by Sosie Frost
Also the red watch on his wrist.
The red earrings in his ears.
Did he really show up in colors?
I stared at him—this strong man made of muscles and sheepish smiles. He watched me too, giving a full-on chuckle at my surprise.
“Evie Hamilton.” He grinned. “Look at you, girl.”
I had absolutely no recollection of this man.
My stomach bunched. I pinched my eyes shut and forced every thought, doubt, and worry from my head. I searched under every cobweb and corner in my brain to find those lost memories.
They didn’t come.
And the disappointment nearly drove me to my knees.
“Hi.” The hope drained from me. “I…”
“Nice place.” He didn’t bother with introductions. Then again, we had known each other for a long time. Presumably. “Shit. They set you up good.”
“Yeah…” I closed the door, the click of the latch a final strike to shatter the remnants of my heart. “This apartment a bit more than I expected.”
“Damn right. Ain’t never had anything this good.”
Oh. Well. That reaffirmed my one intuition.
I rubbed my temples. I could remember every lyric to the silly songs I found for Clue online, but nothing about this man. Somewhere between Puff the Magic Dragon and the Guacamole Song existed a memory that I just couldn’t summon.
“You remember me?” He didn’t bother waiting before scoping out the rest of the apartment. “They said you got hurt real bad.”
I led him into the kitchen, but the hair prickled on my neck. I blocked his path before he headed down the hall to the nursery.
I arched an eyebrow. “A gentleman introduces himself.”
“Ha, whatchu playing? I ain’t no gentleman.”
Obviously. “I’m sorry. I don’t remember anything…including you.”
“That’s a shame.”
“No…that’s your cue to help me.”
“I’m no head doc.” Satisfied with the apartment, he sunk onto my couch and tossed his muddy shoes on my coffee table. I swatted his foot. He swore as he returned them to the ground. “Same old, Evie. Still getting on my shit.”
I gritted my teeth.
This was the man who could return my memories to me?
I couldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth, not when I was staring at a jackass.
I stopped playing polite. “What’s your name?”
“Darnell.”
Fantastic. I sucked in a breath. Darnell. Darnell. Darnell.
Nothing. The name did nothing for me.
“And I’m…?” I shrugged at him. “Who am I?”
“Evie. Damn girl. You really fucked your head.”
“And you’re my…”
“They give you money to live here?” He glanced around. “You got a job?”
“I have a baby,” I said. “And no identification. No social security number. No name. Nothing.”
“No reward?”
“For what?”
“I don’t know. Finding you.”
“I’m your reward!”
“Sure.”
My stomach turned. This wasn’t right.
No romance. No flowers. No memories.
No heartfelt pleas and hugs and desperate kisses.
Not even a question about his daughter.
His considerably lighter-skinned daughter.
“So…” I crossed my arms. “We were dating?”
“On and off.” He winked. “Always came back to me. Only I could give you what you needed, baby.”
Unless it was a lobotomy, I wasn’t believing it. I had a little respect for myself. “So…where have you been?”
“Home.”
I sucked in a breath. “Okay…why didn’t you come looking for me? It’s been six months since my accident.”
“I don’t know. We broke it off. Was I supposed to look for you?”
“I was pregnant.”
“Yeah.”
That was it? He said nothing else?
I boiled, but I didn’t blow. Not yet.
“So we’ve dated then?” I waited for him to nod. “Where are we from?”
“Ironfield.” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “Not this block. Ain’t got penthouses where you belong, baby girl.”
Great. “Where’s my family?”
“What family?”
“My mother? Father?”
He laughed. “You really did fuck your shit up. You don’t got a family.”
“None?”
“Your daddy ran off. Momma drank herself to death.” He pointed at me. “You had Granna…until she was gone too.”
Granna.
Jesus.
I sunk into the chair, head foggy. He knew Granna?
Oh God. Then he must have known me.
“You remember her though.” He grinned. “Everyone did.”
“Where…is she?”
“Dead.”
The thought broke my heart, and I didn’t know why. “Oh.”
“Fuck, Evie. You don’t remember that either?”
“No.”
“Good.” His tone shifted—cold and accusatory. “Cause it’s your fault.”
“What?”
“Fucking cops. Got in her house. Found someone else’s weed. Busted her.”
“But…”
“All them kids she helped? Feeding ‘em? Clothing ‘em?” Darnell scowled. “Fuck. Back on the street.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Good thing you got out. She wouldn’t have wanted you whoring your ass on the corner to get by.”
“I’m not a whore.”
“Yeah. Cause she was there. Cause she took you in. Cause she helped you.” Darnell laughed. “She got you out…then you fucked us all over.”
“I didn’t—” I frowned. “How?”
“Who sent the cops, Evie?”
“I don’t remember.”
“We do.”
I stood, pacing the living room. Granna dead? Arrested? The facts entered my mind and immediately dissolved into misty confusion.
The only memories I had of her were good. She was a sweet, kind, fiery lady.
I would never have hurt her.
I would never have hurt anyone.
Why would I have sent the police?
And how the hell could I have loved a man as crass and rude as him?
This was all wrong. None of it made sense.
