by June Gray
“What should we toast?” he asked, lifting his glass.
Without a word I clinked my glass against his and took a sip.
“You’re doing it wrong,” he said with some amusement.
I shrugged and set the wine down. “I just didn’t feel like toasting anything.”
“Not even us?”
The concerned look on his face made me sigh in defeat. “I just don’t want to jinx anything by toasting with crappy wine, okay?”
He took a sip of the wine and winced. “You’re right, the wine is awful,” he said and reached under the table to squeeze my knee. “Toasting is optional tonight.”
I didn’t tell him about the heavy ball of dread at the pit of my stomach because I myself didn’t understand it. How could I explain it without knowing what it was? It was irrational and probably unfounded, but the anxiety was there anyway. I was too happy; the universe would somehow find a way to bring me down in order to regain equilibrium once again.
I changed the subject instead. “So, now that you know who you are…”
“What’s my next move?” When I nodded, he sat back and scratched at the stubble on his cheek. “I guess figure out why I’m here. I mean, I obviously came here on my own and rented a car. Maybe I was supposed to meet someone for an adventure trip in the wilderness. I remember going on a lot of those.”
“But Drew said you didn’t have luggage or gear in the car. He said he checked the trunk and everything.”
We came up with different theories during dinner, a few of which were so wild they might actually have some semblance of truth. “You found out you were adopted and that your biological parents were Aleuts living in the Alaskan wilderness. You came out here to meet them, but knew you wouldn’t stay, hence you didn’t bring clothes,” I said, finishing the last of my grilled salmon.
He gave me a skeptical look. “I liked your theory about shearing the coats off hibernating bears better,” he said, pulling out his wallet to put money on the little plastic tray that held our check. He flipped through the wad of bills and frowned. “There must be around two thousand dollars in here,” he said, pulling out a fifty-dollar note.
As he did, a tiny piece of white paper fell away from the fifty and drifted down to the table. “What is that?” I asked as he picked it up and studied it.
His face paled; my stomach sank. “Kat…” he started, his eyes already begging for forgiveness.
I grabbed the piece of paper from his fingers. On it was the carefully handwritten name and address of one Katherine Hollister of Eight Sommers Lane, Ayashe, Alaska.
20
WEST
“What the fuck is this?” Kat asked, blood rushing to her face.
I stared down at the piece of paper between her fingers, unable to come up with a reason why her information was inside my wallet. “I don’t know,” I said, holding a hand to my chest. “I honestly have no clue why I have that.”
She sat still as death, not blinking or breathing, no doubt holding back the urge to scream and strike out. But her icy glare was steady and true.
“It doesn’t have to mean what you think it does.”
“Then what does it mean, Luke?” she asked in a voice as cold as the weather outside. “Explain to me why you have my full name—the name I never even told you—written on a piece of paper inside your wallet.”
I grabbed the paper from her fingers and stared at it, unable to come up with a reasonable excuse. I raked through my memories but couldn’t recall an exact moment when that piece of paper had come into my possession. I slammed my elbows onto the table and tugged at my hair, willing the memories to return. If Kat was going to hate me, if this little piece of paper signaled the end of us, then I needed a valid reason. I needed to know I was guilty of a crime before accepting the verdict. “I don’t know, Kat…”
“Luke Harrington!”
My head snapped up to the male voice calling my name and in that moment, when my eyes met the gaze of a deeply-tanned man with spiky blond hair, the incomplete memory of that night at the bar in New York came rushing back to me.
I flicked the coin in the air and caught it. “Nah. I think I’ll just wing it,” I said to my friend Decker. I stood from the stool and straightened my gray suit jacket. “I feel like a challenge tonight.”
At that moment a tall blonde woman walked by and attracted both Decker’s and my attention.
“God, for a second there I thought that was Katherine Hollister,” Decker said with a chuckle, taking a sip of his whiskey.
I watched the woman’s swinging hips as she disappeared into the crowd. Nice. “Who’s that? Did you tap that?” I asked, hoping he hadn’t so that I had a backup lay.
“That wasn’t her.” Decker shook his head. “Katherine was this outcast girl from high school in Anchorage. Tall, blonde, called herself Kat but got really pissed off anytime anyone called her Katherine. She was pretty but dressed like a boy, always in a hoodie and big baggy jeans.”
“Sounds like a freak.”
“Well, she might have been a cool girl if she’d actually joined in. But she just kept to herself, with her earphones on while she drew in a sketchbook.”
“What was she drawing?”
“Fuck if I know,” Decker said. “She never showed it to anyone.”
“You had a stiffy for her, didn’t you?” I asked, landing a light punch on his arm.
Decker laughed. “Well, I always wondered if she was secretly a nympho under all those baggy clothes. I even heard that a few jocks were making bets on who could pop her cherry first.”
I sat back on the stool, engrossed in the story of the tomboy outcast. More than anything I wanted to hear that she finally shed her insecurities and lived it up. Sex was too good not to enjoy. “And?”
“She went to prom with Kyle Masterson, a football player. First time anyone ever saw her in a dress. She was fucking hot.”
“Well, did she give it up?”
