Muscle Memory

by Stylo Fantome

  “What?”

  “My name. I thought about what you said last night, and it still sucks, not remembering. Not knowing. But I figure maybe having a real name will help. Mentally, or whatever. And John Doe just sounds so stupid, like I'm making it up,” he said. She nodded.

  “I like this. What have you decided?” she asked. He was glad she didn't just laugh at him.

  “I'm used to Jon now, but no H in the spelling. And since Doe is what everybody already knows me by, I didn't want to get too far away from it. How does Jon Doherty sound?” he asked. She smiled broadly.

  “Sounds like an incredibly successful, smart, sexy as all get out man,” she assured him. He laughed.

  “You only want to help me for my body,” he joked.

  “I'm glad you finally caught on,” she rolled with it, then she glanced at her watch. “Well, c'mon Mr. Doherty, let's go make you a productive member of society!”

  Jon grumbled, but he followed her out to her car. He was still nervous. If he could barely handle a Starbucks, how he was going to live through doing an actual job? What if he got in the kitchen, and he didn't know how anything worked? In his mind, he could picture a stove, and picture how it worked, but putting it into practice might be totally different.

  The community center was a large brick building and the grounds were well manicured. A tennis court sat to the side, though the net had been removed and two battered basketball hoops had been put up at either end.

  Inside there was a gym, just as Sloany had said, and a proper basketball court. Everything was very clean and well maintained, but dated looking. Down a hallway there were rooms with all sorts of things – computers filled one, a large work tables another, and one was almost wall to wall sewing machines.

  At the very back of the building was a large cafeteria, filled with round tables and a bunch of chairs stacked against the back wall. Long, buffet style tables were against a different wall. Off to one side they found a large kitchen which was full of shiny, intimidating looking industrial appliances.

  “Can I help you?” an older woman asked as she peeled off a pair of plastic gloves. Her mouth curved down at the corners and she looked at Jon reprovingly.

  Great, looks like Miss Beaumont is gonna be a laugh riot.

  “Hi, I spoke with your director about my client, Jon,” Mrs. Sloan said, gesturing to him in introduction. “He's going to be volunteering with you. They said for him to be here at noon today, but he wanted to come early to learn about the place.”

  “Right, I remember hearing about you. Follow me,” the grumpy woman sighed and started walking towards the back of the kitchen.

  Jon was cursing every deity he could think of, wondering what he'd done to deserve this. How awful a person had he been that his memory had been wiped and he'd been placed in a job with a goblin for a boss? He kept his mouth shut as they walked down a hallway and stopped at a door.

  “Katherine!” the goblin barked, knocking sharply. “The charity case is here!”

  Huh?

  He was confused at first, but quickly realized it must mean the ol' grump wasn't his boss.

  “Please don't talk like that, Geraldine!” a light voice said from inside the room, then the door was ripped open. “It's just mean, and what if they heard ...”

  Jon stared at the woman in the doorway, a little shocked. She looked young, possibly younger than him. She had long blonde hair falling around her shoulders in perfectly curated waves and warm brown eyes that smiled at him, even though her jaw was hanging open. She was stunning. Like a model. He instantly felt the need to impress her. Wanted to say something professional and assuring.

  “Too late,” he blurted out, then was instantly embarrassed.

  Sloany was right, I must have been an awful shit in my past life.

  But the blonde girl laughed and pressed a hand over her face, then stepped out into the hallway. The other woman, Geraldine, walked off with a grunt.

  “I'm sorry about her,” the girl sighed. “She's just started a week ago, and she's having trouble adjusting. Her personal life is a little rough right now.”

  “Honey, whose isn't?” Sloany joked, and they all laughed again. “I'm assuming you're Katherine Beaumont?”

  “Lord, where are my manners? Yes, that's me, I think we spoke on the phone,” Katherine said, quickly shaking Mrs. Sloan's hand.

  “Nice to meet you, I'm Bev Sloan, and this is the man we spoke about,” Sloany said, turning towards him.

