by Amanda Dick
As if she could tell I was thinking about her, she scooted closer to me and reached for my hand. I took it, pleasantly surprised, and smiled at her. But she was deadly serious. The kind of deadly serious that made my pulse race.
“I need to tell you something,” she said.
Her hand was trembling in mine. I didn’t like the way she was looking at me, as if she was about to say goodbye.
“I want to be honest with you, because you’ve been honest with me,” she said, almost in a whisper. “Except, I don’t really know how to say this without you thinking I’m some kind of… “
“What?”
It seemed neither of us were capable of speaking above a whisper.
She took a shaky breath and squeezed my hand. “Promise me you’ll hold my hand until I’m finished? Because I don’t know if I can do this if you don’t.”
My heart began to pound so loudly in my ears, I could barely hear her. “I promise.”
I had spent the past few hours wondering what she had been through, who she had lost, how it had shaped her. And now she looked like she was about to tell me and I was scared to death. My mind spun through the possibilities while she searched for the right words. Above all, I wanted to make sure I smiled, squeezed her hand, offered her the kind of support she had offered me. She didn’t deserve anything less.
“From the first moment I saw you, I knew you were the one I’d been looking for,” she whispered. “I can’t explain it, but everything just seemed to fall into place. It felt like we were meant to be, and it made me feel so complete.”
Tears formed in her eyes and I think mine, too. I knew exactly how she felt. Yet, I couldn’t help but hold back the elation. She hadn’t finished.
“I know what we have isn’t normal,” she continued. “But maybe that’s the point – maybe the fact that we can’t explain it is what makes it magical. Maybe that’s what love is. Magic.”
I nodded. After all, I’d come to the same conclusion myself, not too long ago.
“I’ve been lying to you,” she whispered, tears finally escaping and sliding down her cheek. “And I’m so sorry. I don’t want to lie to you anymore – I wish I could tell you everything you want to know, but it’s not that easy.”
I had no idea what she was talking about. I opened my mouth to seek clarification, but she shook her head, silencing me.
“My name isn’t Maia – not my real name, anyway. I don’t know what my real name is. I don’t remember.”
I blinked, confusion whirling up inside of me.
“I woke up one day in a hospital and I don’t know how I got there. I was naked, I had no ID, I had a shaved head and a fresh scar on my scalp. No one knew where I came from. I don’t know my name, or where I was born, or what happened to me. I don’t remember any of it.”
She had tears crawling down both cheeks now, almost white in the moonlight, and she was staring at me with such a haunting intensity that I wondered if this was all just a dream. Was I really here? Maybe I’d fallen asleep already, and this was just some kind of twisted nightmare, brought on by stress. Maybe I was still inside, in bed.
“I don’t understand,” I managed, my voice hollow. “How can you not remember who you are? Are you talking about amnesia?”
She nodded, sniffing. God, the pain was just rolling off her. I was right. This was some kind of nightmare, and we were stuck in it together.
“So Maia isn’t your real name?”
“Do you know what Maia means?” she asked, flashing me a ghost of a smile that tore up my insides. “I looked it up. I chose it because it means the goddess of spring… and I was reborn.”
She was serious. She was deadly serious. This wasn’t a nightmare, this was real.
“Holy shit,” I murmured.
She leaned into me, burying herself in my arms, and despite the whirlwind in my head, I couldn’t help but think how right it felt, to be holding her like this. Even though she had a million secrets. Even though I hardly knew her. Even though I was ill-equipped to deal with any of this.
Amnesia.
It explained so much. Why she was so reluctant to talk about herself. Why she always steered the conversation back to me. Why she seemed to be holding back. She wasn’t deliberately trying to shut me out, she just didn’t know where the door was.
It made what was happening to us seem even more poignant. I was ready to believe in fate, destiny, serendipity – whatever name it went by. How else could anyone explain how our paths had crossed?
“I’m so sorry this is happening to you” I whispered into her hair.
