Two
Two days later
Aubrey blinked her eyes open and instantly wanted to shut them again. Her head ached, but it wasn’t a normal ache. It wasn’t like when she slept on her neck wrong or spent too much time looking down at her laptop. It was a full skull ache, with battering rams and spikes that’d been driven in by sledgehammers. She reached up to touch her temple, and that’s when she encountered the bandage. Not a huge white gauze wrapped Van Gogh style, but a decent-size patch covering some sort of injury.
Also, she was not in her bedroom at home, recovering from too many Vic-induced orgasms. She was...in a hospital room?
Her mother leaned over Aubrey’s supine form, worry lines bisecting her fair strawberry-blond eyebrows. “How did you sleep?”
“Um.” Aubrey looked around at the muted tan walls, the uninspired abstract floral paintings, and finally down at the scratchy white sheets and avocado-green throw covering her lower half. Even in a suite, with no need for a privacy curtain, there was no missing that she was in a hospital bed. Aubrey shut her eyes and tried to think back on what could have landed her in here, but her mind was a literal blank. “What happened?”
Her mother’s gaze slid to the side, where Aubrey’s father, Eddie, stood, his smile broadcasting as much worry as Mary’s frown. He was a gentle man, and Aubrey had always been Daddy’s girl, but the tenderness with which he looked at her was scaring her a little.
“You took a spill, gingerbread,” he said, using her nickname from when she was a small girl. “Just a light knock on the head. But we couldn’t be too careful.”
“Oh.” She didn’t have any memory of the “spill” she’d taken. Patchy memories would be concerning, but she didn’t even have those. “Where was I when it happened?”
“It doesn’t matter, dear,” her mother said, which was a weird response.
“Of course it matters.” Aubrey pushed her hands into the mattress and sat straighter, earning a spike of pain down the back of her skull for her trouble. She held her head in her hands and breathed deeply, her eyes settling on the blanket and the matching avocado-green gown she was wearing. “I can’t remember what happened. That’s a problem.”
“It’s not as bad as you might think.” A throaty female voice entered the room ahead of the woman who owned it. The doctor had a full, friendly face and sleek black hair, and she was at least an inch taller than Aubrey’s father. She carried an iPad in one hand, which she glanced down at as she introduced herself. “I’m Dr. Mitchell. How are you feeling?”
“I—My head hurts. And I can’t remember falling. Is anything broken?”
“No broken bones. The cut on your head was minor. You can probably lose that bandage in a few days.” Dr. Mitchell hummed as she scrolled through her tablet. “I see you fell during the chili cook-off at a pool party of some kind.”
“The TCC charity pool party,” Aubrey said automatically, but she didn’t recall being there, only that she’d had it on her schedule. “I was announcing the winners, right?”
“The stage collapsed while you were at the podium,” the doctor answered calmly. “You were knocked unconscious, which can be very serious. Overall, your scans looked good, and there is no swelling in the brain. It’s normal to have gaps in your memory in the meantime. They should return little by little.”
“Gaps? How many gaps?” Aubrey’s heart raced as she absorbed the news. She fell and knocked herself unconscious? Her memory should return? None of it sounded like good news to her. Her parents were wearing twin expressions of worry, and the doctor was talking to Aubrey like she was younger than the sixteen-year-old students she taught. A wave of relief covered her as she realized she remembered that, at least. She was a teacher, high school. Advanced Writing 101. “I was voted teacher of the year.”
“Well, that is some accomplishment. Congratulations.” The doctor offered a pretty smile that reached her eyes. Aubrey wanted to trust her, but she was having trouble not fleeing from the room in a panic. “It’s important for you to rest. Take it easy.”
“The school year just started,” Aubrey huffed. “I have lesson plans. I have students counting on me to—”
“You have to rest, honey,” her mother said. “Doctor’s orders.”
Aubrey turned to Dr. Mitchell and pleaded with her eyes.
“I can’t allow you to return to school until I’m satisfied you’ve recovered. I suggest you stay with your parents for the foreseeable future. They told me they have plenty of space.”
“I repainted the guest room,” Mary Collins chirped.
“No, Mom. I...I’ll stay in my apartment.” Wherever that was, she thought as another dart of panic embedded itself in her chest.
“I’m sorry, Aubrey. You can’t be alone right now,” the doctor said.
“Well, then I’ll stay with Vic.” That made the most sense. She wasn’t moving home like some prepubescent child. “Where is he, by the way?”
Her mother’s jaw dropped while her father’s mouth pulled into a tight line of disapproval.
“Vic’s not welcome here,” her father growled. She knew Vic wasn’t her father’s favorite person, but it was about time he got over it. They’d been dating for nearly fifteen years at this point.
“You have no right to keep him from me. He’s my boyfriend. I love him. I need him, especially since I can’t remember anything.” She squeezed her eyes shut and pounded her balled fist on her leg. Her eyes sprang open, her heart thrashing as a memory descended. “We were eating cannoli together the night before the pool party.”
“Vic?” her mother asked.