. You’ll find your way again. You’re not lost, honey, you just think you are right now.”
She ran her hand along the long side of my hair over and over, until the tears ceased to shudder through my chest.
She handed me a tissue. I blew my nose and nodded to convince her I was fine as much as to convince myself.
A quick rap on the door signaled that Doctor Gibbs was entering. There was no time to right myself, and his sharp gaze trailed me and the emotional instability I wore on my sleeve.
“Hi, Rae, Marin,” he said, but his eyes said, “Damn, this girl is broken.”
“I see you’re a bit upset at the moment, Rae,” he continued. “Don’t worry about it, okay? That’s completely normal for what you’ve gone through. Are you upset about anything in particular?”
He studied me, waiting for my answer, but as if I was even younger than seventeen, I deferred to my mother. I might as well have hidden behind her skirts.
“She’s just feeling the depth of how much she’s lost,” Mom said. “She’ll be fine. Rae’
s strong.”
When the doc looked at me, searching for said strength, I offered him a small, tremulous smile, wishing I were anywhere but there, with my sorrow on display.
“How often would you say her emotions have been coming to a head?” he asked my mom. I’d effectively put her in control of this appointment.
“Not often. She’s been doing really great.”
“Have any more memories returned to her since that one about the incident?”
“No, none. Do you expect more to return?”
He studied me some more. “It’s possible, but it’s also possible they might never come back. That one memory she had about her former fiancé pushing her probably only returned because it was so wrapped up in trauma. It isn’t uncommon for the subconscious to give traumatic memories more weight.”
He’d given us a similar explanation during the previous appointment when I’d first told him what I’d remembered.
“The rest of her memories might never return. Or they could come back tomorrow, or when she’s ninety. Statistics don’t really mean much because Rae’s an individual. There’s so much we don’t yet understand about how the brain works, and each individual case will vary. There’s just no way I can predict what will happen in Rae’s case with any accuracy. For now, what’s most important is to control that her healing is proceeding as it should be and that her brain function is healthy—aside from the memories she lost.”
When he approached to examine my head, I did what I could to hide my spiking tension. I had no idea whether I fooled him or not as he didn’t comment.
Satisfied that my healing was progressing nicely, he took a seat on a swiveling stool and trained clinical eyes on me, unnerving me the rest of the way. “Have you noticed any other cognitive impairment? Do you ever have trouble remembering words you’re trying to say? Or do they scramble when you read?”
“No,” I answered.
“Does your vision ever blur, cloud around the edges, or otherwise distort?”
“No.”
“Have you forgotten anything recent? Any issues with your short-term memory?”
When I answered, he glanced at my mom for confirmation. “No,” she echoed. “Nothing unusual.”
“Do you still remember everything from the time you were seventeen and before?”
“Everything,” I said. “I feel like I’m seventeen and I should be going to high school. That’s what’s the most confusing, I think, coalescing the life I feel I should be leading with the one I find myself in.”
“That’s perfectly understandable.” He stared at me for another few beats like he was trying to see into my brain. “Anything else of note?”
“No.”
“Anything unusual at all, even if you don’t think it’s pertinent? Sometimes seemingly irrelevant facts can hint at a problem.”
“Do you expect there to be problems?” Mom asked right away.
He smiled to soften his previous lack of tact. “No, not at all. Rae’s progressing very well. She’s healing at the rate of a teenager, perhaps because in her mind that’s exactly what she is.”
“Oh, that’s good.” Mom sighed in relief.
“It’s great. Years of experience have just taught me it’s wise to cover all the bases … just in case.”
“I see,” Mom said tightly, so I chimed in.
“I really do feel great. There are no other issues. Just the confusion about how I’m supposed to feel as a seventeen-year-old who isn’t a seventeen-year-old. My vision’s great, memory’s great, I feel great.”
Except I didn’t. Not in my heart. Not where it most mattered. But that wasn’t an issue for Doctor Hottie, who looked to be around thirty. I wondered if I would have been checking him out if I felt his age instead of feeling like he was so much older than me.
But no, the main reason I wasn’t checking him out was because there was only one man I was attracted to in a way that mattered right then. And by all accounts I’d smashed his heart to smithereens.
I tuned out when the doc offered his usual warnings to call the office if there were any changes. When he left, I offered him a final meek smile. I briefly hoped I’d never have to see him again, until we stopped at the receptionist’s desk to make an appointment for six weeks from then for another follow-up.
On the drive home, Mom clasped my hand. “Are you feeling okay now, sweetie?”
“I’m going to get myself together.” I sucked in some determination. “I can’t stand myself like this anymore. I’m ready to live again.”
