Clean Slate

by Andrea Bramhall

  “Not really. They have no idea if or when that’s likely to happen.” Morgan smiled weakly at her. “They’re not exactly encouraging. They don’t seem to know too much about all this brain stuff.” She shrugged. “The one who looks like an extra from Point Break just keeps saying ‘the brain’s tricky.’”

  Erin couldn’t help but laugh a little. “I know. How can I help?” Erin knew she’d made a mistake the moment the words left her mouth. It was an opportunity for Morgan to ask the questions that were burning so clearly in her eyes.

  “Tell me why you want to help me?”

  How do I answer that one without overloading her with information? Hasn’t she had enough to deal with already today?

  “We’ve known each other a long time, Morgan. There’s a lot of…we’ll cover it another time. When you’ve gotten over the shock of all this.” We’ll cover it another time? What the hell happened to only being involved because of the kids?

  “Gotten over the shock? Somehow I don’t think a cup of hot, sweet tea and a blanket’s going to cut it, do you?”

  “Look, the doctors have said not to dump too much information on you all at once. That you need time to adjust, bit by bit.”

  “But you aren’t giving me any info—”

  “For now, can you please just accept that we’ve known each other for a long time and that we care about each other? Isn’t that enough of a reason for someone to be here with you when you’re like this?” She watched as Morgan frowned, obviously thinking it over.

  “So we’re friends?”

  Friends, lovers, partners, spouses, exes. Where do I start? “Yeah, we’re friends.”

  “All right then.”

  “Good. Now should we have a look in the bag and see what’s here?”

  “Can I ask you another question?”

  Jesus, what next? “Sure.”

  “What happened to my mum? And where’s my dad?”

  And that would be next. “Your mum died—”

  “You already told me that. How?”

  “I don’t think this is the right time for this, sweetie.”

  “But you do know?”

  “Yes.”

  “Were you there?”

  Erin shook her head. “No, it happened before we met.”

  “So I, like, told you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then you should tell me. It was my story.”

  “I will. Just not today, okay?”

  “No, I—”

  “Morgan, I promise I will tell you when you’re out of the hospital and we can have some privacy. But not here. Not now.” Erin grabbed the magazine out of the bag and tossed it over to her. “Please?”

  Morgan picked up the magazine and gasped at the front cover. “He’s married? Prince William was in primary school last time I saw pictures of him. Was the wedding beautiful? I bet Diana looked stunning…what?”

  “Sweetie, there’s a whole lot of history you’re missing. Let’s start with the general knowledge stuff and see if anything rings any bells.”

  Chapter Five

  Morgan ached all over. She tried to get comfortable, but pain radiated from her right shoulder or her ribs, pulling her up short. She pushed her fingers through her hair, grateful the bandage around her head was gone, wishing she could wash away the remnants of blood that stuck to her scalp and flaked onto her pillow.

  She picked up the remote control and turned off the TV. She had the news playing constantly for the past three days. Images of wars, death, and destruction filled the screen. British athletes held up medals from the Olympics…in London. Flash floods up and down the UK washed away people’s belongings and destroyed homes. America has a black president, and Prince Harry is flashing his bits after playing strip billiards. Billiards? Get with it, Harry. It’s supposed to be poker—or strip Twister! I’m pretty sure I remember playing that at some point.

  She replayed every moment of her life. Every childhood memory. Every school friend and teacher. Conversations, books she’d read, films she’d seen. Nothing sparked a memory from beyond nineteen ninety-two. Nothing seemed familiar now. Well, nothing except Erin. Who the hell is Erin? Why was she here? Why does she feel like the only thing that’s real anymore?

  The door swung open.

  “Holy shit! What happened to you!” Morgan couldn’t help staring. In the doorway stood her oldest friends. But they looked…different.

  “The same thing that happened to you, shit for brains. We got old.”

  Morgan couldn’t help but smile. Now that’s familiar!

  “Haven’t you looked in a mirror?” Nikki crossed the room and wrapped her arms around Morgan’s shoulders before she could say anything else.

