Call me Lucy: An Enemies to Lovers romance

by Rania Battany

  ‘Why can’t I remember anything about my life?’

  She glanced at the ground, took a moment, then looked up at me. ‘You’re also experiencing a different type of memory loss. But I’m not qualified to discuss this condition with you. The doctors need to do that.’

  Fear tightened my lungs until I was clutching at my chest. ‘I don’t like that doctor. I like you. I don’t know why, but I know that I like you. Can you please tell me something about it? Anything?’

  Hesitation burdened her bright eyes. ‘The doctors have considered you have what’s called focal retrograde amnesia, but that diagnosis requires investigation from a team of specialized doctors. I’m not qualified to discuss this with you. And it may not even be that …’

  Her voice trailed, but she must have caught the desperation burning from my eyes because she sighed. ‘I can’t imagine how scary this must be for you. But, so you know, some of the doctors believe you’ll get your memory back once you’re around familiar people and places. There’s a possibility you’ll leave this hospital and see something that will jolt your memory back to life.’

  That was somewhat reassuring.

  ‘Who are you then, if you’re not a doctor? Did I know you before the accident?’

  She shifted uncomfortably in her armchair. I studied her, trying to figure out what had made her so uneasy.

  She rubbed her brow, then clasped her fingers across her lap. ‘I’m a social worker. I work with young people considered to be at risk. The hospital will be releasing you sometime in the next few weeks, and I’m here to help with rehoming you.’

  ‘Rehoming me? What do you mean? Can’t I just go home—to where I live?’

  Her gaze fell to the scars on the inside of my wrist, and her expression shifted to something between concern and fear. Hurriedly, I tucked my arm under the blanket. From the sorry look she gave me, uneasiness crept over my skin, spreading like a rash.

  ‘You’ve been here for three weeks and … no one has come to visit you. You came in without any identification. No handbag, purse, bank cards, or license. And no one has filed a report for a missing person that fits your description either.’

  A lump swelled at the back of my throat, making my voice quiver. ‘You think I’m homeless?’

  I didn’t know how, but I knew that wasn’t right. I had a home.

  I did.

  ‘There are many possibilities. You could be here on holiday. Your family could be overseas …’ Her face contorted into pained creases. ‘It’s just that I’ve been in regular contact with the police and they’ve found security footage from Central Station showing you getting off at platform three, and you weren’t carrying a bag. They don’t know where you boarded from because the security camera on the train was damaged with graffiti. Since you weren’t carrying anything on you, it’s safer for me to assume you’re homeless or were escaping some kind of negative situation.’

  My mouth dried, and my heart fluttered like a butterfly caught in a tornado. I tried to swallow—to say something—but the realization made it impossible to speak.

  ‘We don’t know how old you are, either,’ she continued. ‘There’s a possibility you’re under eighteen. You could be a child.’

  My voice came back with force. ‘I am not a child! Trust me. That much, I know.’

  ‘You might not be. The doctors have assumed you’re aged between eighteen and twenty-four, but I must play it safe. If there’s any chance you’re under eighteen, then that makes you extra vulnerable. I’m looking into shelters that are appropriate for younger women like yourself. Somewhere you’ll be safe.’

  At the mention of shelters, my stomach clenched, and something primal tore through me. There was no way in hell I was going to a shelter.

  Someone out there knew me; I just needed to find them.

  I leaped from the bed and, scrambling around, found a pair of sneakers beside a set of drawers.

  Lillian jumped up. ‘Where are you going?’

  ‘I’ll tell you where I’m not going—a shelter.’ I turned toward the bed, ready to collect my things, when I remembered I didn’t own anything.

  Lillian reached for the duffle bag resting against her armchair and threw me a panicked look. ‘You can’t leave now. The doctors are still assessing the situation with your heart and memory. Please, if you sit down, we can work something out.’

  I dropped my head into my palms and squeezed my eyes shut as tightly as I could.

  My heart. My memory.

  I was broken.