“Are you hungry?” I forced the words out. “I’ll order us a pizza.”
“Whatever.”
“What do you want on it?”
“Cheese.”
“Anything else?”
Darnell stretched out on the couch. “No.”
“Pineapple?”
“That’s some bullshit, baby.”
My hackles rose. This wasn’t right. Not at all.
I used to fight the man from my memories for that last slice of pizza. We’d flip a coin for it. Rock/Paper/Scissors. Guilt each other.
I sucked in a breath. “So…we dated a long time?”
“Yeah. You liked the D.”
Yeah. D for Doubtful. “Did we used to go out?”
“With what money?”
I swallowed. “But like…we had to do something. Dates. Did I live with you?”
“We crashed sometimes.”
“What about Friday nights?”
“What about it?”
“Did we do anything special?”
“Fuck.”
That wasn’t the answer I hoped for. “What?”
“Ain’t that special?”
“Yeah, cause a night with you must have been filled with Hallmark moments.”
He shrugged. “You got full of something.”
“What about when we got pregnant?”
He snorted. “Yeah. That was a problem.”
“A problem?”
“Ain’t it always?”
No.
Not at all.
Not what I remembered.
We had been excited. Thrilled. I remembered his arm curling over my belly, pressing where our baby had begun to grow. We’d kissed. Made plans.
Made love.
“Weren’t we happy?” I asked.
“I don’t know.” He shrugged but sensed my frustration. “Yeah. Yeah, you were. Got all excited about the kid.”
“Really.”
“All you talked about.”
I knocked his feet off the coffee table. “Did I get the nursery ready?”
“We didn’t have room for a nursery.”
Lies.
“But I must have prepared.” I frowned. “Did we have a name picked out?”
Darnell grinned. “Junior.”
“Junior?”
“Yeah. After his old man.”
He was lying.
Six months ago, I awoke in the hospital, nearly flattened by the truck, covered with pink paint. I had been working on a nursery for a little girl.
I pulled Clue’s ribbon from my pocket, letting the pink flowers on the band dangle before his face.
“Junior, huh?” I stepped closer, practically snarling. “I’ll give you ten seconds to get the fuck out of my home.”
Darnell swore. “Okay. Evie, wait.”
“Ten.”
“I’m not your fiancé.”
“Nine.” I pointed at the door. “Eight.”
“I thought there’d be a reward.”
“Seven.”
“Shit. Let me explain.”
“Get the hell out.”
“You really don’t remember me?”
“I’m going to call the cops.”
His smile faded. “Yeah. That I believe. You’re good at that.”
“I don’t know who the hell you are, but if you ever come near me again, I swear to God, I’ll send you straight to hell.”
“Don’t gotta do that.” He extended his arms and walked to the door. “Hell is where the heart is now…thanks to you. Granna’s gone. There ain’t no safe place on the block.” He waved a hand over my apartment. “At least you can rest your pretty head good tonight. If you can sleep after what you did. You’re fucking lucky you don’t remember the shit you pulled.”
“Three, two, one. Get out.”
“Just know…we sure as hell remember you.” Darnell grinned. “And ain’t no one coming back, ain’t no one looking for a traitor like you.”
Darnell didn’t fight me. He swore as I slammed the door on him, catching his heel against the wood. I didn’t care. I locked the door and threw the chain over it, slamming a hand against the frame as he laughed from the hall.
Clue’s cries carried over the apartment.
“Damn it…” I pushed away from the door. “This isn’t happening.”
My baby waited for me with teary eyes and grabby hands, begging for me to pick her up and hold her close.
Poor thing didn’t realize I needed the hug more.
I cradled her in my arms, pulling her out of the crib. My legs were too weak to hold us both. I knelt on the floor. Clue sat upright, tears gone, grinning as her momma sat beside her to play. One multi-colored plastic key ring and teddy bear later, and Clue’s chubby cheeks and squeals should have been enough to cheer me up.
Not this time.
Not now.
She banged the keys against the floor, giggling as they rattled. Her roly-poly legs kicked, and she nearly toppled over backwards in glee.
“Oh ah eeeeeee.” Her commands were becoming quite pronounced. Sit me up. Give me toys. Smile. Feed me. Diapers. “Eeeeeeeeee!”
I gave her feet a tickle, my words trapped in a breathless plea. “I’m so sorry, Clue.”
She didn’t seem to mind. Her grin widened, and she nibbled on her keys with a drooly bite. Her butt scooted across the floor, but she hadn’t figured out how to crawl just yet.
“I thought he’d be the one.” I snuggled her closer, giving her sides a little tickle. “I really did.”
“Ieee ah.” She answered and threw the keys down. This traumatized her, and her face crinkled with the beginning of a cry until I returned the plastic to her hand. She then threw it again.
I leaned down, giving her a kiss. “Between the two of us? I’m glad he wasn’t your daddy.”
Clue agreed, bobbing her head. I pulled the headband from my pocket and held her still, replacing the pink between her bounding curls.
“There you go,” I said. Her eyebrows furrowed, but she let the headband stay. “So pretty!”
Like I had to tell her that.