  “No, they said not to yet.”

  “Oh, we’ll have to sort that out then. Now, don’t go getting excited.” She kissed Morgan’s cheek. “This doesn’t mean that I like you. But the missus told me to be nice to you ’cos you feel like shit.” She pointed a thumb over her shoulder, then let go and straightened up. “Gotta tell ya, you look like shit too. They did a proper job on you, didn’t they?”

  “Yeah, feels like it. You all right, Amy?”

  “So you remember us then?” Amy leaned forward and kissed Morgan’s cheek.

  “Yeah. Everything’s, like, in place up until we started uni. Then it’s just, like, nothing. Did I finish uni? What job did I do? What about you guys? I mean you’re here so we’re, like, all still friends, right?”

  “Oh my God. Did we really sound like that?” Nikki dropped heavily into one of the chairs. “No wonder my mother was always telling us to stop saying ‘like.’ It’s bloody annoying.”

  “You two did. I spoke proper English, like a good girl.” Amy grinned.

  “Yeah, look at you now.”

  “Hey!” Amy glared at Nikki.

  “Okay, crap English aside, I really need to know stuff, you guys.”

  “Yeah, we heard. So how old are you in the last things you remember?”

  “Well, I remember us all moving into the halls of residence. And us all being in the same room. And I think I remember the first term. Did we have a lecturer that always wore purple? Either purple pants, or a skirt, or something. And I mean, like, all the time?”

  Nikki grinned again. “Yep, Ms. Sharpe. Very lovely lady. You had a huge crush on h—”

  “What? No, I didn’t.” Morgan felt her heart beginning to race, and her palms were sweaty. No one knew she was gay. It was a secret. She wanted to tell her mum first. Before anyone else found out about her.

  “Course you did. We all did.” Nikki waggled her eyebrows comically.

  “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Sure I do. I mean all three of us had a crush on her, M. We talked about it.”

  “You’re talking out of your arse.” Morgan glared at Nikki who frowned in confusion.

  “Morgan, wait. Listen.” Amy put her hand over Morgan’s arm. “Stop a minute. It doesn’t matter that you had a crush on your teacher. It was a long time ago, and so much has changed.”

  “Oh Christ. She doesn’t remember the open door party.” Nikki slapped her hand across her eyes.

  “The what?” Morgan stared at her.

  “We had an open door party after we all got back from Christmas break at uni.” Amy said and rubbed gentle circles over Morgan’s arm.

  “What the hell is an open door party?”

  “We all opened the door to the closet.” Nikki sat back in her chair and waited.

  What the hell is she waiting for? Opened the door to what clos—Oh, fuck. It’s not just me!

  Morgan stared, eyes wide, jaw slack, and her mind whirling. “Both of you, too?”

  “Yes.” Amy smiled and took hold of Nikki’s hand. “We’ve been together pretty much ever since.”

  Nikki lifted Amy’s hand and kissed the back of it. “My missus.”

  “Shit.” Morgan watched them grinning at each other. The love between them was so obvious
she couldn’t help but smile too. But she couldn’t get her head around what they were telling her. “Everyone knows about me? It’s not a secret anymore?”

  “No. Hasn’t been a secret for a long time.”

  She was playing catch up about even the most intimate details of her life. The secrets she held close to her heart were common knowledge to everyone around her, and she hadn’t had time to adjust. One thought played over and over in her head.

  “Did my mum know? Before she died?” Morgan twisted the blanket around her fingers, needing to know the answer, but dreading it just the same.

  Nikki and Amy exchanged glances before Nikki stared at the floor and Amy’s eyes welled with tears. “Yes, she did. And she was okay with it. She was glad that you were happy.” She wiped at the tears with one hand. “All she wanted was for you to be happy.”

  “I remember that. She used to say it all the time. That I had to do whatever made me happy, because life was hell if you’re miserable. For everyone.”

  “Little ray of sunshine, wasn’t she!” Nikki scrunched her face up.

  “Nikki!”