  “Yes, John Doe, I heard saw you on the news once. I'm so sorry you're going through this,” Katherine said, offering her hand. He took it gently in his own, like he was afraid he'd get her dirty or hurt her.

  “Oh, no, this isn't John Doe,” Mrs. Sloan said quickly. “This is now Jon Doherty.”

  Jon was a little embarrassed, but Katherine seemed to roll right with it.

  “Oh, well, it's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Doherty,” she said, pumping his hand up and down. He finally smiled at her.

  “You, too, Katherine,” he replied. She shook her head.

  “Not Katherine, please. I always feel like I'm in trouble when people call me Katherine. Call me Kitty – everyone does,” she urged. His smile got bigger.

  “Okay. It's really good to meet you, Kitty.”

  She smiled back at him and he realized they were still holding hands.

  “You, too, Jon.”

  Before

  “I want to know everything about you.”

  Jay looked down at his chest. Delaney was sprawled across it, drawing lazy circles on his skin with her fingertip. They were both completely naked, laying on top of her bed. If it hadn't been for her talking, he would've been knocked out. Having sex all day can do that to a person. They hadn't left the bed for anything, except using the bathroom. Not even to smoke the joints he'd brought over – he was shockingly sober and clearheaded for a Saturday afternoon.

  Maybe this chick will be good for me. Get me on the right track.

  “Like what, specifically?” he chuckled, running his fingers through her hair.

  “Where you come from, what your family is like. Who your first love was, where you went to school,” she said. He took a deep breath and glanced out the open window. It was mid-May and New York was starting to heat up for real.

  “I'm from Iowa,” he started, and she burst out laughing.

  “You? You're from Iowa?” she asked. He looked down at her.

  “Why is that so hard to believe?”

  “You're just so ... exotic. I don't picture people like you living in Iowa.”

  “Very narrow minded of you, Del,” he teased. She bit him on the chest.

  “Shut up and explain what a hottie like you was doing in farm country.”

  “My mother was a Mexican migrant worker at a farm there, wheat or some shit. My father was from Denmark, he has degrees in agriculture and botany or whatever. The farm she worked at, it's huge, like part of a corporation. He was hired to help with whatever botanists do on farms. He met her and it was end of story. He never went back to Denmark, she never left Iowa. She stopped working, they got married, they had me, and then two girls,” he explained in a rush.

  “Wow, Jay, that's pretty amazing! Danish and Mexican, huh?” she commented, brushing her fingertips across his forehead.

  “Yup.”

  “So what happened? You keep saying 'was' and 'had' – did they die?” she asked. He shook his head, but didn't respond right away. He didn't want to tell her the truth.

  “No. We're not close, we haven't spoken in a while. They're still in Iowa, still doing their thing,” he answered evasively.

  “What happened?”

  “Just some bullshit.”

  Bullshit like he stole money and jewelry to pay for his habit. It was all in the past – he didn't do speed anymore – but they'd kicked him out and they'd never invited him back. Never even tried to check up on him. He hadn't seen his little sisters in over four years. But he didn't want Del to know that ab
out him. She knew he was a hardcore partier, but he didn't think of himself as a drug addict, and he didn't want her to think of him that way, either.

  “You can tell me, I won't judge you,” she assured him, then she planted a kiss on his breastbone. He trailed his fingers up and down her spine while he stared at the ceiling.

  “But I haven't answered your other questions,” he distracted her. “Family was good growing up, my sisters are a riot. We all look alike, people thought we were triplets. I was pretty good in high school, got good grades, and got into Kirkwood Community College on a scholarship.”

  “I never knew you went to college,” she commented, resting her cheek against him.

  “Yup, Jayson Fairbanks ain't as stupid as he looks.”

  “Shut up.”

  “I only went for like two years, though,” he said, going back to brushing his fingers through her thick hair. “I wasn't really into it, so I dropped out. A year or so later, I decided to move to New York with a bunch of friends. We wound up in Brooklyn, and I've been floating around Williamsburg ever since.”