My baby was beautiful. Sweet. A goddamned gift to me, despite the presents she left in her diaper. But no matter how much she meant to me—no matter how much joy and love and purpose she blessed me with…
I could do nothing else for her.
I fed her. Clothed her. Comforted her. Loved her.
But I had no daddy to give her. No home to provide for her. No past to offer her.
And I had no idea what future I could give.
“I think we’re on our own, Clue…” My words whispered, heartbroken and straining. “No one is coming for us.”
And that wasn’t fair.
I didn’t care about me. I could be heartbroken. I could be alone. But her? This innocent, beautiful baby?
She deserved a family.
We were alone. We had been alone for so long. No one had looked for us. No one had gone to the media. No one went to the police.
Because no one was missing me.
The paint on my hands in the hospital? My own attempt to make a nursery.
Six months of endless searching? The denial to accept that I was alone.
The memories that wouldn’t come? A fragile mind protecting me from the truth.
Whatever had happened in my past, whatever family I lost and lives I destroyed was my own fault. My mind sheltered me from a truth that must have been…terrible.
No money. No family. No home.
And a beautiful, fatherless baby who had no idea that her world should have been so much bigger. Should have been so much better. Should have been brighter, safer, and made for her.
I had loved someone. Once. That much I knew. I felt it, and I remembered it.
But from the very first feelings that flooded back, I knew what I had done.
The man I loved was gone. I’d pushed him from my life.
And this was my consequence.
No one was coming for me.
And it was all my fault.
16
I let myself grieve for a past I lost and a future I didn’t deserve.
I deserved that moment of mourning.
But I refused to wallow in misery for longer than an hour. Not when the baby needed to be fed, her diaper changed, and my life restarted.
People always said that when life closed a door, someone opened a window.
Well, fuck the window and door. It was time to take a sledge-hammer to the damn wall. I was taking what was mine. A beautiful happy life with a man who protected and watched over and cared for me and my baby.
Shepard had been right. And he’d love to hear me say it. The interview was a mistake, and the man claiming to be my fiancé a scam artist who only wanted money.
Well, tonight, Shepard would get a heartfelt apology.
No one was coming for me? Fantastic. That meant that I could chase after him.
I checked the time. Ten o’clock at night. Not the best moment to travel with a baby. At least I had a sense of adventure.
I packed Clue up in her stroller and stuffed a handful of onesies and dresses in her diaper bag. An extra package of diapers fit in the stroller’s basket. The greatest invention since the epidural was a mommy purse—a caddy that hooked to the stroller with pockets for everything from diaper cream to a caramel frappuccino. Diapers, wipes, extra binkies, blankets, an umbrella. I shoved it all in there.
“If Shepard won’t answer his phone…” I glanced over the living room, narrowing my eyes on her Pa
ck N Play. Perfect. “We’ll go get him.”
The contraption seemed more mouse trap than baby furniture, but beggars couldn’t be choosers, and sometimes exhausted mommas needed to jail their kid while making dinner. Clue hadn’t snuck a shiv into the Pack N Play yet, but I still patted down the walls and mattresses to ensure she hadn’t dug an escape hole.
I had no idea how long it would take me to apologize to Shepard, and Clue would need a place to rest. It was coming too.
If I could dismantle it first.
Supposedly the Pack N Play actually packed. I tossed the mattress pad out and attempted to kick the middle bar up first. No go. I leaned over the side, tugged, and nearly fell face first into the mesh as the leg jammed.
Most of Clue’s toys and equipment came with age-related warnings and choking hazards. No one had warned me to avoid impaling myself on her damn portable crib.
If it wasn’t a diaper genie, it wasn’t worth dying for.
I grabbed the middle leg and pulled. Too hard. The crib supernova collapsed in the middle. The legs bent—I think that was supposed to happen—and the entire contraption collapsed onto its side. I stared at it. Somehow the whole thing was intended to fold up to be the size of a backpack.
Yeah, right.
I seized the arm and wrestled for the release. Did it jiggle, or was that my arm clinging to the last bit of baby weight?
I squeezed.
The joint squeaked and collapsed on my finger. I squealed, falling to my knees.
The word nearly wrenched from my lips. “Sh—”
Clue stared at me, alert, listening, and learning.
This episode of motherhood futility was brought to her by the letter S for Shucks! That really smarts!
I sucked on my wounded finger. So the crib demanded a blood sacrifice to pack up. At least the messy business was done. I aimed for the opposite arm with the same hesitance I gave a can of ready-to-bake biscuits pounded on the counter. One good pop and I ducked my hand out of the way before motherhood gave me another blister.
I folded where it said to fold, pinched where it wanted to be pinched, even slapped it around a bit and called it the name it liked to be called. But the side-rails didn’t want to close, the mesh tied itself in a knot, and the squeal of metal wasn’t the soothing twinkle-time music that rocked Clue to sleep.
Too damn bad.
I grabbed the mattress pad and wrapped that sucker up. When the Velcro didn’t take, I looked for the next best thing. I didn’t have rope, but I found some heavy-duty support guaranteed to strap up heavier objects than a Pack N Play.
