Days Forgotten but Not Lost

Mid-June 2001

Counselor:

I'm not saying you shouldn't be happy. I'm saying that even a happy lie is still a lie.

Patient:

Which is basically the same as saying I shouldn't be happy.

Counselor:

No. What I want you to understand is that you've only reached a temporary solution.

Patient:

And I should be bracing for it all to come crashing down?

Counselor:

No. Maybe. I'd rather you not be passive about it. I'd rather you think through what constructive, helpful next steps you can take to fix this.

Patient:

Maybe it doesn't need to be fixed.

Counselor:

Can you really picture that approach playing out in the long term? For the rest of your life?

Patient:

No. No, I guess not. I just... need a little time to figure out what to do.

Counselor:

And yes, now that I think about it, I want you to be ready for it to all come crashing down. Because if it does, I don't want you to react the way you did last time.

*******

It was a wonderful day. After Scott and I convinced ourselves to get out of bed, we went to lunch at a Ukrainian place a few blocks away (I had eaten my fill of Lebanese food the week before). Before heading out, I grabbed a small bag I had waiting near the door.

"What's that?" Scott asked.

"A surprise for later," I teased.

When lunch was winding down, Scott said, "I'm guessing you have some plans for us after this?"

"Yep," I smiled.

"And you're not going to tell me?"

"You'll see."

I drove us to a big park, one with a lot of green space and water features. I was especially glad that we had a sunny day. I carried the bag close to me while we found a shady spot to sit for a bit. Then I opened the bag and pulled out my surprise. In an old leather satchel, I had a classic 35mm camera with a lot of accessories. Scott's eyes went wide in awe.

"I know people are saying that digital cameras are the thing now, but I found this in my stuff. I... don't remember how to use it other than to point and click. But if you'd like to put the old girl through her paces and see how she does, I'd love to see what kind of shape she's in.

Scott was speechless, taking it gently into his hands almost like he was holding a newborn baby.

"I'm not

giving

it to you," I teased. "You can close your mouth."

He smiled and looked at me. "It just looks... like... a very special camera. And I'm familiar with this model. It's very good... if it's still working."

"Try it and see, I guess?"

For the next few hours, he tried a lot. There were several rolls of film in the case, and I had picked up a few more when I first found the camera, wondering if using it would spark some memories. But I had been too afraid to do anything with it, lest I break something.

Scott took pictures of scenery, of people, of birds, and even a few of me.

"I can't wait to see how they turn out," I said as we walked back to the car. "How long do I have to wait?"

"I... I used to develop the film myself. But I don't have a room that would work for that anymore. I think I still know a guy I would trust to do it for me, though. Maybe a few days?"

"Perhaps one of my upstairs rooms would work," I offered. "All I use is the library; the other one is open."

"I think the other room would work great," he said softly, still looking at the camera. "It would take some time to set up, though. Maybe later, right?"

I said nothing in response. I just smiled, gripped his bicep and leaned against him.

*******

We spent the rest of the day together, ordering a pizza and watching a movie on my couch. We made love before bed, and despite my promises of morning sex if he stayed the night, Scott needed to leave. He had to work in the morning and hadn't brought a change of clothes. I begged him to call in sick, but he said it was the last two days of the school year, so he had to be there.

He took with him the six rolls of film that he had shot that afternoon but left the camera. "Best to keep it here, where it belongs," he advised. He did let it linger in his hands a few seconds, though, before putting it down.

I sighed after I closed the door behind him. I guess I was falling in love. But there was one loose end to tie up. What the hell would I say to Vicky?

*******

A few evenings later that week, I was pulling my first attempt at lasagna out of the oven when Vicky knocked on my door. I had called her that day saying we needed to talk. When I opened the door, she was hunched over, hands on her knees. She was in her running gear and had headphones on. When she saw me, she pulled the headphones off, turned off her Walkman, and said, "Hey, I got your message. Your place is on my route, so I thought I'd stop by. Or is this something that might take a while?"

My conversations with Vicky, I had begun to notice, never took long. She usually wrapped them up pretty quickly. At first I blamed myself for not having anything to talk about, but now I was starting to see her in a different light.

