Call me Lucy: An Enemies to Lovers romance

by Rania Battany

  ‘Sydney is really pretty—for a city,’ I said, studying my surrounds, casually eating one fry at a time.

  Tyler stuffed fries into his mouth quicker than he could chew.

  ‘You say that like you’ve never seen it before.’

  ‘I haven’t. Well … it feels like I haven’t. I guess I don’t know if I’ve seen it before or not.’

  He threw a fry into the air, and the seagulls that had been hounding us since we sat down flew up at once, squawking and fighting over it.

  ‘What’s the story with your memory loss anyway? What have the doctors said about it? Will it come back?’

  His question wasn’t invasive, considering what he knew about me. But it felt questioning. I kept my eyes peeled on the ferries floating by and took a long sip of my shake.

  ‘I don’t know. I left the hospital before the doctors had a chance to talk to me about it.’

  He laughed. ‘What? That’s so … that’s so …’

  I turned and narrowed my eyes at him. ‘That’s so, what?’

  He shook his head, grinning, and flicked crumbs at the seagulls. ‘That’s so funny, I guess.’

  Tyler sat with his knees spread, elbows resting on the tops of his legs, casually glancing at the tourists snapping photos of the bridge. Now and then, he’d stop and just look at me.

  ‘You into metal?’ I asked, gesturing to his Pantera t-shirt.

  His mouth kicked up into that same crooked grin he’d given me out the front of Railway Square. ‘Sure am. You?’

  ‘Not really, although I don’t mind a bit of Opeth. You don’t seem old enough to have been around when Pantera came out. It was the eighties, wasn’t it?’

  He bit his bottom lip, suppressing what looked like a super-impressed smile. ‘Nah, I’m only twenty-three. But that doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate the pioneers of metal. Besides, how do you know who Opeth and Pantera are? They’re hardly commercial bands.’

  A seagull at the back of the pack hopped on one leg. He was broken. I’d been watching him trying to get to the crumbs Tyler was throwing but he was never fast enough. Looking into my carton, I saw I had one fry left. Breaking it in half, I threw it as far over the pack of seagulls as I could, in the direction of the one with the broken leg.

  He got it.

  ‘I don’t know how my memory works. I seem to remember random things, like a male turkey is a gobbler and Pantera’s most popular song is probably “Walk”. But I can’t remember my name, how old I am, or if I lived in this city before the accident.’

  Tyler gave me an earnest look. ‘That’s normal. Memories are stored in different sections of the brain. You must’ve damaged only one of them.’

  He’d said it with so much certainty that I couldn’t help but laugh. Tyler laughed with me, and for a moment, it felt like the most natural thing in the world—to laugh alongside this stranger.

  ‘Okay, Doctor Tyler,’ I teased.

  He became serious. ‘So did they make sure you’re all right. You know, check you over, make sure nothing else is wrong?’

  I couldn’t bring myself to lie while looking into his eyes, so I lowered my gaze and nodded. He didn’t need to know about my faulty heart.

  My gaze fell to his right arm, and I studied his tattoo sleeve—no color, mainly black ink with red streaks. Hanging out the bottom of his t-shirt was the lower part of a skull. A dark rose twisted around his elbow joint, and an old-fashioned clock with roman numerals melted down toward his wrist. He must have seen me studying them because he held his arm out for me to get a better look.

  ‘Do you have a tattoo?’ he asked.

  ‘No.’

  Humor pinched his tone. ‘Really? Not even one, hidden somewhere? A butterfly on your foot or a fairy around your belly button?’

  ‘No,’ I whispered, fearing he would see through me. ‘Not even one.’

  Who the hell was Tyler to know about my vagina tattoo?

  ‘The black was an interesting choice,’ he said, gesturing with his head toward my hair.

  Clearly, my regrowth had caught his attention.

  ‘Why’d you say that?’

  ‘I think you would’ve looked good as a blond.’

  I had no response to that. I think I would’ve looked better as a blond too. But now I looked like Uma Thurman in Pulp Fiction, but without the bangs, and with a skunk tail of yellow regrowth.

  Uma Thurman in Pulp Fiction. Another random memory.

