Siri, Who Am I?
Page 15
“Whaaaaat?” he calls from the other room.
“I need assistance.”
“For what?”
“Facing reality.”
Max walks into the bedroom. “Um, you’re paying me to assist you in your business, not guide you through an existential crisis.”
I laugh. “Like you’re really invested in matchmaking. You’re just getting a paycheck while you’re having your own crisis, if we’re being honest.”
“No, I really just need to pay the bills, actually. I’ve got everything handled.”
I laugh. His ex-girlfriend just sabotaged his life’s work and now he’s hiding from everything at JP’s house with me. “You’re definitely good at crises. Your methodical, scientific approach is calming.”
“Most of the time, women just like my body.”
“Well, that’s nice too.” It is a nice body. The man is genetically gifted. As I stare at Max, admiring the muscles outlined under his nerdy T-shirt, I remember that JP is on his way home. In a few hours my life will…be back to normal? But what is normal? I don’t think it’s a relevant concept for me anymore.
I groan like everything hurts and mutter something and make a noise like I might vomit. “Ohmygod, what am I gonna do about that date?” Then I start in with the involuntary groaning again. The waves are pushing me toward failure’s rocky coastline and I’m just about to go down. #TheGoodLife feels like an ironic statement on my prow.
“You’re set,” he said. “I gotcha covered, babe.”
I love the way he just called me babe, even if he didn’t mean it. I bet it just rolled off his tongue. I know I shouldn’t be, but I’m all heart eyes about it.
“I got a Groupon for the date tonight.”
A Groupon? As if I can send a trendy millionaire to some Groupon date at Dave & Buster’s. No one wants to go to Dave & Buster’s. I might as well send them to Chuck E. Cheese. “Max—” I start to say. It’s like he doesn’t understand anything. “Rich people want exclusivity.”
“I know it’s not ideal, but on short notice with no money? We’ve got limited options.”
“I’m scared to ask what it’s for.”
“I got a $100 voucher at a Brazilian steakhouse for $60, plus a couples massage.” He shrugs. “Sounds like a sweet date to me.”
Max is a simple creature. He sees the world in binaries: true versus false, right versus wrong, black versus white, eating out versus eating in, fine or not fine. He’s adorable and wrong and clearly not qualified to facilitate a romance. I pat his head like he’s a golden retriever.
“I just don’t think there’s any way to use a Groupon. What am I going to do, ask Jules to show it to the waiter so that he gets a discount when he pays? And is the place even Instagrammable?”
He nods. “I was thinking we could just have Crystal do that part. She can be in on it, right? And if we’re lucky, he won’t know what Groupon is.”
“I don’t know, Max. It doesn’t sound like it’ll work.”
Jules is trendy. The only way he’d go for the Groupon is if I said the steakhouse had the best lighting for selfies, or if he was really into irony. Maybe I can make Max’s plan work. Coffee first, though.
We head downstairs and Max passes me a cup of freshly brewed coffee over the large kitchen island. I take a stool across from him.
“You look better today,” he says. “Not that you didn’t look great yesterday. Just more rested.”
“I feel better except for the panic, dread, and anxiety.”
“It’ll be fine.”
They’re just words, but when he says them, I perk up.
“If you don’t like the Groupon idea, I have something else up my sleeve.”
I give him a go on look while I reach for the box of Sugar in the Raw on the counter and stir some into my coffee.
“So, if you drive down the Pacific Coast Highway past Laguna, there’s this little cove. I went there once and it was filled with these glowing jellyfish. It was incredible.”
My jaw drops. Now that sounds unique and romantic. “Why didn’t you lead with that?”
“I can’t really remember where it is.”
Never mind. Groupon it is. We can’t spend all day driving around looking for some jellyfish he saw once on the coast of California because, as we’ve already determined, we have zero time. Jellyfish probably aren’t even in season. Or maybe they’re always in season. At any rate, no to the jellyfish.
“I’ll take you to see the jellyfish someday.”
“That sounds lovely, Max.” And it does, no matter how improbable.
“I’m going to the lab this morning if you want to come,” he says. “I want to check out the software and see if there’s anything I can do to salvage it. I don’t think Fay would have wrecked it completely.”
And he’s come to his senses! I was always on Max’s side, but it’s nice when the person you vowed to support isn’t watching his dreams go up in flames just to stand by a principle.40
“I think she just wanted to make a point,” I say encouragingly.
“Well, I got her message loud and clear,” Max seethes.
I look at him adoringly. I’m sure he has no clue what drove Fay away.
* * *
On the way to the lab, Max continues to fixate on Fay. “I’m so over the breakup. That’s old news, but I don’t get it. We were working together. Why did she throw everything away, not to mention make a mess for me to clean up?”
“Maybe you never really knew her.” That’s obviously the answer. He can’t admit it, though. Based on his Instagram handle alone, I can tell that Max thinks he knows everything. In some ways he does. Brain injuries and logic games—Max is your man. Give him a crying woman in a grocery claiming to be fine, he’s like, “cool, you wanna hit Best Buy next?” He’s a genius intellectually and a basic bro emotionally, but it could be worse. It seems like I’m the opposite, so no big—he can do my homework and I can do his.
