The Life Lucy Knew

by Karma Brown

  I did it without thinking, and it shocked both of us.

  He took a quick step back and placed his fingers to his lips (which I had just kissed) and I stammered an apology, suddenly sobered, followed by a quick goodbye before nearly running up the stairs to the front door. But Daniel was right behind me, gently holding my arm, and he turned me to face him before I made it through the door. I was mortified by my lack of judgment, my lack of respect for Matt, Daniel, even Margot.

  “Lucy, wait,” Daniel said, his voice gruff. “It’s okay.”

  I shook my head, tears close. “It’s not okay.” Even though I couldn’t seem to separate the truth from memory, I was still in charge of my decisions. And I couldn’t blame anyone else for what had led me to kiss my ex-fiancé in front of the condo I shared with my current boyfriend.

  “I’m sorry,” I said again, pulling away from Daniel. “I shouldn’t have come out tonight. And I should never have...” I left it at that, because we both knew what I was apologizing for. I looked into his face, saw compassion there and something else. Pity, I thought, which made my insides feel as chilled as my outsides.

  “You’re married. I have Matt. Who is sleeping upstairs and has no idea I’m out with you tonight and has been perfect through everything and doesn’t deserve any of this.”

  “Please, don’t cry, Lucy,” he said. “What’s really going on with you?”

  I let out a sharp laugh, and Daniel looked confused. And then I did the second thing I knew I’d probably regret later—I told him the truth about my memory.

  There were a few moments of stunned silence as I stood there, shaking with the cold and adrenaline, as Daniel searched for the right thing to say. “That explains a few things,” he finally offered, and then he smiled that smile of his and I felt like everything might be okay. Soon we were laughing, so hard tears streamed down my face from the release, and I held my stomach as I tried to catch my breath.

  “God, I needed that,” I said, taking in a deep breath. The cold air tickled my throat as I gulped in a few desperate breaths, but it felt good.

  “So, when you say you remember us being married, you mean you have a memory of the actual wedding? The one that didn’t happen?”

  “Yes, I have this very vivid memory of our wedding.”

  “No kidding,” Daniel said, eyes widening. “And it feels real? Like, really real?”

  “Honestly it feels as real as all my other memories,” I said. “It’s been somewhat confusing, to say the least.” This last part I added quietly, because I was feeling exposed in a way I wasn’t prepared for.

  He exhaled loudly, as if he had been holding his breath. “And the award for the biggest understatement of the night goes to...Lucy Sparks!” He was trying to inject some levity into the moment, but his voice fell flat by the end.

  “I didn’t plan on telling you about, you know, all this.” I gestured in circles beside my head. “I know it’s weird, and I’m sorry to lay it all on you tonight.”

  “I’m not sure exactly what to say, Lucy.”

  I grabbed his arms with vise-grip-like fingers. “Nothing. You don’t need to say a thing. Daniel, you know I don’t expect anything, right?” I shook my head, released his arms when I realized how tightly I was hanging on. “Okay, that didn’t come out the way... Sorry, I meant I don’t want you to do anything.” I groaned and he laughed, which made me feel immensely better. “Like I said, things are a bit of a mess. Can we pretend none of this ever happened?”

  “Lucy, stop. It’s okay. It’s not what I was expecting you to say obviously, and I can’t say I totally get what’s happened here, but it’s fine. I’ve forgotten all about it already. Promise.”

  “Phew, good,” I said, nodding, trying to act like what had transpired between us was meaningless and insignificant. Which to Daniel it likely was, at least in the long run, but for me...well, it confused me even more and I felt like a million fire ants were crawling under my skin. I shivered violently.

  “Are you going to be okay to get upstairs?” he asked. “You’re pretty drunk.”

  “Oh, I’m long past drunk,” I said, snort-laughing as I did. I clapped a hand to my mouth, embarrassed by the outburst, but Daniel smiled. “But I’m okay. Hey, thanks again for being so great tonight.”

