“Isn’t her recollection of you what you want?” he asked gently, and I could clearly hear the exhaustion in his tone now. I’d been sitting in front of him asking him a plethora of questions over the last hour and a half. In the beginning, he’d been quite glad to answer all my questions, but as I kept on repeating them to be sure of every instruction he was giving to me, he seemed to fade before my eyes.
But I was terrified of making a mistake with her. I couldn’t make any mistakes with her. This was my only chance, and I would rather kill myself than screw it all up by being careless.
I gave him my response. “It is, but … if there is even the slightest chance I will damage her.”
He leaned forward. “Let’s do things this way. Let’s play it by ear. When do you intend on paying her a visit?”
“Tomorrow.”
“Well then, go up to her, and watch her face for any recognition of you whatsoever. If there is none, then you can go ahead and introduce yourself.”
I frowned. “By a different name?”
He sighed heavily. “If that’s what you want.”
“Won’t that complicate things? It won’t be in my best interest if she eventually regains her memory, and finds out that I lied to her.”
“Caleb,” the man said, completely fed up. “We spoke about this exact thing thirty minutes ago. I cannot tell you what to do. You can bounce ideas off me, but in the end, you must decide yourself. Let’s break it down. You definitely don’t want her to remember the details of her terrible past.”
I nodded. “That’s right.”
“But you want her to remember you?”
“Only if it doesn’t bring the other stuff back,” I replied.
“Caleb,” he said gently. “It will not be your fault if she remembers the darkness again. No matter how bad they are, they still belong to her. Don’t keep obsessing over what she will or will not remember. Be honest with her, and allow things to take its natural course. One thing I can tell you is people who lose parts of their memories often feel vulnerable and exposed. They have to live with the fact that there is a crucial part of their history that is missing and the unsettling feeling that out there someone knows something about them that they themselves don’t.”
He paused.
“In fact, the patients I’ve treated, who have suffered from memory blanks caused by trauma, ended up being incredibly guarded and careful around people. They had little habits, fears, and instinctive bodily reactions that they couldn’t understand. One woman I was seeing was afraid of only one breed of dog. For many years, she couldn’t understand it and it bothered her immensely. Then one day she found out from an old school friend that breed of dog had almost bitten them and chased them up a tree. It was a great relief for her to find out and after that she could put that irrational fear aside. With such a dark and horrifying past hidden away from your friend, she must be a bundle of nerves and paranoia. My advice to you is this. Go slowly. Don’t push or try to force her memories. You’ll make mistakes along the way as you try to find a way back into her life, but the one thing she should never fault you on is that you were dishonest with her. Or you used the vulnerability of her missing memories against her. That is the last thing that you want to do.”
He then rose to indicate the meeting was over.
“Thank you, doc,” I said slowly, and finally forced myself to leave his office.
5
Willow
The store’s front door tinkled as it was pushed open.
I was going through our surprisingly impressive sales report for the day, and although I wasn’t really expecting any more customers, I wasn’t averse to more.
When I lifted my head and saw the three girls who had come into the store though, my heart fell into my stomach. Sandra, Victoria, and Helen were dressed to the nines in scanty dresses and ankle-breaker heels. If they had intended to look as if they were man-hunting, they had succeeded. I gazed at them blankly, at the cans of beer they already had in their hands.
“It’s almost nine, Mother Teresa,” Sandra called out, almost giddy with excitement. “Get away from that counter and come change. I brought gorgeous things with me.”
“C’mon, Willow. Don’t be a stick in the mud,” Helen screamed. “It’s going to be an awesome night.”
I dragged Sandra in the back of the shop and whispered fiercely, “Why are they here?”
“Victoria called,” she said with an unconcerned shrug. “She said they were heading over to Bacchus House. Apparently, there’s a speed dating event for singles there, and of course, a whole hour of free sangrias on the house, so I thought we could all get drunk and loosen up a little there before we hit the town. What response did you expect me to give them?”