I was terrified to really live again, but I figured that must mean it was all the more reason to do it.
“I’m so glad to hear that, honey,” she commented, unaware of the extent of my inner turmoil. “I know you’ll start feeling really great once you let go of the injury. It happened, and there’s nothing we can do to change that. I’m thankful every single day you’re still here with us. And now you get the opportunity to build your life back up again, this time exactly the way you want it.”
“Yeah.” I bit my lip.
“Not many people get the chance to learn from their mistakes and make a better life from scratch. You do, and I just know you’ll make the most of it. You always make the most of everything. You make the most of life, and that’s a gift, Rae honey, that’s a true gift.”
I nodded absently, funneling her encouragement deep inside me where I needed it most.
“Where are you going to start?”
I answered without thinking. “I’m going to tell the law firm I’m never going back, and I’m going to ask them to recommend an attorney to divide up the condo I have with Todd.”
Mom flicked a quick glance at me before redirecting her attention to the road. “Are you sure about that? Not the condo part. I can’t wait for you to be through with Todd.”
I arched my brow at Todd’s former number-one fan.
“I mean the law firm part. Honey, you worked really hard to get where you are in your career. I know it might not feel like it now, but you were really excited about how close you were getting to making partner. It’s all you wanted. Are you sure you want to give all that up?”
“It doesn’t feel like I’d be giving up much. I think I have to. I don’t even remember anything I learned in law school and the practice. I can’t be a lawyer right now. And you heard Doctor Gibbs, I might never remember things. But it’s more than that. I don’t want to be a lawyer. I don’t want to go back to the life I had. Not any of it. I don’t like that life. It’s not me.”
She nodded slowly, taking it all in. After a minute of quiet, she asked, “You’re totally sure?”
“I am.”
“Then what are you going to do? At least you finished paying off your student loans already—but what are you going to do if you don’t work? And so you know, you can stay home with your father and me as long as you want. You don’t have to do anything until you’re one hundred percent ready for it.”
“I can’t just stay home with you, Ma, but thanks. I’m going to find out more about what Sam would want me to do if I join her at her company.”
“You’d work with Sam?” Mom sounded shocked.
I shrugged, pretending my mouth wasn’t moving faster than my mind could catch up. “If I want to reclaim my life, it seems like a good step. I’ll need a job once I quit the firm, and working with Sam will be safe.”
“Um, I don’t know about safe. Did she tell you what she does for these people she organizes adventures for?”
“Not really.”
“Well, then, maybe you should get all the details before you consider signing up with her.”
“Don’t worry, I will.” But now that I was moving faster than my fears, I was pretty sure I was decided. It made so much sense. Sam understood my situation, so she wouldn’t be pushing me more than I was ready for. I wouldn’t have to explain my condition to anyone new. And I loved Sam. She was fun. She’d be the perfect reminder of what I was working to reclaim.
&
nbsp; Before I could convince myself not to say it, I blurted, “I’m also going to go talk to Jace.”
“Jace?” Surprise colored Mom’s reaction again.
“Yeah, Jace. To me, we’re still together. I’m in love with him.”
“Oh, honey, it’s been so long for him, and after how you ended things…”
“Yeah, I know, you don’t think he’ll want me back.”
“What he wants and what he’ll do are two very different things.”
With that cryptic comment, I closed my eyes for the rest of the drive. I might have broken Jace’s heart, but I didn’t want him to break mine. It would only be fair if he did.
Chapter Thirteen
~ Jace ~
“Dammit!”
I was down in the garage working on an Indian bike that was almost as sweet as my own when the growled cry rang across the open bays. It was followed by the kind of loud clang that came from one of my mechanics tossing whatever tool they were using onto the polished cement floor.
I knew the sound too well and I instinctively cringed every time I heard it. We didn’t toss our tools unless we were pissed.
I’d known all my mechanics for years; we were either related to each other or had gone to high school together. It’s what happened in a smallish town like ours. But just because I’d run with them all when we were younger didn’t mean they didn’t know what they were doing.
My motorcycle mechanics were some of the best in the state. We’d grown up working on bikes, refurbishing whatever heap of junk we could get our hands on and turning it into something beautiful—or a ride that was at least beautiful to us. The love of bikes was in my blood, and the men I surrounded myself with shared my passion. We’d studied and learned until we’d mastered the art of motorcycles.
I carefully placed the fuel tank I’d been fiddling with on a tray and wiped my hands on a rag before making my way over to the bike Robby was working on. The rest of my mechanics—including Alex, who’d finally started showing up for work again—already circled Robby and the bike.