Clean Slate

by Andrea Bramhall

  Mum? Me? Morgan felt her arms rising automatically to hold the child. She pulled her back a little to look at her properly. The girl’s face was the mirror image of her own face when she was kid. Mum?

  Then the girl was gone, her little arms ripped from her neck as Erin lifted her into her arms and cradled her against her body.

  “What the hell are you doing?” Erin’s eyes flashed angrily and her face was flushed. Her dark hair curled against her forehead and neck. Morgan thought she was beautiful, even though she looked ready to rip Amy’s head off.

  Amy grimaced. “Erin, I’m sorry. I had no way of knowing you were going to—”

  Erin didn’t look at her, her eyes were firmly fixed on Morgan’s face. The girl was sobbing against Erin’s neck as she patted her back and kissed her hair. “It’s okay, sweetie. It’s okay.”

  “She called me ‘mum.’” Morgan looked from Erin to Amy, her mind unable to comprehend the magnitude of it all. “Why did she call me mum?”

  A giant of a man walked up to Erin’s side and took the girl from Erin’s arms. He wrapped his other arm around the boy’s shoulders. “I’ll take these two home. We’ll be okay till you get there. Won’t we, guys?” Neither child responded. They just stared at Morgan, desperation clear in both their little faces.

  Morgan stared at them, the lovely family unit. Beautiful Erin and her handsome husband. Their gorgeous kids. The boy was a miniature version of them both. Why did the girl call me mum?

  “Thanks, Chris.” Erin stroked her hand down the boy’s cheek. “Will you look after your sister for me? We’ll talk when I get back. I promise, Tristan.”

  He turned watery blue eyes up to her. “She doesn’t remember anything, does she?”

  Erin wrapped her arms about his shoulders and held him. “I promise we’ll talk when I come home.”

  “Don’t bother.” He pushed away from her and set off running across the field.

  “Tristan!” Erin started after him. He stopped at the gate to the park, hung onto the railings, and buried his head in the crook of his arm.

  “I’ve got it. You need to be here.” Chris stopped Erin from chasing Tristan and gestured at Morgan. “I can handle this.” Chris carried Maddie away and headed for Tristan. The sobs racking his body were visible across the field.

  Erin pressed her fingers into her eyes before taking a deep breath and turning back to Morgan as the man, Chris, ushered the children out of view.

  Amy touched her arm. “I’ll wait over there.” She pointed to another bench, halfway along the pond.

  Erin shook her head. “Chicken.”

  “I know. Sorry.” Amy walked away slowly.

  Morgan stared across the field as Erin sat down beside her. “Is he your husband?”

  “No, Chris is my brother.”

  Morgan felt a surge of relief but didn’t have time to dissect it. There were too many other things that needed to be addresses. She called me mum. “She has my eyes.”

  “Yes, she does.”

  “I don’t understand. They’re my children?”

  “Our children.”

  Morgan snapped her head round so fast it sent a pain shooting through the base of her skull. She winced as she lifted her hand to rub the back of her neck. “We’re together?” Despite the twinge in her neck, and the shock, Morgan felt like her world finally made sense. Of course Erin couldn’t take her home to the children straight away. It would be far too traumatic for them. They needed time, to adjust, to get to know each other again. She smiled, knowing instinctively that this was where she belonged. Beside Erin. She felt a sense of peace that she hadn’t known since waking up. The black hole of her past suddenly didn’t matter quite so much, because she was sitting beside the most important part of it. She couldn’t stop herself from reaching for Erin’s hand.

  Erin flinched and pulled away before dropping her gaze to the ground. “No. Not anymore.”

  The peaceful feeling evaporated, leaving her with the anger that was becoming all too familiar. “Because of this?” Morgan pointed to her head.

  “What?” Erin frowned.

  “The whole memory thing?” She turned away from Erin and stared out across the water; the swans were swimming along, ripples spreading across the surface of the water behind them. “Is that why you don’t want me?”

  “You left me before this happened.”