  “Anytime,” he said. “Honestly, anytime.” My chest constricted and I forced myself to key in the door code without looking back at him, to step through the door and have it close behind me, only then turning to wave a final goodbye to Daniel, assuming it would be the last time we saw each other.

  29

  I took the stairs slowly, pausing on the landings between flights to catch my breath and compose myself before walking through our front door. In part I was relieved. I’d told Daniel the truth and nothing terrible had happened. We said goodbye and all was fine, or at least mostly fine. I was embarrassed and wished I could take it all back—hit the rewind button to when his message arrived and stayed at home instead—but it was done. I survived, like Dr. Kay said I would.

  But I was also deeply disappointed. I’m not sure what I hoped might happen, but I would be lying if I didn’t admit to having fantasized about the moment all was revealed. How by some strange mechanism Daniel believed my memory of us being married, or it shook things loose in my brain so everything could return to how it was supposed to be. The memories of Daniel would disappear, and the ones with Matt would take their place and life would make sense again.

  I climbed the last flight of stairs, stumbling on the second to last riser and taking an epic fall, banging my chin on the smooth concrete floor when my hands missed their mark and my face took the brunt. My teeth slammed together when my chin hit, and pain reverberated through my skull. Shit. The last thing I needed was to give myself another concussion. I should have much, much less to drink going forward. I pressed a gloved hand to my chin and was glad to see there was no blood.

  Getting up with some difficulty, all the layers bundling me from the cold also making it difficult to recover gracefully, I finally found my house keys deep inside my coat pocket. Holding my breath as I slid in the key, I turned it slowly to avoid the noise of the lock disengaging. Opening the door gently, I stepped inside and tiptoed into the living room.

  I shouldn’t have bothered being so quiet, and I’m not sure how I didn’t notice the lights on, but there sat Matt, on the couch, arms crossed over his chest. He did not look happy. He also held my phone in his hand. Oh, no. I had forgotten to take my phone with me.

  “Why are you up?” was the first thing I thought to say. And based on his expression, the deepening of his frown, it was not the right thing.

  “Where were you?” he asked, anger seeping into his words. I knew he had probably been more worried than angry, but now that I was home and he could see I was fine, anger trumped concern.

  “I left you a note,” I replied, hearing how lame it sounded as it came out. I pointed to the table and saw the note was still there. “I couldn’t sleep.”

  He stood and came toward me, taking stock of my face. “What happened to your chin?”

  My hand fluttered to my face, and my fingers—now gloveless—felt a growing lump on my chin. “I slipped on the stairs.”

  “Have you been out drinking?”

  I took a step back, busied myself with wrestling off my coat and hanging it on the hook by the door. But all the rum had messed with my balance, and I missed the hook, stumbled and slammed into the brick wall to prevent myself from falling over completely. Matt tried to grab my arm to keep me from falling, but he wasn’t quite fast enough and so the wall caught me instead. “I had a drink.” It was true, I had had a drink. And then a few more.

  “Where? By yourself?”

  I finally managed to get my coat on the hook and pushed past Matt into the living room, then to the kitchen, where I ran the tap until the water was cold before filling a
glass. He followed me. “Why the third degree?” I said, knowing I was only inflaming the situation by not answering his questions directly. I gulped down the cold water, then filled the glass again. “I couldn’t sleep, so I went out for a walk and stopped for a drink.”

  Matt didn’t say anything but followed me again as I took my water back to the living room, finally settling on the couch. I was drunk, but I was hoping I could hide exactly how drunk. But that was naive because while I didn’t remember my life with Matt, he knew me inside and out. Hiding things from him wouldn’t work.

  “Why are you lying to me?” His eyes narrowed and his tone was harsh. It shook me, how he was looking at me, like he was disgusted by what he saw. So far Matt had mostly been treating me with kid gloves—everyone had—but tonight was going to be different, I could tell. I had pushed the bounds of his patience and understanding too far.

  “I’m not lying!” I said. “I went out for a drink.”

  “Alone?” Matt asked.

  A moment of silence, then, “No.”