  “Mmm,” she mumbled. “And what about the love of your life? You didn't answer that question – I want to hear all about her.”

  He spread his fingers across the back of her head, holding her tightly to his chest.

  “She's a crazy girl from Connecticut who seems like the girl next door, but fucks like the bad girl from the other side of the tracks. Just looking at her turns me inside out and I swear, I'm gonna fucking marry her someday,” he said simply.

  There was a long silence, but Jay wasn't nervous. He was rarely ever nervous, especially when it came to his feelings. They couldn't be helped and he couldn't control them, and he certainly couldn't control hers, so what was the point of being nervous?

  Still, when she lifted herself and crawled up his body and planted a gentle kiss on his lips, his heart swelled.

  “And when you finally ask her, she will definitely fucking say yes,” she whispered.

  5

  The weeks went by and Jon was surprised to find he was actually enjoying life.

  He and the tough old guy who ran the halfway house, Gary Tupper, got along shockingly well. Mr. Tupper sort of took him under his wing. They would go running in the mornings, and at night they went down to a weight room he'd had set up in the basement. Jon had lost a lot of weight while in the hospital, but he quickly started putting it all back on in muscle.

  Part of the weight gain was also thanks to Ms. Gaines, chef extraordinaire at Benson House. She managed to make some amazing meals out of the meager supplies they had – lots of carbs and protein, everything a growing boy needed. Jon helped out in the kitchen often, and took a real liking to her garden. He spent lots of time out there, weeding and raking and learning the basics of gardening.

  The other guys in the house weren't so bad, either. A couple had massive chips on their shoulders, and there was an incident in the hallway which ended with Jon having a split lip and the other guy having a broken nose. A week without a door was punishment enough and after his one fight¸ he made sure to let nothing provoke him.

  The rest of the guys, though, were honestly trying to better themselves and do right. They had a game night every Thursday. On Saturday nights, when the urge to go out and get into trouble was at its strongest, they would set up a poker game in the kitchen. They played for pretzels and peanuts, but it was nice. A strange sort of comradeship was built out of moments like those ones.

  The best, though, was his volunteer work. He looked forward to it every day, and was genuinely bummed when it was over. He often worked longer than the three hours he was scheduled for, often as many as six, before he would remember he had chores he had to do at the house. Sometimes, though, breaking the rules almost seemed worth it, if it meant getting to spend more time with her.

  Kitty was amazing. She was smart and she was kind and she had a good soul. It shone out of her face, anyone who spoke to her could see it. He showed up early and he stayed late, just to be in her beautiful presence. Just to stare at her for a little longer, just to flirt with her a tiny bit more. Sometimes she could be a bit bossy. A tad controlling. Maybe even a little, dare he say, snobby. But she was the boss, so she had to be that way at the community center. He wondered what she was like outside of her volunteer work.

  She was one of those women who was always put together, and he realized he really liked that about her. She always had her hair and makeup done, no matter what time of day it was or how she was feeling. She was always dressed in nice clothing that complimented her great figure. And she always, always, wore a tiny gold cross around her neck.

  “What's with the crucifix? You're here even on Sundays, so I know you're not going to church,” Jon asked one day. She smiled sweetly but didn't look up from what they were doing. They were serving spaghetti and meatballs for dinner, which meant they were rolling hamburger into a million little balls.

  “You don't have to go to church to serve,” she replied simply.

  “Good little southern girl like you, not going to church?” he clucked his tongue at her. “What would your mother say.”

  “You could ask her – she's right over there,” she laughed, gesturing to a tall woman on the other side of the room who was directing other workers.

  Kitty and her mom could almost pass as sisters. Same blonde hair, same figure, same warm eyes, and the same southern accent. Kitty's was a lot less noticeable, she'd been living in New York since she was eleven, and the years had softened it. But Mrs. Beaumont sounded like she was straight out of Baton Rouge.

