While They Watch

by Sosie Frost

  “I told you, Evie.” Shepard held my gaze. “I want you.”

  “Then this had to happen. I had to do the interview.”

  “And endanger yourself? You’ve given every creep in this city your picture and medical history.” He pointed to the baby in my arms, and I wrapped Clue up a little tighter. “You’ve told every criminal, every pervert, every asshole in the world that you’re alone with an infant.”

  “At least I’m trying. It’s a risk to find the truth.”

  “And what happens when you learn it? When you have your past and answers and memories, and everything we have is…gone.”

  “I did this for my future, Shepard.”

  “Will I be in it?”

  I swallowed. “I…I don’t know. I hope so. I just wanted—”

  His voice hollowed. “The answer is no.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  “Yes. I do.” His honesty sliced through me with a sincerity I didn’t understand. “You want to know the truth, Evie? You didn’t have a perfect life. You didn’t have a perfect boyfriend or father for your baby. You didn’t have a little house with a white picket fence, dog, and paperboy. Your life was hard, and I can guarantee you wanted to forget your past when you still remembered it.”

  “Don’t you dare.”

  “But I could give you the life you wanted. I’d keep you safe. Be with you. Take care of you and the baby. I could have been that man, Evie.”

  “What’s stopping you?”

  “The truth. The past. Everything you want to find, and every way you’re trying to do it. I’m here if you want me…but the instant you remember what you had…” He shook his head. “You won’t want a goddamned thing to do with me.”

  “How can you say that?”

  “I gotta go to work.”

  “You’re leaving?”

  Shepard spread his arms. “Someone’s gotta clear the streets of the assholes who’d take advantage of naïve women like you.”

  “Naïve?”

  “Don’t wait up for me—I’m working late tonight.”

  He’d be lucky if I let him back in the apartment. “Well…maybe I’ll call you. Let you know what I learned about myself once people see this news report.”

  “Yeah…” His voice darkened. “I hope you find everything you’ve been looking for.”

  The door slammed behind him.

  I looked at Clue. “What the hell just happened?”

  She didn’t have an answer, just a gummy grin as she attempted to somersault backwards to cram her foot in her mouth.

  The interview still blasted from the TV. I turned it off before the news ruined any more of my morning.

  Or past.

  Or future.

  Shepard was wrong.

  Why didn’t he understand what I was searching for? It wasn’t just a family anymore. The confused, desperate, and agonized part of me wasn’t searching for a past lover.

  I looked for a way to be with him.

  “Your momma is an idiot,” I whispered to Clue. She agreed with a delighted shriek. “Should I go get him?”

  Clue didn’t offer a tremendous amount of insight, but some sage wisdom leaked out beside the drool. She was a bundle of giggles in basket of smiles, but my heart hurt.

  How much happier could she be if Shepard were there? Forever? Holding her. Smiling with her. Taking care of her.

  Loving her?

  How much happier would I be?

  Could anything from my past ever equate to what I had with Shepard? My fractured memories told a terrible and tragic story—a hard life in a dangerous neighborhood, guns and violence, crimes and poverty.

  What was there to dig up that wasn’t already cast away, rotten in the gutter of discomfort, disarray, and disaster?

  What would I really find if I kept looking? A name? A history?

  Or the worst case scenario? A lonely, terrible past that would yield into a wonderful future?

  Clue needed to be fed and changed, and my curls threatened to overwhelm my head. The least I could do was get both of us looking presentable and then…

  Find Shepard? Apologize?

  Confess the truth to him?

  I hauled Clue up, earning a giggle as part of sweeping her into my arms now required a firm raspberry blown directly in the center of her pudgy tummy.

  My phone rang before I made it to the bedroom.

  “There’s Shepard now…” I told her. “Calling to apologize for the tantrum, right?”

  She agreed, chewing on her fist in a desperate plea for less apologies and more boob. I adjusted her onto my hip, coughing as she attempted to choke me on the dangling bit of my scarf.