  She turned around to face her again. Erin’s crystal blue eyes were red rimmed, and the thought that she’d been crying hurt Morgan deeply. She wanted to soothe her pain, as she was sure she must have done in the past. The attraction she felt for Erin was undeniable, but there was something deeper that called to her. It had been there the moment she woke in the hospital, and it was still there now. Instinct, intuition, whatever name she gave it, it all meant the same. She knew that Erin made her whole. The thought of leaving her stole the breath from her lungs, and chilled her to the core. “I’m sorry. That was a really stupid thing to say. Why did I leave?”

  “You said you were making us miserable and walked out. That was the last time I saw you before you ended up in hospital.”

  “That doesn’t make sense.”

  Erin laughed. “Funny, that’s just what I said.”

  “The kids aren’t little babies—”

  “We were together for fifteen years. Tristan’s thirteen, and Maddie’s ten. Is that what you wanted to know?” Erin pulled the band out of her hair, swept up the loose tendrils, and then re-secured it at the back of her head. She crossed one leg over the other.

  “Among other things.”

  “Like?”

  Morgan shrugged. “Everything, I guess. What do you do? Where do we—did we live? We had a whole life together.”

  “Our life together doesn’t really matter anymore. You walked out on that. Before your accident, we hadn’t seen hide nor hair of you for three weeks. Our life together doesn’t exist anymore. Our children are a different story.” Her voice was sharp, and Morgan flinched.

  “They know? About the memory thing?”

  “Yes, I told them. I don’t think it had really sunk in what it meant before now. For Maddie especially.”

  “Will she be okay?”

  Erin was silent so long that Morgan didn’t think she was going to answer.

  “I have no idea. They’re used to having you around. Having us both with them every day.” She twisted the ring on her finger around. “I have no idea how to help them with this. It was hard enough telling them you left us and not being able to give them a reason why. But now you don’t even remember them. I don’t know what to do.”

  Erin looked lost. Morgan reached out her hand and slowly covered Erin’s, stopping her from playing with her ring. Third finger, left hand. “Did I give you this?”

  Erin’s cheeks colored. “I should have taken it off before now.” She started to pull her hand away.

  “No, don’t.” Erin’s skin was soft beneath hers, and warm. She tried to pretend she didn’t hear the sharp breath as she traced her fingers over her knuckles and twisted the ring until the small diamond faced out. “When?” She heard Erin swallow, but she couldn’t tear her eyes away from the white gold band, glinting in the sun.

  “Two thousand and four.” She cleared her throat. “Civil partnerships were introduced, effectively allowing gay and lesbian couples to get married. Tristan was your best man, and Maddie was our bridesmaid.” Erin’s voice broke. “He was so proud when he stood at the altar next to you.”

  She wanted to entwine their fingers, press their palms together, and never let go. Instead, she traced her finger lightly over the veins in the back of Erin’s hand. “Now he hates me.”

  “No, he still loves you. They both do. That’s why they’re hurting.” She pulled her hand away.

  “How can I help?” The words were out before she thought about it, but she didn’t regret airing them. She realized that she’d do anything to be close to Erin, to spend more time with her.

  Erin laughed a
gain. “You want to help?”

  Morgan frowned. “Why is that so hard to believe?”

  Erin stared at her. Morgan had never felt so exposed as she sat in front of the woman who knew her better than she knew herself. The woman who had held her, kissed her, touched her. The woman who was a beautiful stranger. She wanted to connect with her, to feel some of the warmth that must have been between them, but there was a wariness in Erin’s eyes that told her it wouldn’t be so easy.

  “You said in the hospital that we were friends.”

  “We were.” She uncrossed her legs and put her hands on her knees. “We were everything to each other.”

  The bitter sorrow in her words stung, and Morgan wished she knew a way to take that pain away. “But not anymore?”

  “I can’t forget how much you hurt me, Morgan.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Oh, God. If only it was that easy. You don’t even know what you’re apologizing for. Hell, you don’t even know me!”

