Clean Slate

by Harley Crowley

Chapter 25

  At home Brian thought to check for messages on the kitchen phone, in case Lou or someone from work had called. He didn't expect a call from Katherine on this phone, and maybe the sighing breath and hang-up was just a wrong number. He needed to check his cell phone again because no doubt she'd responded to his message by now. He didn't like the idea of her calling the house phone.

  Carrie had opened the cabinet in the living room to reveal a TV monitor, and held up a couple of envelopes with DVD disks when he came back in.

  "Would you like to watch a movie? I try to give myself a Sabbath from dinner time Saturday evening through Sunday night. No work until Monday, if I can help it."

  "What movies do we have?" he asked.

  She peered at the envelopes and then handed them to him. "You chose them. Do either of them sound familiar?"

  "Totally mysterious," he said.

  "Do you want to watch one?"

  "I'd like that. Do you have a preference? Or we can flip a coin. "

  He felt an urgency to at least listen to his messages, and maybe call Katherine if absolutely necessary. The pleasure of the evening was sliding out of his reach. Carrie was inviting him to watch a movie with her, and he was trying to figure out how to sneak off and call his girlfriend. He imagined himself hiding in the closet in his room, mumbling into the phone, muffled by the clothes. It was an ugly, shameful picture.

  "A couple of minutes?" he asked. "I need to, uh . . . " and he inclined his head towards the hall and the bathroom.

  "Sure. I'll go make some decaf."

  He went to the bedroom and took the cell phone with him to the bathroom and locked the door. He turned on the overhead fan.

  1:00 p.m.: "Brian, I listened to your message and I don't know what to think. I have to see you in person. Please don't cut me out of your life! You mean everything to me. We love each other! You said you don't remember me, but I can make you remember, I know I can. Call me as soon as you can."

  She didn't sound hysterical, just determined. It was the only message. His promise to call again seemed to have calmed her down. In the morning he would go for a run and take the phone with him, arrange to meet with her early on Monday, while Carrie was teaching. He went back to the living room.

  Carrie sat cross-legged in one of the two big chairs, a bowl of popcorn on the table between them. He sat down in the other chair. He was having trouble shaking off the feeling of self-contempt, and it made it hard for him to relax with Carrie. He felt so obviously fraudulent, it seemed unbelievable that she couldn't feel it too, see right into him, read his thoughts and divine his subterfuges. And hate him for it.

  He thought of something he'd meant to ask her, tearing himself away from his obsessive thoughts. "Did we watch the movie, 'Matador?' It was a comedy, about a guy who meets a hit man in Mexico."

  "That sounds familiar. Greg Kinnear, I think?" She thought for a second or two. "We did see that, a few months ago."

  "I remembered that movie. When I was in the motel. It was on TV. I knew I'd seen it, but I didn't remember anything else, just the movie. Did I like it especially? I wonder why I would have that one really clear memory and nothing else? Doesn't that seem strange?"

  "Maybe that's how it's going to come back, in little pieces. I think it means that it's going to happen. I think it's good news." She rearranged her legs on her chair, turned to look at him intently. "We could watch it again. It might be a trigger or something." She took a handful of popcorn and settled back. "We'll find out more on Monday when you talk to the doctors at the hospital." Her equanimity kept amazing him. Maybe she didn't care that much; had already written him off anyway, and was just a helpful stranger, doing what she'd do for anyone.

  But she'd touched his cheek that first night.

  "I'll be glad to get the hospital tests over with," he said. Of course it was much more important to extricate himself from the problem with Katherine, get that over with. A brain tumor seemed like a secondary issue. "Okay, I'm ready for a movie. You choose."

  "I thought the spy story." She handed him the disc and he inserted it in the player. Carrie pointed the remote, and the logos and credits started on the screen.

  Brian glanced up at the big windows, which faced the street. He felt a clutch of vulnerability. The blinds were open half way, and through the slits between them he could see the lights from the house across the street, and the shapes of a few cars parked along the curb. That meant he and Carrie were visible from the outside too.

  Katherine could come back. She could even be watching them now. It gave him the creeps and a shudder ran up his spine. He got up from his chair abruptly and went from window to window, rotating the plastic rods until all the blinds were closed tight.