"I don't know," I said. "It might just take a minute; I want to get your take on something. Wanna come in?"

"Yeah, I'll stand inside and feel the AC for a sec." As I closed the door behind her, she straightened up and said, "Oooh, something smells good."

"Lasagna. We'll see how it tastes. Join me if you want."

"Nah," she said, patting her belly. "Not good to eat on the run."

"Well, I won't keep you, then," I said as casually as I could. "I was just wondering why you didn't mention that you used to date Scott. And then I started to think he might be your mystery man. Isn't that funny?" I had opted for the blindside approach to try to get an unfiltered reaction. What I got was a panicked look. She stepped back like she expected me to hit her.

"Oh my God, how did you... You... you

talked

to him? After I... "

"After you fed me enough lies to scare me away from the first guy who actually

cares

about me? Yeah, kind of stupid of me, I know."

"He... he's messing with your head, Amelia. You can't trust... "

"Give it up, Vicky. His story checks out. Yours... doesn't." I hadn't actually checked on either story, but I was playing my hunch, hoping Vicky's reaction would confirm it. It did.

She glanced around like a trapped animal, desperately looking for a way out. She bit her bottom lip and looked at me, begging without words. "You don't understand, Amelia," she pleaded.

"Then explain it to me, Vicky. Explain it so I understand. I've lost my memory, but not my ability to

think.

"

She was still a little breathless from her run, which made her look all the more afraid. As I stared her down, waiting for an explanation I knew wouldn't come, Vicky closed her eyes and took a deep breath. When she opened her eyes they were focused, determined. She slowly stepped towards me and said in a steady voice, "Amelia, honey, I wasn't trying to keep

him

to myself. It was

you

. I was trying to keep

you

to myself." And before I could process what that might mean, she reached out and put her hands on my cheeks. Leaning in, she kissed me.

It took me about a second to react. Her lips were parting and her tongue had just tapped my lips when I pulled back and said, "No!... No! What the

hell

?"

"You don't remember, honey, it's OK. But haven't you wondered why I've been here all along, why I'm the

only

one? You loved me." Her voice was soothing, tender, pleading, but shaking. And none of it felt or sounded right. But... was this what I had been craving inexplicably for two years? Was this that longing I hadn't been able to identify or satisfy, the one that always hit me when I felt alone? I looked away, my hand on my forehead, dizzy from confusion.

"After your divorce, you came to me and I comforted you. And one thing led to another. We didn't plan it, but...it happened. You don't know how hard it's been... not being with you all this time, being right in front of you but still a stranger. There

is

no mystery man. I made it up because... because... when you never seemed interested in me... I didn't want you to get suspicious. I thought maybe you'd come around... in time."

I finally found my voice. It seemed... plausible, but not convincing. "Vicky... I don't really get it. Why... Why would you... "

Vicky wrung her hands nervously and tried to smile. "I know it doesn't all make sense, but I was desperate. And when I saw you with Scott, and I knew... from before... that he was a genuinely nice guy... I worried I would lose you forever. So I got scared and made up a lie. I didn't want to lose you."

She was trying to touch me, to put her hands on my arms, but I only wanted space. I felt violated. "Vicky... please... leave!"

She froze, her eyes almost crazy. "Leave?"

"Yes," I said firmly. "This is... a lot to take in. I need some time to think about it."

"Let me stay the night... I'll go shower. Let's have dinner together and talk and... tonight... we can talk, or..."

"Vicky, please go."

She looked deflated. I stepped around her, opened the door, and motioned with my hand that she should exit.

"Amelia... Please don't do this to me," she begged.

I closed my eyes and raised my hand in frustration. "Just... give me some space," I said as calmly as I could.

"This is a mistake," she said as she walked past me.

"A little time to think is not a mistake," I countered. "Especially if you love me." She winced at that last jab, then walked down the steps. I closed the door, then moved to a different room to watch from a window. She stomped her foot and yelled something into the air, then she put her headphones back on and started to run. In a few seconds, she was out of sight.

