“I can promise you, you never will.” Ben spoke almost instantly. She just glared at him. The man seemed to have an answer to everything.
“Sorry—we’ve had this conversation once or twice —I know my lines.”
She watched him thoughtfully. “So we have.”
He caught her stare and then pulled the steering wheel midway to the right, glancing behind him for a fraction of a second. It took her a moment to realize he was pulling over to the shoulder in the middle of the highway. After he’d put the car in park, he turned to her. His eyes were just as thoughtful, but held a level of certainty that she lacked.
“I’m glad you called me Liz. I’ve missed you. You’ll probably burst out in hysterics if you happen to get your memory back mid-sentence when I say this, but don’t think too far into it. You and I may have had a night together, but it was nothing—for either of us,” he paused for a breath. “The truth is—I cared about you very much even then. Who you were, and what you’ve done for my brother. I really thought you were it for him and we may as well all fall in love with you now.” he paused. “After he left…I was just as angry, and…got my emotions mixed up.” He reached for her hand. “We’re close…but we’re in no way romantically connected.” He pulled back, a playful smirk on his face. He pulled up his collar dramatically. “Sorry to disappoint you, kid.”
She did laugh, as he’d predicted. “Thank you for setting me straight, Romeo.” She laughed again and wiped away a tear, as Ben put the car back in drive and eased back into traffic.
Less than an hour later, Ben pulled up to his garage. Unlike her and Matt, Ben and Megan lived in a small house by the beach, closer to where the Owen’s lived, Matt’s parents. The rain finally slowed to a drizzle and it started to approach the early evening. She was grateful for Meg not being much of a talker. After she made Liz some tea, she sat with her in the kitchen and just listened. Megan was good at that. And she wasn’t fooling anyone. Behind her cold exterior, there was a woman who did care for her family—and cared for Liz as a friend.
“I don’t know whether you’re the confidant type, but you’re all I have.”
Megan shrugged and her lips curved. “You’re kind of all I have too.” She pulled on a white bakery box on the kitchen island. “And don’t worry about Matt,” she started to say with a mouth full of cannoli, “he’ll be keeping his distance for a few days.”
Liz frowned.
“He called while Ben was picking you up, wondering if we’d heard from you.” She stopped to watch Liz. “I told him you’d be safe here with us.”
I was safe with him too.
“Thank you.” Liz fell into an absent daze, thinking about Matt for longer than she’d planned to let herself. Then she noticed something about Megan’s lavender sweater.
“Hey, when are you going to give me back that sweater?”
Megan jerked her head back and lowered her chin, “This sweater?”
“Of course, that sweater, you didn’t think I’d recognize it? You borrowed it last summer because Ben is always blasting the AC in here. And you said—”
“This is the perfect summer color…” they both said in unison. Only Megan’s words were more mumbled.
“Liz…you remember that?”
Liz considered the odd question for only a fraction of a second. Until it wasn’t odd anymore.
And she couldn’t answer it.
She could barely find coherent words much less figure out how she’d remembered the menial fact. She continued to stare at her sister-in-law, hoping for something else, anything else, regardless of its significance.
But nothing came. She breathed out. It was so fast. So small. And so unfair.
She shook her head and turned away. Thankfully, Megan didn’t pressure her and just stood after a moment and made more tea.
Throughout the night, Liz experienced other small memories, but kept those to herself. It was as if her brain was mocking her with these tiny visuals. Very few of which contained an audible memory. She barely heard much of what Ben and Megan rambled about after they sat up drinking wine and picking at more baked goods. If she hadn’t known any better, she’d say the couple was afraid to let her go to sleep. The two sat on the couch across from the one she sat on. Their spacious living area and open kitchen only held two white sofas, an oak coffee table, and a sixty-plus inch television over a wood-burning fireplace. There was very little carpet, which was intentional, no doubt, to avoid covering the glossy, dark wood floors.
“I’m going to be okay, guys. And to be honest, I barely heard anything you said for the past hour.” Liz gave a lazy smile through her sleepy voice.
Ben looked at Megan tentatively then back at Liz. “We know. And I think I know at what points you had other memories too, Lizzy.”
Megan smiled. “Ben’s pretty good at picking up on when people have tuned him out.” She shrugged and winked at her husband.
“Honestly, Liz,” Ben continued, “we don’t know how fast these are coming back and if you happen to wake up…confused…we want to be here for you.”
Liz laughed. “So what, you guys are going to take turns being watch guards? Thank you, but I don’t need it.” She laughed again to conceal how utterly alone she felt at that moment. But not scared. Remembering who she was didn’t scare her. She was eager for it, in fact. More ready for it than she’d ever been.
But she knew better than to stress or rush the memories or to ask questions. The only time she would remember something is when she wasn’t searching or questioning or feeling much. The visions faded into her mind and just as simply, faded out. Not all had meaning.