  Cheering drifted over the water in our direction, and a ferry approached from the other side of the bridge. Women in evening gowns and men in black suits stood on the ferry deck, saluting the air with champagne flutes. A bride stood at the center of the crowd, beaming with a smile that matched the brightness of the sun.

  Why wouldn’t she be beaming when all her friends and family were around her?

  I wiped the tears forming in my eyes and stood. ‘I better get going.’

  Tyler leaped up. ‘You’re going home already?’

  My heart cracked then.

  I wasn’t going home. I was returning to someone else’s house, to sleep in someone else’s bed, to stay with a guy who resented me because of it.

  Tyler stepped closer. His pale-blue eyes met mine, but I dropped my gaze to the ground. Reaching out, he traced his fingers across my forehead, toward my cheek, and tucked my hair behind my ear like he’d done that a million times before. Like it was second nature to him.

  Oh, God, touch. I missed being touched.

  He edged his fingers across the back of my neck. I looked up, and he smiled, his eyes trying to draw me in. My heart drummed, and sweat beaded down my back.

  But it wasn’t his touch I wanted.

  I stepped away, and my stomach sank at the pathetic whisper I gave him. ‘I really need to go.’

  He’d obviously heard the lack of conviction in my tone as much as I did, because his smile widened as he cupped the back of my neck. Every muscle in my body clenched, and I stepped out of his grip.

  Tyler dropped his arm away from me and tucked his hands deep into his pockets.

  ‘I’m not allowed to be late,’ I lied in the same pitiful whisper.

  ‘Of course, I don’t wanna get you in trouble.’ He stepped back. ‘It must be hard to be alone in a strange city.’

  His smile was so warm, it made me question why I’d stepped away from his touch to begin with.

  ‘It is lonely.’

  ‘I could be your friend,’ he offered. ‘We’ll hang out. I’ll show you around. And maybe I’ll even get you to like metal.’

  His eyes glimmered, and I found myself giving him a hesitant, but genuine smile. ‘I doubt you’d get me to like metal. I much prefer mellow music. But hanging out sounds good. I could use at least one friend in my life.’

  His face lit up, and he nodded. ‘Great. How about you give me your number?’

  ‘I don’t have a phone.’

  His mouth gaped, reminding me how dependent people our age are on their phones.

  Our age?

  His face scrunched in thought, then he threw his index finger into the air. ‘Wait here.’

  Running up the steps from the boardwalk, toward a café, he spoke to a waiter clearing a table. Moments later, he ran back to me, waving a piece of paper victoriously in the air.

  ‘Here you go,’ he said, catching his breath. ‘Here’s my number. And how about we meet at Circular Quay Station tomorrow? Say ten?’

  There was an air of confidence about him, a sense of self-assuredness that I found both incredibly attractive and somewhat frightening.

  ‘I can’t tomorrow.’

  I had no idea what I’d say to Billy.

  ‘Tuesday?’

  ‘Um …’

  ‘Okay, Wednesday. Come on, that’s a whole three days away. Don’t make me wait longer than that to see you again.’

  It made no sense that I see Tyler again. But I had no one else to hang out with except for Billy, and he hated me. I also had the appointment at the hosp
ital on Wednesday that Lillian had made for me, which gave me a valid reason to leave the house.

  ‘Okay. Wednesday it is,’ I said.

  ‘I’m really looking forward to seeing you again.’

  Thump.Thump.Thump.Thump.

  ‘Yeah, me too.’

  I couldn’t tell if that was the truth or not.

  I started to walk away, but something stopped me. I stared at Tyler, his hands tucked deep in his pockets, his messy hair falling over his forehead, his lips kicked up into a crooked smile, and I clutched tighter onto the sheet of paper that had his number on it.

  ‘I’ll let you know if I can’t make it,’ I said finally.

  I stood at the terminal near Railway Square, sucking in one desperate breath after another, staring at the numbers at the top of each bus. Hours must have passed, and corporate workers now packed onto the buses in a rush to go home. I had no idea how to get back to Billy’s. I thought I’d taken note of the bus number coming into the city, but obviously, I hadn’t.

