Remember Tomorrow

by Gabrielle Goldsby

  • 106 •

  REMEMBER TOMORROW

  opened the truck door. Arie looked up into the cabin and back at Cees. “You like ’em big, don’t you?”

  Cees’s lips parted slightly, but she didn’t answer. Thinking perhaps Cees had missed what she said, Arie repeated herself.

  Finally, Arie pointed up into the truck, and Cees gazed into the cavernous cab of the truck. Arie frowned. Cees was starting to concern her. Maybe this had been a mistake. “The truck? It’s kind of big for you, isn’t it?”

  Cees looked relieved and then blushed. She seemed to be having a hard time meeting Arie’s eyes. “It was leased for me.

  I’m told it’s good publicity to have people see me tooling around town in it. I didn’t have much choice in the matter. Is it too high?

  I forgot to ask how you were feeling.” Cees had a strained look on her face, and Arie rushed to assure her that she was Þ ne despite the fact that she had been struggling to catch her breath during the walk.

  Cees put the bags she’d carried for Arie into the truck and took the one Arie had carried. Then, with a soft inhalation, Arie launched herself up and into the passenger’s seat. Cees stood holding the door. “Put your seat belt on,” she said softly and waited until Arie did so. Arie caught her eye, trying to determine if she was having second thoughts. What she saw there confused her more than anything. She recognized her own mixture of surprise and excitement. But Arie read fear in Cees’s eyes and that confused her. What could Cees Bannigan possibly have to fear from her?

  v

  Cees pointed out the bridges crisscrossing the city and told the story behind each of them. Arie murmured appreciation in the appropriate places, but her mind and stomach were roiling. She didn’t remember this city; she couldn’t Þ nd her own home if she had to, and she didn’t know the woman next to her either. Arie

  • 107 •

  GABRIELLE GOLDSBY

  stole a glance at Cees’s proÞ le. They had been lovers; this she didn’t doubt. But Cees either didn’t know or was being purposely evasive in giving the reason they had broken things off, and that made Arie feel uncomfortable. Cees said they had argued, but she knew instinctively that it had been much more than just an argument. Arie had pushed the thought away as too distressing…

  no, not distressing, just another obviously important detail that she had forgotten.

  “Headache?” The question was asked so softly that Arie almost missed it. If the faint throb threatened to become the stabbing pain of a migraine, she would ’fess up. For now, there seemed no point in worrying Cees unduly.

  “I’m Þ ne.” Arie sneaked a peek at Cees’s proÞ le, again noticing the way her hair curled beneath the arms of her glasses and the way her mouth was full and her skin hinted with the lightest tint of darkness. Arie felt a tickle at her lips. She put her Þ ngers to them and wondered if it were a memory or an overactive imagination.

  Cees glanced at her and frowned. “If you want, we can go to your apartment tomorrow and just head to my house now if you’re tired.” Arie looked straight ahead. She was tired. It had been an emotionally exhausting day.

  “I’d like to see where I lived,” she said, and within a few moments they were pulling into the circular drive of the waterfront apartment complex. “I live here?” Arie ducked her head to look at the high-rise. “For how long?”

  “You’d just moved to Portland when we met, so less than four years. You have your keys?” Arie turned to get one of the bags she had been sent home with. Pain shot up her spine and swept around to her rib cage. Air hissed from between her teeth like a deß ating balloon as pain racked her body.

  “What is it?” Concern colored Cees’s voice.

  “Turned wrong, bruised ribs from my seat belt. The pain’s already fading. Just give me a minute.” Arie prayed the pain

  • 108 •

  REMEMBER TOMORROW

  would go away even as she enjoyed the feel of Cees’s comforting hand at the small of her back. In a few moments her breathing had returned to normal.

  “Okay?” Cees asked.

  “I forget I’m still healing until I do something like that.”

  “Yeah, well, stop forgetting. You scared me.” Cees reached behind the passenger seat, pulled the bag up, and set it between them so that Arie could root around in its contents for her key ring. She pulled it out and held it up. At least nine keys hung from the ring. “I don’t know which one opens the door.”