  The pain and vulnerability that had been clear only moments before were replaced by anger. Morgan knew she was getting ready to leave, and she was desperate for Erin to stay. Even just a little longer. “I didn’t know you fifteen years ago either, but we changed that.”

  “Fifteen years ago we were in the same place. Now you think you’re nineteen, and I’m a thirty-six year old single mum, with two kids, a failed marriage, a mortgage, a full-time job, bills to pay. Do I need to carry on?” Erin stood and looked over at Amy. “I need to go and see to my children.”

  “You said they’re our children.”

  “Don’t make this harder than it needs to be.” She didn’t look back as she walked away.

  Chapter Nine

  The mechanical whirring of the washing machine hummed in the background. The muted TV flickered from one scene to the next, dragging Morgan’s attention from her maudlin thoughts before they sucked her back down into the vortex of questions and emotions that seemed disconnected from reason. Every time she closed her eyes she saw Erin’s face, eyes red rimmed and filled with pain one moment, smiling gently at her the next.

  She could still feel warm little arms wrapped around her neck. Maddie. My daughter. Our daughter. Morgan wished she could remember what it felt like to wrap her own arms around the girl; she’d been too shocked to do so yesterday at the park. She wished she’d been able to erase the pain from Tristan’s face. Her son. My children.

  “Morgan?” Nikki’s voice was quiet, but strong enough to get her attention. “There are two police officers here. They want to talk to you. Do you feel up to it?”

  Morgan shrugged. “Now’s as good a time as any. It’s not like waiting’s likely to help.” A wave of vertigo gripped her as she stood up. Nikki reached for her hand to steady her, and simply waited until Morgan was ready.

  “Is that any worse?”

  “No. I’ve just, like, got a bit of a headache right now. That doesn’t help with the spinning world feeling.”

  “You sure you’re up to this?”

  “I’ll be fine.”

  Nikki kept hold of her elbow as they walked through the house. Two police officers were sitting, talking to Amy, and they stood when Morgan and Nikki entered the room.

  “Ms. Masters, I’m PC Lock, and this is PC Ward.” He held his hand out to shake, and then indicated his colleague. “We need to ask you some questions about the night of your attack.”

  “Sure.” It wasn’t a question, but she felt she needed to respond. “Have you spoken to the doctors who were treating me?”

  “Not since you were released. Can you tell me what happened on the night of Wednesday, July twenty-fifth, two thousand and twelve?”

  “No.” Morgan shook her head. “I’m sorry, but I don’t remember anything.”

  “We need your help if we’re going to catch the person who did this to you.”

  “I get that. But I really don’t know. If you spoke to my doctors you should know that I have amnesia. I’m not being stubborn, or secretive, or protecting someone, or any of that crap. I really don’t remember a thing.”

  The two police officers glanced at each other. One of them, Lock, reached into his pocket and pulled out a picture. “We got this off the CCTV footage from the college. Their system takes still pictures every few seconds in rotation. So we have images of what happened to you that night. The quality isn’t good enough for facial recognition, but would you take a look and see if it jogs your memory?”

  “It can’t hurt, right?” She took the picture from him and it landed like a blow to the gut. The air hissed out of her lungs, and her hand shook.

  Nikki was looking over her shoulder. “Fuck.”

  It was grainy, and distorted, but it was clearly Morgan, her head pressed against a woman’s breasts. The woman had her head thrown back, a look of pleasure on her face, and Morgan’s arms were wrapped around her.

  “That’s you, isn’t it, Ms. Masters?”

  Morgan looked up from the picture, her mouth hung open, but no sound came out.

  “Do you know who the woman is with you?”

  Morgan shook her head.

  “Do either of you recognize her?”

  “No.” Nikki pulled the picture from Morgan’s hand and passed it to Amy.

  “No.” Her face paled as she handed it back to PC Lock and he pulled another picture from his pocket.

  “We never got a full view of this man, but this is the man who attacked you. Do you know him?”