*******

I ate my lasagna (which had turned out OK) while deep in thought. I cleaned up and washed my dishes, still thinking. I showered and got in bed, never ceasing to turn over every angle in my head. I fell asleep still asking questions. Scott had left me a message inviting me to dinner at his place the next night; I forgot to respond.

The next day, I was distracted at work. I had gone in on a Saturday to work some overtime, but I worried I was being noticeably unproductive. I got home and found another message from Scott, including his address. I called him back and said I'd be over in a little bit. During the drive through the city, I tried to summarize what I'd concluded:

1) Regardless of what

may

have happened before my accident, the new me did not have any sexual attraction to women.

2) There were a lot of holes in Vicky's explanation, some of which I couldn't quite put my finger on, but overall it just sounded wrong. The fact that she so often encouraged me to move away and start over, that she was so seldom around, and that we usually met only when I called her all argued against the "lover in waiting" scenario.

3) The whole thing seemed more like a last desperate attempt to keep me away from Scott.

4) I was

definitely

falling in love with Scott.

I pulled into the parking lot of Scott's apartment building and briefly considered how much to tell him. I quickly decided that the answer to that was, "everything."

When Scott greeted me at the door, I threw my arms around him and gave him a big kiss. The kiss went on and on, threatening to preempt our dinner plans. When Scott finally initiated a pause, I said breathlessly, "That was

much

better than my last kiss."

Chuckling as he lead us away from the door and into his apartment, Scott said, "Sorry to have disappointed you last time."

Following him into the kitchen I said casually, "Wasn't you."

Not sure what my game was, Scott half turned and looked at me, saying, "OK, I'll bite. Who was it?"

"Oh, you know... Vicky."

"Bullshit," he said, his voice serious.

"I'll tell you all about it over dinner," I assured him.

*******

We sat at the small table in his kitchen and Scott listened wide-eyed as I recalled for him my encounter with Vicky from the night before. His jaw and neck clenched at times, and I could tell he wanted to say something, but then he would shove another bite into his mouth and keep listening. I told him about most of the things I'd concluded since then (saving only the last one for another time). By the time I was done, Scott had finished his meal and I'd barely gotten a few bites in.

"Eat," he said to me, pointing at my plate. When I started digging in, Scott said, "She's full of... lies, Millie. I know she wasn't with you before your accident. She was with

me

for some of that time, and then after that, she was very actively trying to get back together with me."

"That's about what I figured," I said between bites.

Scott half-smiled and shook his head. "I'm just surprised she was so desperate that she kissed you... and even offered to spend the night," he chuckled.

"Well, my guess is she was hoping I wouldn't feel ready to go any further. I almost wish I'd called her bluff, but I was just so freaked out."

"Yeah, well, I'm glad you didn't," he said. "She sounds even more unstable than she was when I was with her. I can't tell you what to do, but it might be best to just... cut things off with her... if I can say that without it sounding too ironic."

"Ironic? You mean because she tried to convince me to do the same thing to you?" I joked.

Scott shrugged and smiled. He got up to pour us some more drinks, and I finished the food on my plate. As we sat sipping our wine, I commented sadly, "I think what's going to be hard is that... Vicky really is my only friend right now... present company excepted, of course." Scott nodded to acknowledge that. "And more than that, she's my only friend from before my accident, my only real link to the past. I... I don't think I even have contact information for anyone else, as odd as that sounds."

Scott was looking down into his glass, a very serious expression forming on his face.

"So after this whole incident," I said, "I feel like I'm losing something very special. Maybe special is the wrong word. Significant."

It was quiet for a few moments. Then Scott cleared his throat and asked, "You wanna move to the couch?" I smiled and nodded. He stood up and said, "Bring your glass. I'll get the bottle."

Scott sat on the far side of the couch with his legs spread out. I nestled in with my back to him, leaning against him and stretching my legs out on the cushions. I grabbed his arm, which was on the back of the couch, and pulled it around myself, resting his hand on my belly.

"Millie, can I ask you some questions about Vicky? You might not like where this goes."

I thought about that cryptic remark, then said, "Go ahead."

Scott shifted a little in his seat, then asked me, "You told me Vicky got things ready for you to come home after your accident. Did you

see

your home before Vicky got there? When you were in the hospital, did you... Did she get to the house first?