  “Who did you have a drink with, Lucy?” And in that moment I understood he knew I had been with Daniel. Because even rum-soaked, I had enough mental acuity to realize if I had been with Jenny, or Alex, or even with my parents, I would have already admitted it. The only reason I would be hedging was if the person I had a drink with was someone Matt wouldn’t be happy to hear about.

  “Daniel.”

  The effect of speaking his name was significant in our living room, where it hung like a heavy curtain blocking out all light and sound. We stared at one another, and I tried to keep my face as neutral as possible, but all I could think about was how I had kissed Daniel. Sickening guilt hit me and I thought I might throw up all those unfortunate Dark and Stormy drinks onto our living room rug.

  “I see,” Matt said. I braced myself for the onslaught of questions. The inevitable “What? How? Why?” I expected to follow. But he asked nothing. Only said, “I’m going back to bed,” and then promptly dropped my phone onto the couch beside me, where it landed with a soft plop, before walking into our bedroom and shutting the door.

  My heart hammered, and I finally took in a breath. Then I looked down at my phone, which had landed faceup, and on a hunch pressed the button to wake up the dark screen. There was a text message, from Daniel.

  Hope you got upstairs okay. It was nice to see you. And like I said, already forgotten.

  He’d closed the message with a winky-faced emoticon, and I felt another rush of nausea when I glanced at the time stamp. It had come in only moments after we’d said goodbye; he had probably sent it while he walked down the street to catch a cab, and without question Matt had my phone in his hand when the message lit up my screen. Which meant he saw it, probably as I sat on the landing after my stair tumble, trying to reconcile what I had done.

  I glanced at the closed bedroom door. Should I go in there and apologize? Tell Matt the whole story about how we’d run into each other at Jake’s party and had a (very innocent) coffee? How tonight sort of happened and nothing about it was premeditated? But I decided if Matt wanted to know why my ex was texting me, why I’d gone out with Daniel without telling him, he would have asked. He wouldn’t have shut the conversation down by walking away.

  Regardless, I should have gone in there and pulled back the covers and lain down beside him and unloaded everything in gentle whispers in the dark. With kindness and honesty, admitting my imperfections and letting him know I wanted to do better for both of us. To tell him the truth about how conflicted I felt and how I was trying my best. That I was sorry I kept hurting him, because he didn’t deserve it.

  But instead I retreated to the guest room and flopped down on top of the bedding, pulling the quilt over me like a burrito wrapper before sinking into a dreamless, alcohol-heavy slumber.

  30

  The next morning when I woke up, cold and uncomfortable because the quilt was on the floor, I lay still for a few moments so the events of the prior evening could load into my brain.

  I met Daniel for a late-night drink, which turned into a few too many. I need to stop drinking so much.

  I kissed Daniel and told him I remembered us being married.

  Matt knew I went out with Daniel, and that I’d lied to him.

  With a sigh I ran a hand over my face, tried to clear the sleep from my eyes. Everything hurt—my head from the booze, my chin from where I tripped and fell on the stairs, my body from an uncomfortable and restless sleep. But I could hear footsteps outside the guest room, the sounds of Matt moving around in the kitchen, and then my nose picked up the smell of brewed coffee and something frying.

  I swung my legs to the edge of the bed and stood carefully, hanging on to the wall for support as things spun a little before settling into place. The sickly sweet flavor of ginger beer coated my tongue and mouth and I desperately wanted to brush my teeth. Pushing the door open as quietly as I could, I padded to the washroom—saw Matt in the kitchen standing over the stove, his back to me—and brushed my teeth while I peed. Then I looked at myself in the mirror, frowning as I did. There was a purplish-looking lump on my chin, my mascara had spread beyond my eyelashes and I was pale. With a quick scrub of face wash and some tinted moisturizer and blush I looked better, but still not great. But I couldn’t do anything about my insides, which felt a thousand times worse than how I looked on the outside.

  Despite my lingering nausea, the smell of pancakes and bacon frying on the stove piqued my appetite. A full pot of coffee sat waiting to be poured, and Matt was in his sweats and a T-shirt, his hair still shower-damp, a dish towel thrown over his shoulder.