  Cees took the ring from her and held up a small gray fob.

  “This one lets you in the front door of the complex.” She held up a key. “This one is to your apartment.”

  Arie looked from the key to Cees. Finally, she couldn’t keep herself from asking a question that would lead her closer to the one she wanted to ask but didn’t know how. “Did you live here, too?” Arie tried to keep the question light, as if forgetting the person you used to live with not quite two years ago was common enough.

  “No, I was just here an awful lot.” Arie watched the smile disappear. “It’s been a long time since I’ve been here.” Arie Þ led the information, acutely aware that Cees had turned away from her before she could read anything in her expression.

  She didn’t say anything as Cees opened the door for her, and she stepped out of the truck, her emotions ß uxing from anxiety to outright fear in the space of seconds. It felt as if Cees was holding back information that wasn’t hers to keep. Arie was quiet as Cees waved the security fob in front of the panel to release the door, and she remained pensive as they rode the gold-mirrored elevator up to an apartment she didn’t remember. Cees walked into the apartment and waited for her to follow. Arie noticed the scent Þ rst.

  The hospital smelled like an old building and cleaning supplies.

  Muted, but there. This place smelled of cleaning supplies, but lemon scented.

  • 109 •

  GABRIELLE GOLDSBY

  “I’m a neat freak?” she asked through clenched jaws.

  Cees looked from the pristine living room to Arie. “No more so than I am. What’s wrong? You look angry.”

  Arie shook her head, took two swift steps into the room, and realized that Cees was right, she was angry. “So this is my apartment? Kind of nice for a gardener, huh?”

  “Landscape architect,” Cees corrected gently, although the frown told Arie that she could no longer act as if she wasn’t angry.

  “Arie, please tell me what’s wrong. Is your head hurting? Maybe we should have gotten your prescriptions Þ lled Þ rst.”

  “I’m Þ ne. Let’s just get my stuff and go.”

  “Is it that you would rather stay?”

  “I can’t stay by myself, remember?” Arie’s voice was cold, biting. Arie realized that she was lashing out at the one person who was helping her without motive. From the look on Cees’s face, the lash had struck home.

  “Tell me why you’re so angry.”

  Arie closed her eyes. When she opened them again, Cees was standing right there, and she felt a sob stick in her throat. “I don’t know why.”

  She let Cees pull her into a hug. Though she didn’t remember having this kind of contact with Cees in the past, it felt right. And she hurt because she didn’t remember the countless other times she was sure this woman had held her. A muscle in Cees’s back rippled beneath her hand. Cees held her Þ rmly but gently as Arie released her frustration at not remembering. She didn’t know how long they stayed that way, but by the time she pulled away, the feel of Cees had been imprinted on her senses. She couldn’t imagine how she could have ever forgotten that—how could something so important be forgotten in an instant? She lifted her head and looked into Cees’s eyes. Tears had made crescents on her cheeks beneath the glasses and pooled there before seeping down along her jaw. Arie cupped her cheek. Cees’s full lips parted and Arie’s eyes sought, focused, and were drawn to them. She realized she was going to kiss her just before Cees stepped back.

  • 110 •

&nb
sp; REMEMBER TOMORROW

  “We should—” She didn’t Þ nish her statement. She just walked out of the living room and into another room, the bedroom Arie realized, as she followed her slowly. Cees stood in the middle of the room with her head down. Arie took in the queen-sized bed and sparse furnishings and wondered what Cees saw that she didn’t. No, not what she saw, what she remembered.

  “Cees?” She turned around, and Arie realized that Cees had begun to cry even more and that this was not in response to her own tears.

  “Can we just get some clothes and get out of here?”

  Arie hesitated and began opening drawers. She pulled out shirts, underwear, and socks as if shopping for someone other than herself. Something was hurting Cees. Being here was hurting Cees, and Arie couldn’t remember why.

  v

  Cees’s neighborhood was dark and quiet when they pulled into the driveway. It was too dark to see the exact color of the house, but Arie could make out light siding and a shingled roof that cut a dark triangle against the gray sky. One of the two windows that bracketed the door glowed, giving the home a one-eyed pirate look. Arie’s palms itched as she looked at the nondescript and slightly unkempt front yard. She trembled when the car door was opened and Cees stepped back to let her get out.