I had a thousand questions for her, but one shone out above all the others.
LYING DOWN ON THE wooden jetty, Maia curled into my side, we stared up at the night sky. I was reminded of the Counting Crows song, about lying beneath a bowl of stars. They were so close, yet just out of reach. I was familiar with that feeling, of reaching for answers that seemed just beyond my fingertips. Apparently, Maia was familiar with that feeling, too.
It was easier to talk out there, in the semi-darkness. It was almost as if a cloak had been thrown over us, hiding us from the world, from reality. There’s something about sharing secrets under the light of the moon that makes everything seem less daunting. It suspends reality for a while. It gives you hope, and hope was something that you could never have enough of.
“How does it feel?” I asked, running my fingertips gently up her arm.
Her body shuddered and I pulled her closer.
“Sometimes I feel like I’m not really here, like this is all just a dream,” she whispered, her words lingering in the warm, heavy air. “I feel like I’m constantly waiting for something that never comes.”
I couldn’t help but draw comparisons. I knew that feeling. Ever since Em disappeared, I’d been waiting. Waiting for news, waiting for answers, waiting to resume my life.
I’d been biting my tongue until now, but I had to ask.
“I know this is insane,” I said, squeezing her hand, resting on my bare chest. “But maybe you’re here for a reason? Maybe you being here, in Raglan, isn’t an accident.”
She moved her hand, entwining her fingers with mine. I could feel her heart pounding against my ribs.
“You think I might be her. Emily,” she said, as I struggled to breathe evenly. “I thought so, too. As soon as I saw the photos on your wall, I wondered.”
I needed to see her face. I sat up, pulling her with me, grabbing both her hands in mine and holding them tight.
“Don’t you think it’s possible?” I asked, my heart about to burst straight out of my chest. “It could be possible, right?”
She looked like she really wanted to believe me, but I could also tell that she didn’t. Not quite, anyway.
“Anything’s possible,” she murmured.
“You don’t believe it, though.”
“I don’t know what to believe anymore. I may look like her, but I don’t know if I am her.”
I tried to think about this with my head, not my heart, but it was like separating two halves of myself. The half that wanted Emily back, and the half that wanted Maia to stay. The thing was, I had come to the realisation just days ago that I was willing to let Em go if it meant letting Maia in. But now that the opposite seemed possible, I was torn.
She let go of my hand and picked up a lock of her long, brown hair. “My hair is different.”
She was right. Maybe I was grasping at straws, but either way, I had to know.
“You said when you woke up in hospital, your head was shaved,” I said. “Maybe it grew back a different colour? I mean, you’d been through major trauma. I’ve heard of that kind of thing happening.”
She didn’t look convinced, but I wasn’t going to let that stop me. “Look, I know this is a long shot – all of this is. But you can’t deny the fact that you and I have a connection. And while you might not realise how unusual that is, I do. It’s never happened to me before. Maybe the reason we have this connection i
s because we already knew each other.”
She stared down at our hands, and I could tell she was trying.
“These hallucinations, or visions or whatever it is you’ve been having – maybe it’s not sleep deprivation? Maybe it’s something to do with your memory coming back? Maybe being here with me is helping you remember.”
I was floundering, but it seemed as if it could be possible. If she was Em, it made sense, in lots of ways. But I didn’t want her to think that was the only explanation. What if I was wrong? What if she wasn’t Em? What if she was just some girl who looked a lot like Em, but with a family of her own out there, looking for her, just like we were looking for Em?
“What if I’m not her?” she asked, reading my mind as she looked up at me through amber-coloured eyes. “What if I’m someone else?”
“You’re you,” I said firmly. “And whoever that is, it’s you I want – this version of you, the one that’s sitting here, with me, right now. I’m just trying to make some kind of sense of this, that’s all.”