  I looked up to see Lillian’s face fraught with concern, and a twang of guilt stabbed into my side. But I wasn’t going to a shelter. It was something I felt so deep inside me; I couldn’t explain it.

  ‘I’m sorry, Lillian. But I know I’m not homeless.’ Inhaling a shaky breath, I hurried through the hospital room door.

  A nurse sitting at the desk outside my room smiled at me, and I forced a smile back. I’d apparently walked these corridors before, so nothing would seem amiss to her. Behind me, Lillian called out. But my legs scurried on their own, intuitively knowing where to go, leading me through the maze of doors and hallways until I found myself standing outside the main entrance.

  My breath stopped. I was in a city—a large, congested city. This wasn’t right; it didn’t feel right. I wasn’t sure what I’d expected, but somewhere in my core, I knew it wasn’t this.

  I threw my hand to my forehead and closed my eyes. Sweat trickled down my back. My heart wouldn’t let up, beating to a crazy rhythm, and my shoulders crumpled under the unbearable weight of my confusion.

  Lillian’s desperate voice called from behind me. I turned and watched as she hurried out the entrance doors, the duffle bag clutched to her chest.

  ‘Please come back inside. Where are you even going?’

  Her question made my insides sink. I had no idea where I was going, but I couldn’t let her know that. Instead, I straightened my posture and cleared my throat, faking composure.

  ‘You said it yourself. My memory might come back if I’m around familiar people and places. If I walk around the … city … maybe everything will come back to me.’ The words tumbled from my lips. Being in this city was wrong. I knew that with certainty, and I knew she heard the lie falling from my mouth as well.

  ‘I’m not qualified to advise on how your memory might come back. And the doctors still need to investigate what’s wrong with your heart. They were waiting for you to become more alert before doing that.’

  I refused to give in.

  Surely someone somewhere was looking for me.

  ‘I’m sorry. I can’t go back in there, not if it means going to a shelter.’

  Her tone dropped to a heart-wrenching whisper. ‘Please. Please don’t do this. You have nowhere to go. You’ll end up spending the night on the street.’

  I studied the pleading look in her eyes and the deep lines around her forehead. At that moment, I wasn’t sure if anyone else had ever cared about me as much she did.

  I lowered my voice to match hers. ‘Maybe the street is where I belong.’

  I turned away and headed toward a large, multi-lane intersection. Dread thickened in my veins with each step I took away from Lillian. I had no money. No food. No clothes. Nothing but the hope of seeing something that would spark a shred of recognition of the person I was and where I came from—of where I belonged.

  ‘Wait!’ Lillian called out behind me, and I stopped.

  Turning back, I watched her run to me.

  ‘Do you know where you are? Right now—this city—what it’s called?’

  Deflated, I shook my head. ‘No.’

  Without waiting for her reply, I walked away.

  ‘You’re in Sydney,’ Lillian announced behind me. ‘And I have somewhere you can go tonight. It’s not a shelter.’

  I came to a dead stop. ‘Where?’

  Uncertainty clouded her eyes, and she chewed her lip. I could almost see the debate raging within her, and I couldn’t handle
my guilt. This whole thing was stupid.

  I was not her concern. Whoever I was, I could take care of myself.

  ‘Listen, don’t stress about it—’

  She shook her head adamantly. ‘I won’t let you go. And I promise you’ll like this place. It’s private and quiet … it’s my place.’

  I didn’t blink. Staring down at my pale hands, I shook my head, and tears blurred my vision. I couldn’t bring myself to look at her. The helplessness of my situation had left me desperate, and I knew I had no choice but to accept her offer. I was nobody, relying only on the generosity of this woman I didn’t know—who didn’t know me—a woman who owed me nothing.

  I heard the sincerity in her voice. ‘Come on,’ she said. ‘I’m parked underground.’

  The city faded into the distance as we drove out of the congestion, ending up in a suburb half an hour from the hospital. I studied everything with the eagerness of a child, and the fear and uncertainty of a refugee. My hands sat in my lap, on top of the purple sweatpants I couldn’t wait to change.