  “PC Lock, I don’t even know my own children. Do you really think I’m going to recognize this man?” She took the picture he held out to her, and the rage on the man’s face made his features difficult to make out. “If I do know him, I have no idea who he is.”

  Nikki and Amy studied the picture for themselves, also at a loss.

  “He shoved the woman into the car and drove off with her. It looked like she was struggling and she seems to know the man, but we can’t confirm that until we identify her. I’ve circulated the pictures of her face and his with the college security people in the hope that someone might recognize either of them, but so far no luck. I’ve also had them run the pictures through the database of staff and students. No one seems to know either of them.”

  “The picture you showed me?” Morgan’s pulse raced at the thought of anyone else seeing her like that.

  “We cropped you out of the picture. Data protection.” He plucked a business card out of his stab vest. “If you do remember anything, please call me right away.”

  “It’s been more than a week. Why haven’t you already found out who they are?” Nikki’s accusation hung in the air.

  “We are doing all we can, but we don’t have very much to go on. We have no idea where Ms. Masters met her. We can’t find anybody at the college who recognizes either of them, and Ms. Masters can’t give us anything else at the moment,” he said, as though this explained everything. “Like I said, it appears on the footage as though she knows the man. We’re checking other CCTV footage to see if we can track down where they were that night.” They both stood. “We’ll keep you informed, Ms. Masters.”

  “What about the drugs?” Morgan asked.

  Lock shrugged. “There’s no way to tell how they got in your system until we can identify these people as you can’t tell us anything. There was nothing distinctive to the drug makeup that would help us to identify the source or the person using it. At this point, it doesn’t help. I’m sorry.”

  Morgan was silent as they left. Nikki was barely back in the room before she turned to face them both. “Did you know?” Her shock was lifting, and in the pit of her belly she felt disgusted with herself. The image of her body pleasuring some stranger in a car park was burned into her brain.

  “Know what?” Nikki said.

  “Did either of you know that I was screwing someone else?”

  Amy shook her head.

  “No.” Nikki’s face was red as she glared at Morgan. “If I had, I would’ve told you th
at you were a fucking idiot!”

  “Was I having an affair? Is that woman why I left Erin?” Morgan stared at her hands. Hands that yesterday had held Erin’s. The same hands that had stroked another woman’s skin. But I’m Erin’s.

  “You didn’t tell anyone anything. You could’ve been screwing the pope, for all we knew!”

  “I really didn’t tell you anything?” There was no anger left in her to direct at Nikki. She felt empty, numb, and cold. “I don’t want to be the Morgan in that picture.”

  “What do you mean?” Amy said.

  “The woman in that picture, she was the one Nikki said was depressed and lonely. And she didn’t have any family with her, she ran away from Erin, and those kids, and no one has any idea why. And I don’t want to be like her. I don’t want to be her. She sounds, like, fucking miserable.”

  “I don’t know; she had her good points.” Amy got out of her chair and knelt in front of her, gripping her hand.

  “Yeah? Like what? Because all I’ve heard so far is that she was a fucking waste of space who didn’t know a good thing when she was fucking living it!”

  Amy frowned. “She was a good mum—”

  “Good mums don’t walk out on their kids. How long before the attack did I leave?”

  “Three weeks.” She let go of Morgan’s hand and stood up.

  “And how many times did I call them? How many times did I go and see them? Because Erin said they hadn’t seen me or heard from me since I walked out the door. That sound like a good mum to you?” Morgan didn’t even look up. She wanted the anger back. She wanted to feel the heat of rage’s fire. Anything but the numbness that was enveloping her.

  “You were a good teacher.”

  “Really? Did I become a teacher because I failed at being an artist?”

  “No, you didn’t fail.”

  “Did I even try?”

  “What?” Amy frowned, her confusion evident.

  “Did I try to make a living as an artist? That was my dream.” They waited staring at her. “Well? Did I even try?”

  “No.”

  “So, I wasn’t a good teacher. I didn’t want to be a teacher. Being a good teacher takes passion. Pride. Not just falling into it. Right?”