“Don’t you think I’ve been trying to do that, all this time?” she pleaded. “I want to know who I am. I want to know where I was born, whether or not I have family out there. But if that means losing you, then –“
“Hey – you’re not losing me, I’m not going anywhere.”
“I know how much you love her. If we somehow find out that I’m not her, where does that leave us?”
Oh God. My head felt like it was splitting open. I reached over to cup her cheek in my hand.
“It leaves us right here, right where we are now. Together. You and me. Nothing’s gonna change, I promise.” I smoothed away a stray tear from her cheek with my thumb. “I love you – you, whoever you are and wherever you’re from and whatever your name is.”
Those hauntingly beautiful eyes shone in the moonlight. “I love you, too.”
It was the first time we’d both said it. It should have been momentous, but it felt more like a check-box.
There. Done.
Because we didn’t need to say it, not really. I think, deep down, we both just knew.
“Please,” she said. “Don’t tell anyone about this. I don’t want anyone to know, not yet.”
I didn’t even think twice about promising her that. I didn’t want to get anyone’s hopes up until we could find out for sure. If we could find out. I wasn’t even sure that was possible, but we had to try.
I’d been right, and so had Bridget. She was lost, but she’d also lost someone. She’d lost everyone – even herself.
YOUR BODY IS GOVERNED by rules. What it needs, when it needs it. If you ignore the rules, you pay the price. But there are times when your body ceases to follow the rules. For example, when you first fall in love. The endorphins rushing through your bloodstream can keep you going for days. It’s a natural high, one of the most pleasurable things you can experience. Sleep is irrelevant, a luxury. Food seems superfluous, your appetite dries up. Your body ignores the rules and sustains itself, for a time at least.
It was a similar phenomenon when I was surfing, when the waves were particularly great, when your mind and body seem alert and working in perfect harmony. But nothing beats the feeling of falling in love.
I should be exhausted. After staying up half the night with Maia, I could count the number of hours sleep I got last night on one hand. Between the scene at Bridget’s and Maia’s revelation afterwards, there was no way on God’s green earth that I should be feeling this good. And yet I was.
Part of me felt guilty. I should be worried about how Bridget was doing. And I was, but probably not nearly as much as I should’ve been. What occupied my thoughts now – and what had been all day – was Maia.
Could it be possible that she really was Emily? Could I be that lucky? We didn’t know for sure, but to me at least, it seemed a very real likelihood. There were a lot of similarities, now that I thought back on it. They seemed like small things, but isn’t that what it boiled down to? Who were we but a series of preferences? Likes and dislikes, big things and small. I hadn’t mentioned any of this to Maia because I didn’t want to freak her out. I could tell that she was reluctant to get her hopes up, but I could also tell that she wanted answers.
If she was Emily, that meant I got to keep her – forever this time.
If she wasn’t, then we had another voyage of discovery to embark upon. She must have family out there, friends, people who were looking for her. Perhaps I could help her discover the missing pieces of her past. If we couldn’t have a happy ending with Em, maybe I could help Maia get hers. She sure as hell deserved one.
I finished work and made my way into town. I went to the café’s front door this time, hoping I could get a few minutes alone with Bridget. I saw her through the window, and she spotted me right away. She opened the door to me, smiling wearily.
“Hello love, come in,” she said, waving me inside. “Come to pick up Maia, have you?”
“Yes, and no. How are you?”
She closed the door behind me. “I’m fine. Thanks again for last night.”
The bruise on her cheek was just beginning to come out, although she had tried her best to cover it with make-up. I couldn’t blame her. I was sure there would’ve been a few questions and second glances today.
I pulled her into my arms. “Have you seen him?”
“He came in earlier, to get his keys,” she mumbled into my shoulder, rubbing my back a couple of times and then letting me go. “He apologised, too.”
Of course he had. “Did he remember what happened last night?”
“I don’t really know. He was cagey. You know how he is,” she smiled tightly.