  I paused a moment longer, taking in the scene and wishing, again, that things could be different. Only months earlier I had been in love with this man. I had no relationship with Daniel and, from everything I had been told, had completely walked away from him when we broke up—never looking back. It must have been so nice, to be confident about and content with my life, and to have no doubts. The pain of what I’d lost hit me hard as I watched Matt, and I held back the sob trying to burst from my lungs.

  Clearing my throat so he would know I was there, I walked into the kitchen. “Morning,” I said, heading to the fridge to pour a cold glass of juice.

  Matt looked up from the pan, a spatula in his hand. “Morning.” He smiled, the same smile he had been giving me every morning since I got home—warm and reassuring—and for a brief moment I wondered if I’d imagined everything. Maybe my mind was playing tricks on me again. But then I touched my chin and the shot of pain from the bruise reminded me last night had been real.

  Matt took the coffeepot and held it over a mug. “Coffee?”

  “Uh, yes, please,” I said, my voice croaking. I took the mug and held it tightly in my hands. “Thanks.”

  “Hope you’re up for some breakfast.” Matt still hadn’t looked at me except to give me that brief smile, and I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to be doing. So I stood where I was, in the middle of the kitchen with my mug in my hands. “Did you sleep okay?”

  Did I sleep okay? Again, I considered maybe my memory of last night was a bizarre confabulation, but then Matt said, “Your phone is charging, in case you were looking for it.” He plated our pancakes and bacon, licked a bit of grease from his thumb. “Let’s eat while it’s hot.”

  At the mention of my phone my stomach flipped over, making it entirely possible I would vomit up all of last night’s rum into my plate of pancakes. But I sat beside him at our kitchen table, pulled up my chair and tucked into my breakfast. My stomach didn’t revolt after the first bite, or the second, which was a relief. “This is great.”

  He smiled, continued chewing his breakfast. Still said nothing about last night.

  I wondered if this would be how things would go for the next while. Matt and me being excessively formal, tediously polite, as we tried to coexist in this new state wh
ere I had lied and he had found out and nothing was how either of us hoped or expected it to be.

  Matt polished off his pancakes first, then worked on his bacon, dipping the strips into the pool of maple syrup on his plate. “I need to go into the office. But I’ll be back for dinner.”

  I glanced at the clock; it was already ten in the morning. “You aren’t going for a ride today?”

  He dipped another piece of bacon into the syrup. “Already did,” he said. “I went early.”

  Nodding, I swallowed the bite of pancake in my mouth and felt it stick in my throat. I needed to explain things now. I hated how the air around us felt—tense and strange, despite Matt’s seemingly fine mood. But that was exactly the problem. He wasn’t fine, couldn’t possibly be, and the fact he was working so hard at pretending broke my heart.

  “Listen, Matt,” I began. He looked at me, holding the other half of the bacon strip in his hand, waiting. I looked down at my plate, hated myself for not being able to hold his gaze. “So that night at Jake’s party? I...I ran into Daniel outside the bar as I was leaving.” I was nervous, unable to cover the tremor in my voice. I still couldn’t look at Matt, was afraid of seeing his expression. “We talked for a couple of minutes and then I went home.”

  Matt put the bacon down on his plate and sighed. “Yeah, I know.”

  I frowned. “You know? How?” I tried to remember if I’d told Jenny, or Alex, and wondered if they’d passed this information along to Matt. Maybe under the guise they were worried about my state of mind. But no, I had told only Dr. Kay. So how did Matt know?

  “I saw you.” He said it nonchalantly, like it was no big deal. Then he gathered his silverware and set them on his plate, then took it all over to the sink to rinse them.

  “You saw me? Where? How?”

  He dropped his plate into the sink, the silverware clanging so hard against it I thought the plate might have cracked. Then he whipped around and the look on his face slayed me. His eyes were wide, his cheeks puffed out, his hands clenched in fists even as they held on to the counter edge behind him. “I saw you, Lucy! I followed you outside because I wanted to make sure you were okay, and then...” He shook his head and then let it drop forward, his chin to his chest.