  “What?” Nikki held up her hands in a helpless gesture.

  “It’s okay, she was bloody depressing.” Morgan’s lips twitched in the faintest hint of a smile.

  “See. Nothing wrong with your memory.” Nikki winked.

  “Tell me some of the happy stuff I’ve missed.”

  “Well since we’ve known you the longest, we figured we’d start at uni. You did pass, by the way.” Nikki tugged on her collar slightly, then buffed her nails on her shirt as she said, “You copied all my notes and finished second in the class.”

  “If she copied your notes, how come you only ended up top ten percent of the class? Idiot.” Amy shook her head at Nikki’s crestfallen face before turning back to Morgan. “You ended up teaching art at college.”

  A teacher? How the hell did I end up as a teacher? I never wanted that. “So I never made it as an artist?”

  “Well…” Amy started.

  “Stuff happened and you kind of lost your…passion to be an artist.” Nikki’s cheeks paled as she spoke.

  “It feels like you’re walking on eggshells and you have no idea what to say or tell me because you don’t know where it’s going to lead next. What question it’s going to spark, that you have, like, no idea how to answer. By stuff, do you mean after my mum died?” Nikki nodded. “Okay, I get that. And I’m guessing you’re under orders not to tell me what happened to her yet, just like Erin.”

  “The doctors and Erin think it’s best to take this a little bit at a time. I mean they probably have a point, don’t you think?” Amy perched on the bed and reached for Morgan’s hand again.

  “Yeah, probably. But they aren’t the ones who are scared, frustrated as hell, and have no clue who they are. They just keep saying a little bit at a time, and then show me newspapers and magazines. I can see how much everything’s fucking changed. I don’t need to keep watching the news or reading headlines for that. I mean, like, how the fuck did terrorists manage to bring down the Twin Towers? We were going to go there after we finished our first year. We were going to go to New York and see a show, and go up the towers, and the Empire State Building—”

  “We did go.” Nikki reached for a backpack and pulled out a photograph album. She turned pages until she was pointing to a picture of the two of them, arms slung around each other’s shoulders, grinning into the camera. The backdrop had the Statue of Liberty behind them, and the Twin Towers in the background. “It was a great trip.”

  Morgan stared at the image and the self that she recognized stared back at her. She ran her finger over the plastic covered page and tried to bring up a memory to tie it to her. To make it concrete, real, something solid that she could grasp on to, but there was nothing. No feeling flickered at the thought of having been there, with her best friends, on the trip she and Nikki had dreamed of taking since they were children. Only frustration bubbled as she reached deeper into the void that had once been filled with a life. Her life. “Our dream trip that you remember and I don’t. I don’t know who I am.”

  Amy squeezed her hand gently. “You do know who you are—”

  “No, I don’t.”

  “Yes, you do.”

  “No, I don’t. You just said I was a teacher. I don’t even remember finishing fucking uni. I’m not a teacher!” The frustration she’d been fighting erupted into an explosion of anger and resentment. “I don’t remember any of it. I don’t remember me—her—whatever. I’m not her. I’m not your Morgan! I can’t be!”

  Amy tugged her hand. “The Morgan we know and love came from the same place as you.”

  “But I’m not her.”

  “Maybe not. But you’re the same Morgan that we knew twenty years ago.” Nikki leaned forward in her chair. “The same one who became a teacher—and a whole lot of other stuff too.”

  “I’m not—”

  “You’re not what? The same?” Nikki shook her head. “Everyone changes, M.”

  “Changes? This isn’t even in the same league as a fucking change. My whole life is gone—”

  “Really? You remember who you are up to a certain point, Morgan. You remember your whole childhood, don’t you?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “But nothing. Sure, you’ve got a lot of catching up to do, but you aren’t starting from scratch.”

  “You’ve got no idea, Nikki. None. I can’t remember my mother dying. I can’t remember her funeral. I’m assuming that I went. But I don’t remember it. How can I be the Morgan you know—that you knew—when I remember nothing that made her who she was?” Morgan was shouting, but she didn’t care. “I’m not her. I can’t be her. I don’t even know where to start.”

