Nicole wasn't sure what the nature of their relationship was and she was too afraid to ask. It was clear that Jack knew she didn't remember things, but she didn't want to let on about exactly how blank her brain was. She spent a lot of time, while Jack was working, trying to prompt herself to remember things. She'd give herself very specific assignments like 'remember exactly how you met Jack.' She'd scroll through possibilities and assess whether they fit, whether they seemed plausible. Did they meet at a bar? She wasn't 21 yet. Did she have a fake ID? The bar didn't feel right. There was little chance that they'd ever worked together. She didn't know what he did, but he had worked from home every day the past week, since she first remembered waking up in his bed. He only left the house once that entire week, to go grocery shopping. He was gone for about an hour and a half. They definitely didn't meet at the gym because Jack had all the equipment at home and she obviously had never seen the inside of a gym. Jack showed her a couple of things that she could do on his equipment and it all seemed completely foreign to her.
She still hadn't worked up the courage to ask Jack how old he was. He was obviously in very good shape and was quite strong. She found him attractive and she could see how she might have gotten involved with him in the first place. All of his rules though... of course those pointed to something less than consensual, even though she obeyed each one unquestioningly. It was just in her personality, she decided, to not make a fuss, to not object, to be quiet and follow directions. It just felt natural to her to comply.
But he rarely deflected any of the questions that she had felt brave enough to ask him. He tried to make conversation with her, especially over meals, but she was learning she wasn't very talkative by nature and it wasn't easy for her to engage. So when she did, Jack seemed amused and frequently volunteered information.
"You don't like the carrots?" He nodded towards her plate as they sat eating dinner one night. She looked down at her plate where she had eaten the stir-fried rice that Jack had made around all the small, cubed carrot pieces.
"No, sorry," she didn't look up at him, feeling her face flush.
"It's ok if you don't like something," he told her. "You know, when it comes to food." She looked up at him and he winked at her.
"Maybe I could cook something one day?" Jack's eyebrows came up in surprise.
"Yeah, sure. Did you have something in mind?" He seemed interested.
"No. I don't know." She shrugged, putting another forkful of rice into her mouth.
"I have cookbooks in the cabinet above the stove. You can look through them and find something that sounds good," he suggested.
"Ok," that sounded like a good idea to her. She felt a bit of boldness at that moment, like they were having a pleasant conversation and he was in a good mood and maybe she'd have enough courage to ask him some questions. "Ummm... can I ask you something?"
"Shoot," he cocked his head to the side. He'd previously answered for her that they were in Oregon, though he wouldn't get more specific about the location, and that he didn't have any family who were still alive. When she asked about her family, he was quiet for a long time, as if trying to figure out whether or not to tell her this because it would be devastating, but he eventually told her 'I don't think you have any either, but I'm not completely sure.' It left her quiet the rest of the night, trying to force any kind of memory to emerge about her family.
"How old are you?" She bit her lip after asking him the question. He put his fork down on the empty plate and gave her a crooked smile, just one side of his lips lifting.
"Forty-two," he told her. Her mouth must have dropped open in disbelief because Jack leaned over to her, reaching his hand out, and with a tap on her chin closed it for her.
"I... Ummm... I'm sorry. I didn't think you were..." Nicole didn't know the right thing to say. She felt her face flushing again, no doubt turning beet red. He was more than twice her age. He didn't look it, but apparently, he was.
"I'll take that as a compliment," Jack smirked, getting up to put his plate in the dishwasher. "Finish up your dinner."
"How did we even meet?" She blurted out, her thoughts coming out aloud. What was the context in which she could have met a forty-two-year-old man?! Jack turned to her and his expression didn't look amused this time. He wasn't exactly angry, but definitely stern, his lips a flat line across his face.
"I'm not gonna answer that, Nicole," he was firm on that response, and her breath caught. She was afraid that she overstepped, that this was something she wasn't supposed to admit to not knowing. She looked down at her plate.