“I’m not sure. Pictures of her half-naked went around school on Monday and rumors started flying that she had had sex with Kyle, that she’d had an orgy with the entire football team, that she’d blown a teacher in the teacher’s lounge. All stupid shit. But nobody knew what was true or what was false because she never defended herself. She just went away and came back some time later even more of a loner than before.”
“So where is she now?”
He shook his head. “I don’t know. Last I heard of her she left Anchorage after her dad went to jail for beating up Kyle. Nobody’s heard from her since.”
“Do you think she’s still in Alaska?” I asked, not knowing why I felt so invested in this girl’s story when it was just one of many I’d heard. Nevertheless, the need to figure her out was coursing through my veins.
“Yeah, she’s probably in some bumfuck town living with ten cats and knitting all day.”
“I could find out,” I said, drinking the rest of my bourbon and ordering another. “I have a vacation coming up in a few weeks.”
“Aren’t you going to Puerto Rico?”
I shrugged. “Puerto Rico can wait. I suddenly have a need for an adventure in Bumfuck, Alaska, to meet this mysterious mountain Kat,” I said, already scrolling through the directory on my phone. “I know a really good private investigator who owes me a favor.”
“You’re really going to do it?”
I nodded, pressing dial on the phone. “Why wouldn’t I?”
“And what are you going to do once you find her?”
I grinned, holding the phone up to my ear. “I’ll do what I do best. Veni, vidi, vici.”
Decker laughed, shaking his head. “Good luck with that,” he said, clinking his glass to mine. “Hope she doesn’t cut your dick off.”
“How do you know him?” I heard Kat asking the blond man as he came towards our table. She turned that brewing rage towards me. “How does he know you?”
I shook my head to clear my mind, to focus on the here and now, even when what I’d
just remembered had ripped me to shreds. “Decker,” I said, standing up but unable to shake his hand. I looked at Kat. “His name is Decker and he’s from New York.”
“Luke and I go way back,” Decker said, thumping me on the back.
“Why do you look familiar?” she asked him with narrowed eyes.
“You don’t remember, do you?” he asked. “I’m Greg Decker. We had homeroom together junior and senior year.”
Realization dawned on her face, quickly followed by panic. “How do you two know each other?” she asked, already rising from her seat.
Decker glanced down at the romantic little candle on the table and flashed me that look of congratulation on a lay well acquired. “We work and play together.”
Kat didn’t miss the look or the meaning that accompanied it. “Fuck this shit, I’m out of here,” she said, grabbing her coat and rushing to the door. But I was quicker and blocked her exit.
She lifted her chin, her jaw muscles working. “Get the hell out of my way, Wes—Luke.”
“Don’t leave, Kat,” I said, painfully aware that everyone in that restaurant, including Decker, was watching us.
“Move,” she said under her breath.
I leaned against the door and dug in my heels. “Not until you listen to what I have to say.”
“I have no interest in what you have to say. Whatever it is, it’s going to make me want to punch a hole in your pretty boy face.” Her face was stony, but I saw the hurt underneath. It killed me to know that I put it there.
“Just let me explain,” I said, not budging.
“You’ve done enough explaining,” she said and swung her knee up to my balls.
I doubled over, the sharp physical pain in my crotch a welcome distraction from the pain in my chest. Kat stepped around to the door, pushing me out of the way as she exited.
I took deep breaths and followed her outside. “Stop, Kat!” I called, grabbing the back of her jacket.
She turned and started throwing punches, hitting me on the chest, my arms, my stomach, anything she could reach. I bore the brunt of her emotions. I took all the punches wordlessly because I deserved them all, because turnabout was fair play. Eye for an eye, slight for a slight.
“You betrayed me, you fucking liar,” she shouted, landing a punch on my cheek that snapped my head to the side.
I grabbed both of her wrists, breathing through the throbbing on my face. I licked my lower lip and tasted the metallic tang of blood. God, that woman had a mean right hook.
Kat stared at me with wide eyes, regret and pain swirling in their blue depths, but before either of us could say a word we became aware of the people inside who had abandoned their meals to watch us through the windows.
“Congratulations,” Kat said with glistening eyes. “You’ve successfully humiliated me in front of the whole town.”
“I didn’t set out to humiliate you,” I said, wishing I could just hold her. “I just wanted to find you.”
“And make a fool of me.” She jumped into the Jeep and pulled out of the space, her tires fishtailing a little on the ice as she hurried out of the parking lot.
I watched her go, completely at a loss. When she was out of sight, I turned my head up to the inky sky and bellowed at the stars. “Fuuuuuuck!”
“Luke,” Decker said from the door.
I stalked up to him. “Why the hell are you here?” I shoved him in the chest and he fell back into the door.
He recovered and pushed me back equally hard. “I was trying to find you, man,” he said. “You’ve been missing for two weeks. You haven’t answered your phone and the hotel staff said they haven’t seen you since you arrived.”
That too came to me as the thick fog in my mind started to thin out: the Hilton hotel in Anchorage where I’d left my belongings, the drive out to Ayashe with only my phone’s GPS to lead me, the missed junction in the road and my subsequent hasty U-turn that had resulted in sliding off the road and into the trees.