  I answered with an Ow instead of a hello.

  “Evie?”

  It wasn’t Shepard. A tinny female voice spoke through a speakerphone, a dozen other lines ringing behind her. I frowned.

  “Yes?”

  “This is Bonnie from WTEA? I’m an intern for the station. I have some good news.”

  My stomach sunk.

  Since when did good news make me sick?

  “It’s wonderful!” Bonnie’s voice warmed, like a smile nearly ripped her face in half. “We had someone call about you!”

  My heart shattered. “Who?”

  “Evie—we found your fiancé!”

  15

  “Shepard, if you get this message…” I checked the time. “Or any of the last four I sent you...please call me back. Something’s happened. Just…check your damn phone.”

  If he hadn’t answered my calls last night, and he wasn’t answering now, he probably wouldn’t check his messages until later.

  And who knew what would happen then.

  What I would remember.

  What I’d regret.

  I ended the call and banged the corner of the phone into my forehead.

  What did I do now?

  I had no idea what I was supposed to wear when meeting—reconnecting?—with my fiancé and father of my child.

  Was it better to go casual? I tugged on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. That looked like I didn’t take this seriously. I tried a skirt instead. It came off immediately. Best to not wear something that reminded me of how easy it’d been to open my legs. Slacks didn’t scream comfort, but a bit of formality was in order. Good for an apology.

  Bad for a family.

  A family.

  How could I have everything I’d ever wanted and still feel like the world had ripped it all away?

  Jeans it was. Better to be comfortable in case my entire world tilted once more on its axis and everything raged back to me in one unceremonious wallop.

  At least the baby looked cute. Little pink dress. White shoes. Pink bow.

  Shoot.

  Clue slept in her crib, though she gave me a displeased snort as I removed the bow and stuffed it in my pocket. That had been a gift from Shepard. Talk about awkward…the word I used when damning, reprehensible, and disgusting no longer cut it.

  I let her sleep. Plenty to talk about with my fiancé without waking her from the nap. Like…where he had been. What had happened to keep us separated for so long.

  What his damn name was.

  All things I hoped would be revealed after he knocked at the door.

  Maybe.

  Hopefully.

  My breathing shallowed. Almost panicking.

  But this was good. This was what I’d wanted.

  Behind the door was my true life and love, and, after six months, it was time that we found each other again.

  So why was I so terrified to open the door?

  I took a breath.

  I did not expect a black man.

  His skin was even darker than my own—a rich and deep black. He was handsome with natural hair twisted into tight corn rows. He had a strong nose. A sensual smile. Dark, chestnut eyes. Thick eyebrows.

  And he leaned against the door frame as if he had come to pick me up a dozen times from my before.

  Jeans were the right
choice. He wore his loose. The designer label complimented his very red tennis shoes.

  Also the red watch on his wrist.

  The red earrings in his ears.

  Did he really show up in colors?

  I stared at him—this strong man made of muscles and sheepish smiles. He watched me too, giving a full-on chuckle at my surprise.

  “Evie Hamilton.” He grinned. “Look at you, girl.”

  I had absolutely no recollection of this man.

  My stomach bunched. I pinched my eyes shut and forced every thought, doubt, and worry from my head. I searched under every cobweb and corner in my brain to find those lost memories.

  They didn’t come.

  And the disappointment nearly drove me to my knees.

  “Hi.” The hope drained from me. “I…”

  “Nice place.” He didn’t bother with introductions. Then again, we had known each other for a long time. Presumably. “Shit. They set you up good.”

  “Yeah…” I closed the door, the click of the latch a final strike to shatter the remnants of my heart. “This apartment a bit more than I expected.”

  “Damn right. Ain’t never had anything this good.”

  Oh. Well. That reaffirmed my one intuition.