It wasn't the kind of question I was expecting, but it was simple enough to answer. "Well, yeah, she got there first," I said. "She went and got it all ready for me a couple days before I was discharged."

"And have you looked through all the stuff in the apartment since then? Every box, every closet, every drawer?"

"I don't have much else to do," I joked. Scott kissed the top of my head and rubbed my belly. I said, "Yes. I've been through everything, trying to piece my memories back together."

"Not much to go on, was there? No recent pictures or memorabilia?"

"No. How..."

"What about that picture of you at the beach?"

"I found that behind some books once I started reading them," I mumbled, not liking where this seemed to be leading.

"So it's

possible

that Vicky might have gone into your apartment and... tried to make sure you wouldn't be able to put your past back together." I sat stunned as that suggestion sank in. Scott went on. "I mean, how odd is it that you had no recent pictures in sight or even in boxes, you had no address book to contact your friends, you have no clear links to your past? Who has a home like that?"

"It cuts both ways," I mumbled. "There aren't any pictures of her there, either."

"And I would wager that if you asked,

she

wouldn't be able to produce any pictures of the two of you together."

That

was

odd. Why hadn't we sat down with a photo album and talked about old times? Why were there no stories of our adventures together? I was sure she would say something like, "Oh, I thought that might upset you," or "You need to be more focused on starting a new life." But that was bullshit.

Scott interrupted my thoughts with another question. "Millie, does Vicky have any other access to your life? Did she help you make any changes? Your bank accounts or something?"

I thought back to those first weeks. The funny thing about amnesia was that, once you had fewer old memories, the recent ones were easier to keep track of. I had made sure no one else had access to my bank account. But...

"Mail," I stated.

"What?"

"Oh my God, she had me switch all my mail to a P.O. Box. And she kept a key, saying she could hang on to it in case I forgot where I put mine. Scott... she can intercept my mail! What if someone has tried to get in touch with me?"

He gave me a sad look. "So have you gotten any personal mail?"

"No," I said, my breath quickening. "And no phone calls, either. I thought...I just thought my former self was a lonely person."

Scott pulled me tighter into his arms and said, "Trust me, Millie. A woman like you would never be without people who loved her."

I sank down a little, trying to avoid the feeling that my world - such as it was - had begun to crumble around me. Scott was the only thing that felt stable. "Why... why would she do all that?" I asked, feeling even more violated than when she had kissed me. "Why would she erase my past like that? Why cut me off?"

"Can you think of a reason?" Scott asked gently.

I tried to. I tried to give her the benefit of the doubt. I could only come up with one idea. "I know... I know she's always trying to get me to move away, to start a new life somewhere else. She says it's for my own good. She really hates what my ex-husband, Maurice, did to me. Maybe she wanted to get rid of any trace of

him

? But this all seems a little extreme."

"Maurice? Right... Interesting. So she's protecting you? I guess that's one possibility," he said softly. "There's probably more to the story, though. Another possibility is that she has some vested interest in you being gone, one way or another."

"Well," I said, a little sadly, "it seems like everyone is hiding something. Everyone except me, because I have nothing left to hide." I thought for a moment, then trying to lighten the mood, I said, "What a crazy coincidence, though, that you got dragged into this."

"Yeah," Scott mumbled, staring across the room. "Small world." Then making a move to get off the couch, he said, "Hey, wanna see the pictures from last weekend?"

"Yes!" I said, swinging my legs onto the floor and standing up to follow him.

"Just hang tight. I'll bring them out here," he said, so I sat back down on the couch. A minute later, Scott returned with a stack of large photos.

"Whoa, you had them enlarged?"

He laughed and said, "No... I always have them made this size. Anything smaller and you lose a lot of detail." Then he sat next to me and spread the photos out on the coffee table. I carefully placed my wine glass on the opposite end of the table and wiped my fingers on my shorts. Scott began holding them up, one by one. I was amazed at how close-up he could get with those lenses; some of the pictures of birds were amazingly detailed and colorful. We chuckled at some of the pictures he had taken of me. I had been a little self-conscious and had acted silly to cover it up.