  “M, you aren’t alone. Me, Amy, Erin, the ki—and loads of other people, all want to help you get your memory back.”

  “And if it doesn’t come back?”

  “Then we’ll all do everything we can to help you adjust and make more memories. Maybe even better ones. We’ve got the perfect excuse to go back to New York then, don’t ya think?”

  “Why can you never let me feel fucking sorry for myself?”

  Nikki laughed. “’Cos some things never change, M.”

  Amy pushed her hair behind her ears and fiddled with the blanket. “So when are they letting you out of here?”

  “I don’t know yet. They need to make sure I’ll be okay on my own, and since I don’t remember what my house is like, I can’t tell them if I’m capable of managing. Erin didn’t know what my place was like, either. I thought that was a bit odd, since she said we were friends, and we’ve known each other a long time, but—why are you looking like that?” Morgan’s frustration grew as they exchanged looks again. “I’m getting really sick of everybody knowing what’s going on except me.”

  “The place you were staying at was a really temporary place. It was very small and a bit…erm…well, a bit crappy to be honest. You were only staying there while you were sorting some stuff out.” Amy held up her hands to stave off the questions. “Which I will tell you all about once you’re out of here. Okay?”

  Morgan frowned, and turned the page of the album. A picture of the three of them smiled back at her. She and Nikki both had hair full of gel to create that bedhead look they both craved. Nikki’s eyebrow piercing twinkled in the sunlight, and Amy’s long blond hair blew in the breeze. They all looked so young. So alive and carefree. She noted the tightness around the eyes of her younger self; the sadness in them that even her smile couldn’t erase.

  “I need to see what I look like.” She pulled her eyes from the page and looked at Amy. “Please, I need to see.”

  Amy lifted her bag from the floor and rummaged until she pulled out her compact. “It’s a little small, but it’ll have to do for now.” She handed it over.

  “Remember, M, you’ve been beaten up. Your eyes are black, and you look like shit.” Nikki leaned forward in her chair, elbows resting o
n her knees. “That makes everything else look worse, okay?”

  “You telling me I’m ugly?” Morgan fiddled with the catch.

  “Why change the habit of a lifetime?” Nikki grinned, but her eyes were serious.

  She clicked the clasp open, then closed again. “Have I had any disfiguring injuries?”

  “No. Just twenty years of living.”

  “Then it can’t be all that bad.” Morgan grinned at Nikki. “I didn’t keel over when I saw you after all.”

  “Fair point.” She pointed to the compact. “You gonna open it or do I have to do it for you?”

  “I got it.” She released the catch and raised the lid. The small circular mirror was far from ideal as she tried to find the right angle to see her whole face and found herself stretching. Oh my God! My arms aren’t long enough!

  Nikki sniggered as Amy handed her a pair of glasses.

  “Oh you’ve got to be shitting me!”

  “It’s only for seeing things close up. Like reading and drawing and stuff like that,” Amy said.

  Morgan frowned as she unfolded the glasses and slipped them onto her face. Jesus, no wonder I was struggling to read all those magazines and newspapers. I thought it was the damn brain fucked-up-ness. Instead, I’m just fucking old!

  She lifted the mirror again and gasped. It was her face, but it wasn’t. The same sharp cheekbones and straight nose, full lips and strong jawline. But there were faint lines beside her mouth and softness to her jaw that hadn’t been there before. Her hair was missing in patches and the stitches formed a neat uniform row across the red slice in her scalp. She shifted the mirror to look at her eyes. The lines were fine but very definitely there, magnified by the glasses. That wasn’t what caught her attention though; it was what was missing from her eyes that struck her. She glanced at the photograph again, then back to the mirror. The sadness wasn’t there. The lingering anguish that was so apparent in the eyes of her younger self was missing from her now. She couldn’t help but wonder at the cause of it.

  Amy cleared her throat. “So, Nikki and I talked about it, and we think you should come and stay with us for a while. We’ll be there when you have questions—”