  I rubbed my temples. I could remember every lyric to the silly songs I found for Clue online, but nothing about this man. Somewhere between Puff the Magic Dragon and the Guacamole Song existed a memory that I just couldn’t summon.

  “You remember me?” He didn’t bother waiting before scoping out the rest of the apartment. “They said you got hurt real bad.”

  I led him into the kitchen, but the hair prickled on my neck. I blocked his path before he headed down the hall to the nursery.

  I arched an eyebrow. “A gentleman introduces himself.”

  “Ha, whatchu playing? I ain’t no gentleman.”

  Obviously. “I’m sorry. I don’t remember anything…including you.”

  “That’s a shame.”

  “No…that’s your cue to help me.”

  “I’m no head doc.” Satisfied with the apartment, he sunk onto my couch and tossed his muddy shoes on my coffee table. I swatted his foot. He swore as he returned them to the ground. “Same old, Evie. Still getting on my shit.”

  I gritted my teeth.

  This was the man who could return my memories to me?

  I couldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth, not when I was staring at a jackass.

  I stopped playing polite. “What’s your name?”

  “Darnell.”

  Fantastic. I sucked in a breath. Darnell. Darnell. Darnell.

  Nothing. The name did nothing for me.

  “And I’m…?” I shrugged at him. “Who am I?”

  “Evie. Damn girl. You really fucked your head.”

  “And you’re my…”

  “They give you money to live here?” He glanced around. “You got a job?”

  “I have a baby,” I said. “And no identification. No social security number. No name. Nothing.”

  “No reward?”

  “For what?”

  “I don’t know. Finding you.”

  “I’m your reward!”

  “Sure.”

  My stomach turned. This wasn’t right.

  No romance. No flowers. No memories.

  No heartfelt pleas and hugs and desperate kisses.

  Not even a question about his daughter.

  His considerably lighter-skinned daughter.

  “So…” I crossed my arms. “We were dating?”

  “On and off.” He winked. “Always came back to me. Only I could give you what you needed, baby.”

  Unless it was a lobotomy, I wasn’t believing it. I had a little respect for myself. “So…where have you been?”

  “Home.”

  I sucked in a breath. “Okay…why didn’t you come looking for me? It’s been six months since my accident.”

  “I don’t know. We broke it off. Was I supposed to look for you?”

  “I was pregnant.”

  “Yeah.”

  That was it? He said nothing else?

  I boiled, but I didn’t blow. Not yet.

  “So we’ve dated then?” I waited for him to nod. “Where are we from?”

  “Ironfield.” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “Not this block. Ain’t got penthouses where you belong, baby girl.”

  Great. “Where’s my family?”

  “What family?”

  “My mother? Father?”

  He laughed. “You really did fuck your shit up. You don’t got a family.”

  “None?”

  “Your daddy ran off. Momma drank herself to death.” He pointed at me. “You had Granna…until she was gone too.”

  Granna.

  Jesus.

  I sunk into the chair, head foggy. He knew Granna?

  Oh God. Then he must have known me.

  “You remember her though.” He grinned. “Everyone did.”

  “Where…is she?”

  “Dead.”

  The thought broke my heart, and I didn’t know why. “Oh.”

  “Fuck, Evie. You don’t remember that either?”

  “No.”

  “Good.” His tone shifted—cold and accusatory. “Cause it’s your fault.”

  “What?”

  “Fucking cops. Got in her house. Found someone else’s weed. Busted her.”

  “But…”

  “All them kids she helped? Feeding ‘em? Clothing ‘em?” Darnell scowled. “Fuck. Back on the street.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Good thing you got out. She wouldn’t have wanted you whoring your ass on the corner to get by.”

  “I’m not a whore.”

  “Yeah. Cause she was there. Cause she took you in. Cause she helped you.” Darnell laughed. “She got you out…then you fucked us all over.”

  “I didn’t—” I frowned. “How?”

  “Who sent the cops, Evie?”

  “I don’t remember.”

  “We do.”