  Pain pinched my chest like it had that morning, and I feared another attack was coming on. With the swarm of people around me, someone was bound to call the ambulance. And I did not want to end up back in the hospital.

  I sucked in lungful after lungful of air, but it wasn’t enough.

  This city was determined to kill me—one way or another.

  Tears welled in my eyes. I just wanted to get back to Billy’s, to let him know—to let Lillian know—that I hadn’t run away.

  A hand gripped my shoulder, and a concerned voice spoke from behind me. ‘Do you need help?’

  I turned to see an older man staring at me, his forehead puckered with worry.

  I forced my lungs to find the air I needed to speak and gasped between each word. ‘I. Don’t. Know. How. To. Get. Home.’

  Home. It was wrong to use that word. But I couldn’t spare any oxygen to explain that I was a homeless adult living with a babysitter.

  ‘Do you need me to call an ambulance?’ he asked, visibly freaked out.

  People huddled, and my skin grew hot and clammy. I shook my head, begging he’d stop asking so many questions.

  ‘Okay,’ he said hesitantly. ‘Do you know which suburb you live in?’

  I shook my head again. ‘It’s’—gasp—‘close to a’—gasp—‘school called Sacred Heart’—gasp—‘that’s opposite a noodle’—gasp—‘restaurant.’

  The man nodded. He walked off, popping in and out of various buses, talking to each driver.

  Someone whispered behind me. ‘She’s having an anxiety attack.’

  I wanted to set straight whoever had said that, to tell them that this wasn’t an anxiety attack.

  This was my heart giving up.

  The man came back and gestured to a bus that had just pulled in. ‘That’s the one you want to catch. I spoke to another driver. He knew which school you were talking about and said you needed to catch the number nineteen.’

  I thanked him with a lopsided smile.

  Climbing the steps into the bus took what energy I had left. I slumped into my seat, heaving, watching through the windows as the city disappeared behind us. The trip felt like an eternity, and I started to panic, worried I was on the wrong bus. But when I saw Gabby’s café finally whirl by, I inhaled the kind of breath that calmed my frantically beating heart.

  I walked as quickly as I could to Billy’s, hoping the fresh evening air would calm my burning skin. Arriving at the front door, I brushed down my hair, wiped the sweat from my brow, then sucked in a composing breath before swinging it open.

  Billy stood against the kitchen table, clutching his phone. His head shot up when I walked through the door, and my shoulders immediately curled inwards. He glared at me, and I stared back. It never mattered how piercing his stare was, or how much I wanted to shrink under its intensity, I refused to look away first.

  ‘What the fuck, Lucy!’

  Pushing off the kitchen table, Billy hopped toward me, no crutch, his leg brace on, his chest heaving as much as mine.

  ‘You know what? I don’t give a shit where you go or what you do, but it would’ve been courteous of you to have left a note letting me know you went out. After this morning—’

  He came to a dead stop. He didn’t need to say it. We both knew what he meant.

  My lips tightened, and I replied in an asshole tone that matched his. ‘I went out, and I got lost. Besides, I didn’t realize you cared that much about me.’

  ‘I don’t care. But Lillian does, and now I’m forced to give a shit about making sure nothing happens to you.’

  I wanted to disappear then, to sink away into nothing. I couldn’t stop my lip from quivering, and I despised myself for it.

  Billy’s face blurred as my eyes glazed. But it was my voice that betrayed me the most, allowing my words to float out in hardly a whisper, proving I was as pathetic as I felt.

  ‘Do you just say what’s on your mind without thinking? Or is this your inner asshole coming out again? Because I don’t need you to make me feel smaller than I already do.’

  Without blinking, he locked his piercing gaze with mine until it felt like I might stop breathing again. His lip twitched, and I thought he was going to back down. But he didn’t.

  Taking three steps forward, Billy closed the gap between us, so we were standing chest to chest, his eyes penetrating mine. He cupped my shoulders with his hands, and I sucked in a necessary breath. Gently, he peeled my shoulders back, straightening my posture, and making me stand taller. The strength in his arms made my legs weak, made me feel as if he’d keep me up if I ever lost the ability to keep going. Like he’d carry me if I tried to disappear.