  “Cold?”

  “A little,” Arie said, though it wasn’t that cold.

  “Let’s get inside, then. I bought this house last year, so I’ll have to show you where everything is.”

  “It wouldn’t have mattered if I had been here before now, would it?”

  Arie was shocked by how bitter she sounded. She meant to apologize instantly, but the hurt look on Cees’s face froze the words on her tongue. “I don’t know why I just snapped like that.”

  • 111 •

  GABRIELLE GOLDSBY

  Arie crossed her arms in front of her chest. A familiar throb began at the base of her skull.

  “Don’t apologize. The reason Dr. Parrantt asked me to come see him last night was to tell me that mood swings, amongst other things, can be par for the course with a case like yours. I’ll grab the bags. Let’s get inside. It’s freezing out here.”

  She’s trying to sound carefree, which means she’s anything but. Arie sighed and eased out of the truck to follow Cees up the walkway to her front door. A light came on as they stepped on the porch just as it had when they had driven into the driveway.

  Arie squinted. She had hoped that the headache would just stay at a low roar, but the light and the chill seemed to be exacerbating the situation. Cees mumbled something under her breath as she fumbled with her front door keys.

  There was a time when I would have held her close to me to keep her warm while she opened the door. Whatever made me push her out of my life had to be very bad. Arie started at the unbidden thought. She took in Cees’s frame and wondered what she looked like without clothes. Heat settled on her face and warmed her body. It wasn’t an uncomfortable feeling, just without basis, without anything to back it up, and it scared her.

  Would Cees expect things from her? The thought sent a shiver through her body. Of course she wouldn’t. They weren’t lovers anymore.

  “Jeez, I could have picked the damn lock faster than that.”

  Cees opened the door and switched on another light in the entryway.

  Arie stepped in, temporarily forgetting her nervousness at her Þ rst glance at the inside of Cees’s house. She had expected a larger home, but she was pleased that Cees seemed to have found one that Þ t her personality. The small entry led immediately to the living room and dining room. One door was closed, but two others were open, and Arie could clearly see a bedroom with a queen-sized bed. Arie set down her bag and walked into the living room. She trailed her hand over the black leather couch and noted

  • 112 •

  REMEMBER TOMORROW

  the faint scent of cinnamon. She had noticed the fragrance on Cees when she had visited, and now she spotted the culprit—

  scented candles in glass apothecary jars lined the coffee table.

  “It’s small, but it’s just me.” Cees sounded almost apologetic as she explained. “Two bedrooms and two baths. Your bathroom’s out here.” Arie ß ushed as Cees pushed the door open. She could see the large claw tub stuffed into the small room. A pedestal sink made the space seem less cramped. Just as she had imagined, candles were spaced out on a shelf above the tub. Arie had a vision of Cees sitting in the tub with bubbles failing to hide her important parts.

  “You look ß ushed. Are you getting tired? Here, let’s get you some towels and I’ll show you where you’ll be sleeping.” Cees opened a door and began handing Arie large sand-colored bath sheets. Arie took them, grateful that Cees was either unaware or ignoring the fact that she hadn’t spoken since they’d walked into the house. Arie was feeling overwhelmed by this new place and by the fact that she and Cees were alone together. No nurses to interrupt, no voices just outside the door. She felt hyperaware of everything Cees did. Cees must have Þ nally noticed that Arie was too quiet. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

  “Do you… Is that where you’re going to sleep?” Arie wasn’t aware of what she was going to say before she said it.

  Cees turned to look at the door Arie was looking toward and back at Arie. “Yes, I was in the process of redecorating that room, so it’s not exactly ready for guests. Why do you ask?”

  A bell sounded from the back of the house, startling them both. “I’m not expecting anyone,” Cees said as she walked to the door. Arie watched her peek through the peephole. Almost instantly, her head jerked back as if she had been slapped.