  “No, no, I'd hate to get you in trouble,” he laughed. He loved teasing her and flirting with her. It seemed to get her flustered, like she wasn't sure what to do with herself. Her cheeks would turn pink and she wouldn't meet his eyes. But then she'd always surprise him by turning around and dishing it out right back to him.

  “And what about you, Mr. Doherty? Why isn't an upstanding boy like yourself in church on Sundays?” she questioned, finally looking at him and raising an eyebrow.

  “I don't know if I'm religious,” he answered honestly. “For all I know, I was a satanist in my last life. Or worse – Scientologist.”

  “I wouldn't judge you if you were.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I mean, at least not to your face.”

  It almost felt weird, talking so normally about something so bizarre. She was standing next to a man with a made up name. Made up, because he couldn't remember his own name. But since day one, she'd acted like it was no big deal, as if it was just another fact about him. Like “you have green eyes, you're six-foot-three, and you have amnesia. Pass the lemonade, please.” It was awesome. Even Sloany wasn't so good at acting like he was normal.

  “You know what I think,” he started, turning to grab a towel and wiping off his hands.

  “Oh, I can feel it, I'm about to be enlightened,” she snickered, wiping off her hands, as well.

  “You look like a good girl, and you act like a good girl, but really, you're not even close,” he called her out. She playfully narrowed her eyes and plunked her hands on her hips.

  “You caught me, Jon. I'm not a good girl at all,” she took the tease even further, stepping well into sexual tension territory when she moved closer to him.

  “Not even a little. Nope, I think you're most definitely a bad girl.”

  A shudder ripped across his shoulders after he said those words, startling him. His eyes flared open wide and he felt a strange, sinking sensation in the center of his chest. It was ... familiarity. But why? Something about those words, that term. Bad girl. What did it mean? Had he said those words before, to somebody else?

  What the fuck does this all mean!? Jesus, was I really a babysitter?

  “What's wrong?” Kitty asked, noticing the strange look on his face. He frowned and glanced around.

  “I don't know, I ...” he licked his lips and struggled to explain himself. “I think I almost remembered somethin
g, but it's gone.”

  “Oh no!” she gasped, then she was grabbing his hands and squeezing them in her own. “It's gone already?”

  “Yeah. It was just a second, more like a feeling. Probably nothing, don't worry about it,” he tried to shrug it off. Kitty was having none of it, though, and she shocked him by pulling him into a hug.

  “I'm so sorry you have to go through this, Jon,” she sighed as she dropped her head to his shoulder. “You're a good person. You are now, and I just know you were one before, and you don't deserve this. I wish I could give you your memories back.”

  “It's okay,” he said, slowly wrapping his arms around her shoulders. “I'm building new ones with you, and that's almost as good.”

  They stood together for a long second. He didn't want to let go. She was so warm and wonderful smelling. She eventually did pull away, but only enough so she could look him in the face. She kept her arms around his waist.

  “Jon,” she spoke in a slow voice. “Come spend Christmas with us?”

  “What?” he asked, shocked again.

  “I was gonna ask you later today anyway. I want you to come home with me for Christmas next week,” she insisted.

  “No, I can't, it would be weird. I'd be the random dude who showed up to Christmas. I don't want to make your family uncomfortable,” he said, shifting around in her hold, trying to break free. She squeezed him tighter.

  “My mother loves you, you know that, and my dad has been asking to meet you. No one will be uncomfortable.”

  “Kitty, I can't afford to get anyone presents, I'd have to show up empty handed.”

  Ten-thousand dollars really didn't stretch very far when a person had literally nothing to their name. Sloany had worked out a budget for him which would optimize the money, make it last as long as possible, but it also basically meant he was dirt poor. He had planned on splurging and getting Kitty a gift anyway, but he couldn't get stuff for her whole family.

  “Do you honestly think I care about stuff like that? You're going, it's done. I want you there, and we both know you can't say no to me, so you might as well give in now,” she informed him.