  Neither of us spoke during the drive. Lillian had visibly relaxed once I’d gotten into the car, so I assumed she didn’t feel awkward about our silence. Instead, easy listening music droned in the background. I cringed at every cheesy song, but I wasn’t about to ask her to change the station.

  ‘We’re not far now,’ she said at one point.

  The scenery had changed from cityscape to a different kind of busy. Small eateries lined the street, creating a mishmash of cultural cuisines—Middle Eastern, Mediterranean, Asian—all catering to the eclectic blend of passersby. We stopped at a red light, and I peered out my window. Women with headscarves pottered around the fruit markets while hipsters stroked their beards as they waited in line at a juice bar.

  I sank into my seat. Nothing had ever felt more foreign in my life.

  I think.

  A group of tattooed teens boasting an impressive assortment of facial piercings walked into an alternative clothing store. I sighed, envying their black jeans.

  We turned off the main road and into a side street, driving a little further before Lillian pulled into the driveway of a modern—but tiny—detached apartment.

  Unclipping her seatbelt, she turned to face me. ‘We’re here.’

  I hesitated behind her, then took the four steps up to the front door. But I was surprised when she stopped to knock.

  ‘Why are you knocking if this is your place?’

  Her eyes reflected the apprehension I felt.

  ‘This is my place. I own it, but I don’t live here. My brother Billy does. And I haven’t told him you’re coming to stay.’

  I sank into myself as the front door swung open and I saw Billy on the other side of it.

  Fuck.

  3

  Him

  I swung open the front door, surprised to see my sister during work hours. My attention instantly shifted to the girl standing behind her. She was skinny, really skinny, with jet-black hair, pale skin and wide blue eyes. I threw Lillian a suspicious look, and her lips curled into one of her signature hear me, out smiles.

  Lillian turned toward the girl. ‘This is my brother, Billy,’ she said, gesturing her palm at me.

  The announcement floated in the air, bringing with it an intense silence. The girl stared at me, offering no acknowledgment, no smile, no nod of her head. The deep blue of her piercing eyes sent a shiver through my bones.

  ‘You’re not going to introduce her?’ I asked Lillian through a clenched jaw.

  ‘We need to talk first.’

  I tightened my grip around the handle of my crutch. The girl lowered her gaze to the ground. Her shoulders curled inward, and she edged further behind Lillian as if she were trying to make herself smaller. Like she was hoping to disappear.

  I opened the door wider and shuffled out the way. Lillian charged into the living room, clearly not realizing the girl still stood outside, crumpled in on herself, looking at the ground.

  ‘Are you coming inside or what?’ I asked her.

  She looked up at me, her eyes striking against her black hair and white skin. I held her stare, unwilling to break the connection, and ignored the chill sweeping over my back, one vertebra at a time. She walked inside, one hesitant step after another, and I hopped into the living room behind her. Lillian eyed us both, the silence deafeningly awkward.

  The girl stood at the edge of the room, her arms dangling loosely in front of her, her expression unnervingly blank.

  Lillian gestured with her head to the master bedroom. ‘Let’s talk in private, Billy.’

  I hated when she said that.

  I secured my crutch under my left arm and shuffled behind her into the bedroom.

  ‘Who is she?’ I snapped when we were alone, and the bedroom door was shut.

  ‘Billy, please, just hear me out.’

  From her hushed whisper, I knew she didn’t want Blue-Eyed-Girl to hear us, but I was too pissed to care.

  ‘Come on, Lil, I hate when you do this to me. Who is she?’

  Lillian inhaled a deep breath, then maintained her hushed tone. ‘That girl I was telling you about, the one that got hit by the car three weeks ago …’

  ‘The one with amnesia?’

  ‘Yes. She needs to stay here.’

  Heat flushed my neck, and my stomach clenched. I squeezed the handle of my crutch until my knuckles turned white.

  ‘Are you fucking kidding me?’

  Her eyes grew wide with desperation. ‘She has nowhere to go.’

  ‘Weren’t you trying to find her somewhere to stay?’