  I stood, pacing the living room. Granna dead? Arrested? The facts entered my mind and immediately dissolved into misty confusion.

  The only memories I had of her were good. She was a sweet, kind, fiery lady.

  I would never have hurt her.

  I would never have hurt anyone.

  Why would I have sent the police?

  And how the hell could I have loved a man as crass and rude as him?

  This was all wrong. None of it made sense.

  “Are you hungry?” I forced the words out. “I’ll order us a pizza.”

  “Whatever.”

  “What do you want on it?”

  “Cheese.”

  “Anything else?”

  Darnell stretched out on the couch. “No.”

  “Pineapple?”

  “That’s some bullshit, baby.”

  My hackles rose. This wasn’t right. Not at all.

  I used to fight the man from my memories for that last slice of pizza. We’d flip a coin for it. Rock/Paper/Scissors. Guilt each other.

  I sucked in a breath. “So…we dated a long time?”

  “Yeah. You liked the D.”

  Yeah. D for Doubtful. “Did we used to go out?”

  “With what money?”

  I swallowed. “But like…we had to do something. Dates. Did I live with you?”

  “We crashed sometimes.”

  “What about Friday nights?”

  “What about it?”

  “Did we do anything special?”

  “Fuck.”

  That wasn’t the answer I hoped for. “What?”

  “Ain’t that special?”

  “Yeah, cause a night with you must have been filled with Hallmark moments.”

  He shrugged. “You got full of something.”

  “What about when we got pregnant?”

  He snorted. “Yeah. That was a problem.”

  “A problem?”


  “Ain’t it always?”

  No.

  Not at all. Not what I remembered.

  We had been excited. Thrilled. I remembered his arm curling over my belly, pressing where our baby had begun to grow. We’d kissed. Made plans.

  Made love.

  “Weren’t we happy?” I asked.

  “I don’t know.” He shrugged but sensed my frustration. “Yeah. Yeah, you were. Got all excited about the kid.”

  “Really.”

  “All you talked about.”

  I knocked his feet off the coffee table. “Did I get the nursery ready?”

  “We didn’t have room for a nursery.”

  Lies.

  “But I must have prepared.” I frowned. “Did we have a name picked out?”

  Darnell grinned. “Junior.”

  “Junior?”

  “Yeah. After his old man.”

  He was lying.

  Six months ago, I awoke in the hospital, nearly flattened by the truck, covered with pink paint. I had been working on a nursery for a little girl.

  I pulled Clue’s ribbon from my pocket, letting the pink flowers on the band dangle before his face.

  “Junior, huh?” I stepped closer, practically snarling. “I’ll give you ten seconds to get the fuck out of my home.”

  Darnell swore. “Okay. Evie, wait.”

  “Ten.”

  “I’m not your fiancé.”

  “Nine.” I pointed at the door. “Eight.”

  “I thought there’d be a reward.”

  “Seven.”

  “Shit. Let me explain.”

  “Get the hell out.”

  “You really don’t remember me?”

  “I’m going to call the cops.”

  His smile faded. “Yeah. That I believe. You’re good at that.”

  “I don’t know who the hell you are, but if you ever come near me again, I swear to God, I’ll send you straight to hell.”

  “Don’t gotta do that.” He extended his arms and walked to the door. “Hell is where the heart is now…thanks to you. Granna’s gone. There ain’t no safe place on the block.” He waved a hand over my apartment. “At least you can rest your pretty head good tonight. If you can sleep after what you did. You’re fucking lucky you don’t remember the shit you pulled.”

  “Three, two, one. Get out.”

  “Just know…we sure as hell remember you.” Darnell grinned. “And ain’t no one coming back, ain’t no one looking for a traitor like you.”

  Darnell didn’t fight me. He swore as I slammed the door on him, catching his heel against the wood. I didn’t care. I locked the door and threw the chain over it, slamming a hand against the frame as he laughed from the hall.