“I just can’t believe she would drop everything after so much personal investment. If we accomplished our goals, we could have published our findings in the top journals, gotten a patent, great jobs—the works.”
“I guess she decided she didn’t want that?” But that sounds wrong even to me.
Max just shakes his head. “She won’t even answer my calls. I got a few texts from mutual friends in the neuro department who say she’s leaving the field altogether. Who does that? Who just walks away from their life?”
My gut twists. I’m not sure yet, but I think I might be exactly that kind of person.
We walk into the office building past the rows of conference posters. Max is so used to how fancy and cool this place is that he doesn’t even notice it anymore. He’s nervous, though. He’s not bad, but I can feel the negative energy pulsing off him.
“Your boss is probably going to be thrilled to see you,” I say. “It would suck to lose two smart people in one week.”
With a nod he acknowledges the truth of that. “I don’t like dragging this personal mess to work. It’s embarrassing.”
“Just fix it. Next week the personal mess will be old news.” Pretty sure I know this from experience. “Show me around the lab again,” I tell him. “I feel smart just being here. I love it.”
He smiles, genuinely happy that I’m showing interest in his non-matchmaking work. It strikes me that I’m probably part of his scandal now. When I look around the building, I can’t help but notice that none of the other scientists have brought chicks wearing four-day-old cocktail dresses to work with them. It’s only Bring Your Skanky Ho to Work Day for Max. I don’t consider myself to be skanky, but we’re in a science lab so I’m measuring skankiness like Einstein, using relativity. Fay is the only Newtonian skank.41 To his credit, Max ushers me in like I’m a princess, like he wouldn’t want to roll any other way.
Max looks at my legs and then slowly looks up at me, his eyes a shade darker than before. This thing building between us is definitely a thing. I know how I feel and I don’t think I’m reading Max wrong. His eyelids are a little heavier than a moment before, his breath just a little shallower.
His gaze lingers on my mouth and I know what he’s imagining. I’m thinking the same thing. We both know it, and that knowledge charges the air. It’s a fact we can no longer ignore. It’s right there between us: I want him and he wants me. He moves a touch closer until he’s pressed up against my thigh. His hand rests there lightly, and my whole body tenses with anticipation. I close my eyes, breathe deeply, and savor the feeling. I want more. I want his hands on me. I want his mouth on me.
He leans in. With our lips just inches apart, he hesitates—but only for a fraction of a second. He closes the distance and lets his lips rest on mine for just long enough to savor the feeling of closeness. We’re not supposed to be doing this but that makes the kiss even more delicious. He takes my lower lip like he’s been craving me for days. I open my mouth for more when—
“Oh my God!” someone screams from the door. For a split second I almost care about his job.
Max pulls away, his hands still on me. “Oops.”
Whoever it is flees, leaving us to ourselves again. I open my legs and he slides between them and angles his head down. We let ourselves make out for real for a minute. I haven’t been kissed like this in forever. Even if my brain can’t remember anything, my body can—and it’s been a been a long time since it has responded this way.
Still, I pull away. “Max, we can’t do this. Your job…”
He shrugs. “I’m more interested in you right now. Plus, Fay already lit my reputation on fire.”
“And we’re literally on our way to pick up JP.”
Max breathes heavily, still reeling from the kiss. “I don’t know JP, and there’s a chance he tried to kill you.”
“I think you’re jumping to conclusions. You said it yourself that I can’t trust my own memories right now.”
He exhales loudly. “Maybe, but there’s something off about him. About you and him. Why did it take him so long to reach out to you after your accident? I don’t trust him, Mia.”
I can’t deal with Max’s logic right now. I need JP to be a good guy—to be my guy.
Max has his PhD, but all I have is JP.
JP looks better on paper. Actually, no one has ever looked better on paper. He’s a billionaire chocolatier. Just thinking the name Jacques-o-late makes me feel like I’ve been kissed, by fortune if not by a man. He’s been endorsed by the ABC Network, which wanted him to be the bachelor on The Bachelor. And let’s face it, I’m paying Max to hang out with me. I’m not sure if what I’m feeling for him is real, or if I’m so vulnerable, needy, and scared of loneliness that I can’t see straight.
I stand up, putting some distance between us. “I’m going to get a soda.”
I walk to the vending machine in the hallway. When my Diet Pepsi gets stuck, I kick the shit out of it. I hear the lab door open and footsteps running toward me. “Hey, let me help you with that,” Max says gently. He tips the machine a little and my soda comes loose.
He holds the can out to me like a rose. Like he’s chosen me.
Suddenly, I’m overwhelmed. What am I doing? I need to uncomplicate my life—not make it messier and more dramatic.
“You keep it,” I say. “I’ll wait for you in the car while you finish up in the lab.” I walk away but can feel Max’s eyes burning through me.