  She nodded, then exhaled a deflated sigh. ‘She panicked when I told her and left the hospital, flat out refusing to go to a shelter.’

  Anger seeped through me, making me unsteady. I sat on the bed and extended my left leg in front of me.

  ‘What the hell does that have to do with me? If she doesn’t wanna go to a shelter, then let her go. You don’t bring a random person here to live with me! What if she’s a drug addict? Or a damn psycho who’s gonna steal everything I own before she kills me in my sleep?’

  Lillian’s unimpressed expression said it all. ‘She had no drugs in her system when she was admitted, nor has she shown any sign of withdrawal. And, if anything, she’s probably worried that you’ll kill her in her sleep. Lucky for you both, neither of you are psychotic.’

  My leg hurt, and I needed to relieve it. I clasped my fingers under my left knee and lifted, so my knee bent slightly. I winced. I wanted to tear the damn brace off and scratch the itch I’d had since our conversation began, but I was too annoyed to stop.

  ‘You can’t seriously expect me to live with someone I don’t know.’

  ‘Billy, listen to me. She’s confused. She’s suffered a serious injury. No one has claimed her, so we can only assume she has no support. I couldn’t let her go out into the street.’

  I saw that flicker of guilt in her eyes, the one I’d seen so many times over the last year, and I forced my tone to soften.

  ‘I love you, Lil, but you’ve gone too far this time. Bringing her here—you’ve overstepped a professional line. You can’t save everyone, and you need to stop caring so much. This isn’t going to change what happened with Jade—’

  Her cheeks flushed a vivid shade of red, and her jaw tightened. ‘Don’t you dare mention her. This has nothing to do with that. This is about making sure that poor girl in the living room gets the help she needs!’

  Despite her words, I knew the truth. This had everything to do with Jade. I didn’t say that, though. Lillian didn’t need to be reminded of her guilt.

  I sighed, defeated. ‘So, what? Some random bird comes to live here—with me? How long are you expecting her to stay? I’m going back to work in six weeks.’

  ‘I’m doing everything I can. I’m in constant contact with the police. I’ll sort something out for her, and I’ll do it quickly. I’ll have it all sorted before you return to work, I promise.’

  �
�What am I supposed to do with someone that has amnesia anyway?’

  Lillian rubbed her head. She looked so drained, so tired. She really needed to stop caring so much.

  ‘Some of the doctors seem to think her memory will come back once she’s exposed to reminders from her past. If she stays here, you can take her out for me—the beach, library, park, restaurants, cafés, museums. You get my drift. Hopefully, something she sees will kick-start her brain—’

  I threw my palm in the air to stop her. ‘So not only are you asking for her to live here, you want me to babysit her as well? What the fuck, Lil! Why me?’

  ‘It makes sense that she stays here. You’re the only one I trust, and you have this spare room.’

  My stomach tightened. Lillian would never have said it; she was way too nice to do that. But I knew what she was really thinking.

  This is my place, after all.

  I clenched my jaw shut and bit my tongue, reminded of all the reasons I hated relying on people.

  Hesitation breezed across Lillian’s face, and her right shoulder flicked up into a weak shrug. ‘Also, I figured that with your leg …’

  This time, I couldn’t stop myself. ‘Oh yeah, of course. Hit up the cripple stuck at home. Lump him with the homeless-amnesia bird.’

  She shook her head. ‘It’s not like that. And stop calling her a bird.’

  Tension slipped between us, and Lillian rubbed her forehead with long, hard strokes. I stared at the brace on my leg—my pathetic, useless leg—and cursed everything that had put me in this position.

  After too many moments of silence, I hobbled off the bed. Lillian hurried over and wrapped one hand tightly around my arm, the other around my back, trying to help me up.

  I couldn’t stand when she did that.

  I yanked my arm from her grip and balanced on my crutch. ‘I can get myself up.’

  Her face paled, and she exhaled a heavy sigh. ‘She’s just a kid, Billy. She might be under eighteen.’

  ‘She’s not under eighteen. Have you seen her?’

  ‘She might be.’