  ‘Don’t sink into yourself like that, Lucy. Stand tall.’

  Cupping his fingers under my chin, he tilted my head up. His skin was rough—like a man who’s worked with his hands every day of his adult life.

  ‘Now, say it like you mean it, without crumbling into yourself.’

  His touch felt like fire, and my cheeks flushed from the intensity of the heat. I opened my mouth to speak, unsure if anything would come out.

  ‘You want me to look you in the face and tell you assertively that you’re an asshole?’

  His lip kicked up at the side. ‘Yes.’

  I wasn’t sure if I’d find enough air to get the words out, not with his fingers still cupping my chin, his chest grazing mine, and his breath warming my face. But I did my best.

  ‘Billy, you’re an asshole.’

  He nodded, and I could see he wanted to smile. ‘You’re right. I am an asshole.’

  His hand dropped away from me, and I instantly wanted to follow it.

  We stood in silence, staring at each other, my shoulders squared, and my back straight.

  I felt a whole foot taller.

  ‘I ordered you a pizza,’ he said.

  ‘What?’

  ‘I didn’t know what to get you, so I got one meat lovers and one vegetarian. They should be here in five minutes.’

  ‘How did you know I’d be back in time? If at all?’

  His expression darkened. ‘I didn’t. I hoped you would.’

  Silent again, his eyes locked with mine, my heart now drumming to a whole different beat.

  ‘I would’ve told you I was running late if I could,’ I said truthfully. ‘I didn’t know the name of this suburb, and there were so many buses.’

  Billy studied me briefly. Without a word, he reached for his crutch resting against the kitchen table, then disappeared into his room. I stood motionless, wondering if I’d said something wrong until he emerged a few minutes later.

  ‘Firstly, don’t catch a bus from the city. Catch the train. Secondly, here, take this.’ He extended his arm toward me and dropped an iPhone and charger into my palm.

  I stared at the phone, then threw him a questioning look. ‘What’s this?’

  ‘It’s my old iPhone. It still works. You keep it.’

  The front door buzzer rang before I could r
eply.

  He rested his crutch against the wall and answered the door to the pizza delivery man.

  ‘Let’s eat,’ he said, hobbling toward me holding three boxes.

  I followed him to the couch. Dropping down beside him, I reclined against the cushion and watched the movie he chucked on.

  I hadn’t gotten any closer to discovering my identity today. But had I truly expected one trip to the city to achieve that? The truth was—if I were at all honest with myself—I had no idea how to get my memory back.

  A sharp pain shot across my chest like a knife tearing through my heart. I turned my back to Billy and clutched where the pain was most intense.

  I had six weeks until he returned to work. Six weeks until I had to get out of here.

  Unless this pain kept up … Maybe I wouldn’t need to discover who I was after all.

  8

  Him

  Something woke me. Staring at the ceiling, I realized Lucy was in the kitchen. The place was so small I could hear the kettle boiling.

  She was up before me for a change.

  She’d scared the crap out of me last night, coming home as late as she did. I’d had my phone in hand, ready to call Lillian, to tell her that Lucy had probably run away or was lying dead somewhere. Dread had made me nauseous, and I’d been delaying the call. It would’ve been the last straw, the final blow that would’ve shattered Lillian.

  And then Lucy had walked through the door—just in time.

  I sat on the edge of my bed and rubbed my eyes. Lucy coming home late wasn’t the only thing that had scared the crap out of me. Yesterday morning had been something else entirely.

  Why had she been breathing like that? It was hard to imagine she could get any paler, but she’d been ghostly white. Something wasn’t right with her. She must know it, but I doubt she’d say anything. I needed to talk to Lillian. Lillian needed to know.

  I stood and stepped toward my crutch, partially landing on my sneakers. My left ankle rolled, and a piercing pain shot through my foot and up my leg.

  ‘Fuckkkkkkkk!’

  I screamed through my clenched jaw. Clutching on to my foot, I collapsed onto the ground, the stabbing pain spreading like pins and needles. I sucked in a breath between gritted teeth and rocked back and forth, the pain so severe my eyes watered.