* * *
An hour later, we’re driving south on the 701 back to JP’s house. The silence between us is pregnant, just like I would be if I lived out my complete fantasy with Max because God knows that I don’t have a birth control plan. Maybe I have an IUD? It’s just as likely that I’m on the pill and have forgotten to take it for four days. That’ll make a good Bustle article, at least.
I’m on my third Diet Pepsi. I’m not even thirsty but I need to keep my mouth busy—and I’ve already checked all of my social media platforms twenty-five times.
I run my finger along the stitches in the leather seat one at a time. The stitching is perfect, probably hand-done in Italy.
“I shouldn’t have kissed you,” Max says quietly.
“It’s 2020, Max. We kissed each other.” The kiss was definitely wrong, but it was also the only thing that felt right since I came out of the coma. Talk about a cliché.
“You have JP”
“I have JP,” I echo.
“I guess my question is…do you want to know JP?”
I breathe deeply and shut my eyes. So much has happened in the last few days. “I just can’t even think at all. Would it be okay if we just chill for a minute?”
He sighs. “Sure, but I hope you understand that I don’t want to be your backup guy.”
So much for chill.
I look at him, studying his eyes as they study the road. “Max, if I didn’t have this boyfriend who I don’t remember, I would be all over you without any hesitation.”
“Exactly my point,” Max says. “Think about what you want.”
I turn to settle back in my seat. What Max doesn’t know is that I don’t have the luxury of pursuing what I want. JP is rich and could solve all of my financial problems. I’m ashamed to even think this, but there it is. I don’t want to just use him for his money, but I can’t help but see how easy life would be if I were with him.
Speak of the devil—my phone pings and I see a text from JP.
Hey Hunnybunny. See you in a couple of hours!
Hunnybunny—has he met me? Sugary endearments fit me like an XL hoodie from Old Navy.
Put on that lacy black dress. Taking you to Mr. Chow’s for dinner and drinks. I have something very important to ask you. xoxo
Based on photos in my Instagram feed, we’ve been dating for at least six months. I have a toothbrush at his house. He calls me Hunnybunny. In that first text convo he said something about a present even more sparkly than my personality.42
JP is definitely going to propose.
Max notices the change in my expression. “Is everything okay?”
“Yeah, it’s nothing.”
“I just met you three days ago, Mia, but obviously there’s something between us. What happens is up to you, but like I said, I don’t want to be your backup guy. I definitely don’t want to stand around and hold your purse while you test-drive JP to see if he’s better than me.”
I slump and look at my lap. He’s throwing the decision back at me, which makes sense, but I’m so overwhelmed by JP’s text that my brain goes into self-preservation mode.
“I hear you. For now, I just need to figure out how to get through today. JP made reservations at Mr. Chow’s, which I’m thinking we can use for Crystal and Jules. It’s much fancier, and we can save the Groupon for later.”
Max looks at me seriously. “I don’t know if we can just sweep everything aside, Mia. I’m worried about you. I think that cop had a point.” His face hardens. “I know JP is handsome and rich and seems nice, but let me ask you again: are you sure he wasn’t the one who put you in the hospital? In cases like this, it’s usually the boyfriend.”
If I could slump even further into my seat, I would. “I don’t think so.” Still, I can’t help but flash back to our first text conversation, post-amnesia: Is everything ok? U still mad? Clearly we had some kind of a
rgument. And I doubt he’s referring to the art museum fight. That was a full-on assault, not an argument. It couldn’t have been JP.
Max isn’t buying it. “I don’t think you should be alone with him until you make sure he isn’t the one who did it.”
Now I’m starting to get a little pissed off. I don’t need supervised visits with my boyfriend. Let’s face it, only a total psychopath would knock me out, run to Switzerland, and then act as if nothing happened. JP might be a rich douche, but I don’t get psychopath vibes from him. He has a chocolate company, for fuck’s sake. He’s on the same level as Santa Claus.
I give Max a sweet smile and say, “Sure.”
He sees right through me. “I’m serious, Mia. Someone really hurt you, maybe even tried to kill you. You can’t brush that off.”
For the moment, that’s exactly what I’m going to do.
40 Principles—not something I’d go down for.
41 Maybe I’m a scientist too?
42 Side question: has he met me?
CHAPTER
SIXTEEN
Since I’m meeting JP for the first time, it makes sense to dress up a little. I take a shower, but there’s only so much I can do about my wardrobe given that I have one outfit. How have I not solved this yet? I’ve been out of my coma for several days and I still have nothing else to wear. I guess I’ve had better things to do…like figure out who I am.
Looking in the mirror, I realize it doesn’t matter who I was. Currently, I’m a ho in a five-day-old cocktail dress. It’s my only option besides something from JP’s closet. If that doesn’t say something about my circumstances, nothing does. Even though the dress has been recently dry cleaned, I give the lining a few squirts of Febreze, so it doesn’t stain the satin, and put on an extra-thick coat of Pirate lipstick.
“Do you want me to come?”
“To pick up my boyfriend?” Is Max insane?
“I meant it when I said you shouldn’t be alone with him.”