  “Shit.” The word was a drawn-out whisper, a combination of “be quiet” and “what the hell am I going to do.” Before Arie could ask her what was wrong, someone began pounding at the door.

  “Cees, I know you’re in there. The monster is out front, and

  • 113 •

  GABRIELLE GOLDSBY

  all the lights are on in there. I can’t Þ nd my key. It’s cold out here.”

  The voice sounded annoyed, but not as annoyed as Arie would be if she had been standing out there in the cold while someone peeked at her through a peephole. Cees stepped away from the door and looked back at Arie, a harried look of annoyance on her face.

  “Is someone in there with you? Cees Bannigan, you got somebody in there?” The doorbell rang again, but this time it was followed by the distinct sound of a purse being unzipped.

  “Shit, shit, shit. Why did I give her a key?” Cees whispered.

  “I don’t know,” Arie whispered back. “You want me to go into the bedroom?”

  Cees looked surprised, but then she looked as if she were considering the offer. “No, of course not. I’m not scared of her.”

  But Arie sensed there was more to it than Cees had time to say. She might not be scared, but she was deÞ nitely not looking forward to talking with this individual. A shunned lover, perhaps?

  “Should you let her in if she already has a key?” Arie thought Cees looked resigned as she opened the door.

  “You should have called before coming over, Lilly,” Cees said to the crouched form in her entryway.

  Arie had to crane her neck to get her Þ rst look at this Lilly. A dark curtain of bone-straight black hair hid her face from Arie as she fumbled inside an impossibly large purse. Even squatting as she was, Arie could tell she was small and would come no higher than her shoulder, if that. She was wearing tight black leather pants and a matching leather bralike top. The bra was covered by a voluminous white shirt that Arie imagined was absolutely no obstacle to the biting chill in the air.

  “’Bout damn time. It’s cold out there,” she groused as she stood up and teetered past Cees on ridiculously tall heels. Heels or no, she couldn’t be more than Þ ve-foot-two, Arie decided.

  Her makeup accentuated her almond-shaped eyes and her hair glistened with a sheen that Arie would have thought impossible if

  • 114 •

  RE
MEMBER TOMORROW

  she wasn’t seeing it for herself. The woman could have worn a lot less suggestive clothing and still exuded sex appeal. Arie looked down at her jeans. Despite the fact that Cees was similarly clad, she still felt frumpy.

  “You should have worn a coat, Lilly,” Cees said while watching the newcomer with the caution of a person about to handle something volatile.

  “I didn’t have one that went with the outÞ t.” Lilly was still rooting around in her purse as she walked in. “I know for sure I put that key in here.” Lilly turned to Cees. “Anyway, I think you should get smashed while you still can. They have this new club called the Velvet Rabbit and…” Lilly trailed off as the curtain that had apparently let her walk into the room without noticing Arie lifted.

  There was a long, shocked pause, and then a strangled,

  “Oh—no you didn’t.” Lilly dropped her bag and began tottering toward Arie at an alarming speed. Arie looked for a place to put the towels in case she had to defend herself, but Lilly stopped just short of ramming her head into her chest.

  “What is she doing here, Cees Bannigan?” Her accent had thickened, and Cees’s last name sounded like bunion instead of Bannigan in her anger. DeÞ nitely a lover. Arie clenched her jaw and refused to step away from the furious Þ gure in front of her.

  “Lilly, Arie doesn’t remember anything about our past.”

  “Oh, so you thought you’d start over fresh?”

  “Lilly, please, let’s not do this now.”

  “You know what, Cees?” Lilly held up her hands. “Let’s not do this at all.” She Þ nally turned away from Arie; her long black hair seemed to reach out and slap Cees across her face the way her hand probably wanted to. What was going on here? Did she actually know this Lilly? She had to have known her to make her hate her so.

  Lilly yanked up her open purse, barely managing to keep from spilling its contents, and hobbled back out into the freezing cold, taking short little choppy steps that made the extent of her

  • 115 •