What came next was a little fuzzy as I only recalled walking along the side of the road, that name and address stuck in my head as my only destination.
“Do you have a car?” I asked him, looking around the parking lot.
He pressed a button on a remote key and a black sedan blinked its lights in the parking lot. “Come on, man, let’s get back to Anchorage.”
“No. I need to see Kat first.” I needed to make her understand that I wasn’t that guy anymore. She probably wouldn’t believe me, but I had to try.
Decker looked dumbfounded as we climbed into the car. “What the hell happened?” he asked as he started the vehicle.
“I had an accident and lost my memory. She saved me from dying out in a snowstorm and took care of me. Fed me, clothed me.”
Loved me.
I turned to my friend, feeling like the most wretched human being that ever existed. “She’s amazing, man.” I’d told her I didn’t deserve her, and never did I feel it more than in that one moment.
At my instruction, Decker turned onto Sommers Lane. “You fell for her, didn’t you?” he asked, giving me a sideways glance. When I didn’t answer, he slammed a hand on the steering wheel. “Holy shit, Harrington!” he shouted with glee. “You fucking fell for Krazy Kat!”
“Don’t call her that,” I said through my teeth, clenching my fists in my lap.
I breathed a sigh of relief when we turned into her driveway and found her Jeep there.
“She lives in a trailer? What does she do, cook meth?” Decker asked, taking in the modest mobile home with siding that needed a new coat of paint and the metal shed at the side. Had I seen her house as my old self, I would have probably made the same assumption.
“Shut up, Decker. Just wait here,” I said, getting out of the car and slamming the door. I stalked up the snow-covered steps and knocked. When she didn’t answer, I pounded harder. “Kat, open up! I’m going to break this down if you don’t open up.”
The door swung open to reveal Kat, her face expressionless, giving away nothing that would indicate her frame of mind. Without a word, she turned around and sat at the dining table, and it was then I noticed the large knife sitting in its center.
I closed the door behind me and took a seat across from her, the sharp object and seemingly endless miles of laminate surface between us. “What are you doing with that?” I asked calmly, afraid to spook her lest she run again.
She said nothing, just looked at me with hard eyes.
“The truth is I’ve been friends with Decker since he started working for my mom’s TV station. We party together, made a sport of sleeping with women. One day he started to tell me about a girl in high school who kept to herself and was ostracized as a result…”
I stopped, noticing a tear falling down her cheek in a lightning pattern. She didn’t wipe it away, instead lifted her chin higher. She wanted me to see what I’d done to her, still so bold even in the face of betrayal.
I had to continue, knowing the truth needed to be told. “Because I had some vacation time, I decided to come find you, to seduce you like I’d done with so many other women. Finding you was a challenge, and stupid, impulsive me couldn’t say no. On the way here, I was in a car accident and lost my memory. And then you found me.”
I waited for a long time, staring at her, waiting for her to speak, but save from the tears, she gave away nothing. I supposed there was nothing left to give.
“I know you don’t trust me right now, and I don’t blame you.” I reached across the table and tried to hold her hand, but she pulled away. “But Kat, I love you. I honest-to-goodness fell stupidly, remarkably in love with you. No matter what other ugly things I dig up from my past, it will never change that one truth.”
She leaned forward, but instead of holding my outstretched hand she wrapped her fingers around the black handle of the knife. “Are you done?” she asked with a low but determined voice.
I shook my head and kept my hand on the table to show her I wasn’t afraid. Maybe
it was stupid of me to put my life in her hands when she was so angry, but I’d done it before and had come out with her trust and love. I was hoping that maybe this time it would be the same. “I’m sorry,” I said, keeping my gaze steady. “I’m not proud of who I was before coming to Alaska, but I don’t regret a single thing I’ve done from the day you found me.” I turned my hand and touched her fingers, surprised to find them trembling. My eyes flicked up to her face and I spied some emotion in those eyes before they were shuttered once again.
“Your stuff is over there,” she said, motioning to the brown plastic bag that was now filled with clothes.
I stood up and retrieved my things then started for the door. I turned to face her one last time, wishing I could at least give her a kiss before walking out of her life. “I’ll do the right thing, Kat. I’ll leave you alone, like I should have done in the first place,” I said and crossed the room. I grabbed her wrists and pulled her upright, the knife lying discarded on the table. “But first I need to be selfish. If I never see you again, I want to know that this was your last memory of me.” I held her to me, even if she was stiff. I buried my face in her neck and grasped her back, breathing in her scent, tasting her skin one last time. I slid my fingers up the back of her neck and through her hair, grasping a handful as I brought her lips to mine. I kissed her, licking and nibbling until she finally softened and let me in. I kissed her like it was the first and the last time, hoping it was enough, knowing it would never be.
I couldn’t disentangle my arms from around her, couldn’t pull my lips away from hers. So I held on and drank her in as much as I could before she sent me away.
Tears were sliding freely down her face when she pushed at my chest. Her voice was hoarse when she said, “Bye, Luke.”
They weren’t the bitter, angry words I’d been expecting, and they made saying goodbye even more difficult. “I love you, Kat,” I said one last time and left.