Unfortunately, I did know. I was less inclined to call him ‘cagey’ and more inclined to say he was suffering from an alcohol-induced blackout, but I didn’t push it. She had suffered enough already.
“Let me know if he gives you any trouble, okay? I can be over there in minutes.”
“Thanks, love. I’m sorry I had to drag you into it last night, I know how nasty he can be.”
“Don’t worry about it, I can handle it – honestly. But this pushing you around shit has to stop.”
“I know. I’m going to try and talk to him about it again. I hope you managed to get a good sleep?”
“I slept fine,” I lied. “What about you? How’s your cheek? It looks pretty sore.”
She touched her cheekbone with her fingertips. “It’s fine. Icing it last night helped with the swelling and the bruising. It’s still a bit tender, but I’m sure it’ll be okay in a couple of days.”
I was sure it would be too, but that was hardly the point. I was about to suggest we look into some kind of residential drug and alcohol programme for Alex, when she completely blind-sided me.
“Maia told me she moved in with you.”
I nodded, panicking slightly. It was hardly a secret, but I had wanted to tell her myself, although I hadn’t exactly told Maia that. I wasn’t sure what she would think. I wasn’t sure what anyone would think. I’d only known Maia a week, after all. As it turned out, I needn’t have worried.
She smiled up at me, tears gathering in her eyes. “I think it’s wonderful. You two really seem to have hit it off. You make each other happy, and that makes me happy, too.”
I nodded. She had no idea how much I had needed her to say that. It felt like the weight of the world had been lifted off my shoulders. I pulled her into another hug, holding on tight.
“Thank you,” I whispered over the top of her head.
“You deserve to be happy, love.”
God, I hoped so.
I looked up to see Maia standing in the kitchen doorway, hands clasped behind her back.
Bridget pulled away gently, wiping her eyes. “Let me get your coffee and the eclairs ready for you. I believe you have a hot date.” She glanced over her shoulder at Maia, then turned back to me with a smile. “He’s really looking forward to meeting her.”
“I know. I’m kinda
looking forward to him meeting her, too,” I admitted.
“She’s a bit nervous,” she whispered, winking. “You might want to reassure her while I get everything together for you. I’ll leave you two alone.”
I could feel myself blushing. Damn it. I saw Bridget squeeze Maia’s hand as she walked through the back, into the kitchen. As soon as she disappeared, I held out my hand to Maia. She smiled, walking towards me and straight into my arms.
Sometimes I had to pinch myself. There was no hesitation, no reluctance on her part, not anymore. She came to me willingly, openly, seeking me out. Did she know how deliriously happy that made me? We had entrusted ourselves to each other, letting our souls guide us. It was a revelation for me, and I’m sure, considering her past – or lack of one – it was for her, too.
She settled into my embrace as if she belonged there. Hand, meet glove.
“He’s gonna love you,” I murmured, kissing the top of her head and pulling her closer. “But not as much as I do.”
I WAS RIGHT. HE DID love her. From the moment Henry laid eyes on Maia – recovering quickly, thanks to my previous conversation with him about how much she looked like Em – I could tell he was under her spell.
He got the side plates out of the cupboard. In all of my Thursday afternoon visits, we had never once used plates. We usually ate straight from the paper bags, on the kitchen table. But not today. Today, we ate from delicately patterned china that I couldn’t even remember seeing before. The Good China, no doubt. Glenda would’ve approved.
“So, Heath tells me you’ve been doing some travelling around,” Henry said, pouring her a cup of tea from the china teapot that matched the plates.
Another thing I didn’t realise he had. His everyday teapot was an aluminium one, all dinged up from years of use. God knew where he’d been hiding this one, but it looked pristine. I smiled to myself. He was bringing out the big guns for her.
Maia glanced over at me, and I could tell she was uncomfortable about lying to him. I wanted to squeeze her hand or otherwise show her some moral support, but we were sitting opposite each other. Instead, I smiled, silently encouraging her.
