Muscle Memory

by Stylo Fantome

  “I'm sorry,” he sighed, laying flat on top of her. They were both down to just their underwear.

  “Sorry for what?” she panted. He slid off her, then sat up on the edge of the mattress.

  “I can't do this,” he breathed, putting his head in his hands.

  “What?” she asked, and he listened as she sat up. “What do you mean? I thought things were going good.”

  “No, yeah, they are,” he stammered, glancing over his shoulder at her. She was kneeling behind him, the moonlight splashing on her toasty tan and pink nipples.

  I'm insane. How am I turning this down!?

  “If they are, then why are you stopping? Don't you want me?” she asked, her voice full of tears as she crawled to his side.

  “Of course,” he said, looking over at her. “It's just ... it's been a rough couple weeks, okay? I'm tired and I'm stressed out and I'm just really sorry.”

  “It's her, isn't it?” Kitty stated in a dead voice.

  “No,” he replied.

  “It is,” she shook her head. “You've been different ever since she found you. Do you still love her!?”

  “Kitty, I don't even know her. Not any better than you do,” he lied. “How can I love someone I don't know?”

  “I can be like her,” Kitty breathed, moving off the bed and standing in front of him. “I know you like ... other stuff. Dirty stuff. I can be dirty.”

  “Kitty, stop,” he urged, holding up his hand, wanting to stop this embarrassment train from leaving the station.

  “Why don't you make me stop, you ... you bad boy,” she snapped, then she lightly slapped him on the side of his face. She could've pulled out a gun and he would've been less shocked.

  “What did you just say?”

  “You heard me.”

  “Kitty, please, let's just -”

  She slapped him again, then grabbed his hand and placed it against one of her breasts.

  “Kitty,” she purred her name, “has been a very naughty girl. She needs to be punished.” She started dragging his hand down her body, awkwardly pushing it down the front of her panties.

  “This can't be real life,” he whispered.

  “That's right, stroke the Kitty. She's been a bad, bad ... pussy.”

  He couldn't help it, he burst out laughing. He knew it was wrong and he would probably scar her for life and it would send him to hell, but he couldn't help it. It was so ridiculous, and so not her. So not them.

  “Stop laughing at me!” she yelled, stamping her feet. He had tears in his eyes as he stared up at her.

  “Stroke the Kitty!?” he gasped for air.

  He knew he should stop laughing, but he couldn't, so he was extremely grateful when she started laughing, too. He took his hand out of her panties and she bent at the waist, laughing so loud, she couldn't breathe.

  When their laughter calmed down to just chuckling, he groped around for some clothing and wound up handing her his shirt. Kitty was pretty tall, almost five foot ten, but it was still big on her. She pulled it into place, then sat down next to him.

  “I'm sorry,” she sighed, grabbing his hand. “I tried.”

  “I know. Thank you. Can I be honest?”

  “Sure.”

  “Please don't ever try that again.”

  They both laughed again for a minute.

  “I just,” she sighed when they fell silent. “I don't want to lose you, Jon. You've been like my purpose these past couple months. I don't know what I'd do with myself without you.”

  He frowned in the darkness, but squeezed her hand. He didn't want to be someone's purpose. That made him sound like a job. Was that how Kitty viewed him? He knew she was trying to express her feelings, though, so he let it go.

  “You're not losing me,” he assured her.

  “It feels like I am,” she whispered.

  Jon got off the bed and knelt in front of her. He wouldn't lie to her – he may have been some drugged out loser in his last life, but in this one, he was a straight up guy. He held her hands in his and looked her straight in the eye.

  “I'm not going anywhere,” he promised. “I'm gonna tell you the truth – I don't know what the future holds for us. I can't predict that, and you're right, things have changed. She is someone special to me. I don't really know how or why, but she is, I can't deny it. But Kitty, you're special, too. No one can ever take your place. You gave me a family when I didn't even have an identity. You accepted me from the first moment you met me, that's a big deal. I won't ever forget that, no matter what happens to the two of us. No matter how many memories I get back, nothing can take that away from us.”

  She looked down at him, her eyes so big and wide and full of love that he wasn't shocked by what she said next.

  “I love you, Jon Doherty,” she breathed. He smiled sadly at her and squeezed her hands.

  “That's because you've got the biggest heart of anyone I've ever known,” he whispered back. “You can't help but love everyone around you, and I'm so thankful for that. Thank you for loving me, Kitty. Thank you for taking care of me.”

  They crawled into bed together and he wrapped his arms around her and held her tightly to his chest. She smiled and told him funny stories about her first impressions of him. He apologized for not being able to make love, and she said it was okay, that she hadn't really wanted to, either. Another time, maybe.

  Maybe ...

  Long after she fell asleep and rolled onto her back, Jon stared down at her. He was sitting up with his back against the headboard, and he reached down to brush some hair away from her face. She really was a beautiful girl. He wondered if she'd ever tried to model, with her long legs and stunning good looks. Wondered why someone hadn't snatched her up yet – they'd discovered she was actually a year and a half older than Jon. She was too special, she didn't deserve to be alone.

  “I'm sorry, Kitty,” he whispered to her.

  How could she expect him to love her, when he didn't even know what love was?

  Liar. You saw love once. In a steamy bathroom mirror with a stranger you used to know.

  14

  Katherine Beaumont wasn't typically a nervous person. She'd gone to great finishing schools and generally knew how to handle herself in any situation.

  Not that day, though. She sat in a bar a couple blocks down from Jon's hotel, and her feet were tapping out a nervous rhythm against her bar stool. She had even started chewing on her thumbnail, ruining a ninety dollar manicure. Then the cause for her nerves entered the room and she took a deep breath. Put on her best smile and stood up.

  “Hi! I'm so glad you could make it,” she said as Delaney Carter hurried up to her.

  “Oh god, I'm sorry I'm late,” the other girl breathed, holding still while Kitty leaned down to air kiss her cheeks. “The other waitress at work was late, they held me over.”

  “No problem, no problem. Please, sit. I ordered some appetizers.”

  Kitty watched while Delaney shrugged out of her jacket. She felt awkward being around someone so short. In her heels, Kitty was over six foot, and normally it made her feel like a supermodel to be so tall. But Delaney was maybe five-foot-three, at most, and her plain black waitressing shoes didn't boost her height at all. She was petite and cute with a cherubic face, and all at once Kitty felt like a hunchbacked ogre, clomping around some beautiful fairy.

  I hate you, I hate you, I hate you.

  “Oh, thanks! What is that?” Delaney asked, gesturing to Kitty's drink.

  “Oh, blood orange martini, to die for. You should totally get one.”

  “Sounds delicious, but I don't drink anymore. I'll just have some tea.”

  A waiter appeared and took Delaney's order, then he left them in an awkward silence. The tiny girl glanced around the room, then quickly flicked her gaze over Kitty.

  “I like your necklace,” she complimented her. Good manners dictated that Kitty return the compliment, but the first piece of jewelry her eyes landed on was a large mood ring on Delaney's left
hand. Jon owned a mood ring, he'd been wearing it before his accident. Cold, bitter jealousy raged in Kitty's chest and she pressed her hand to the simple gold locket hanging from her neck.

  “Thank you, Jon got it for me. For Valentine's Day,” she said, then instantly regretted it. She wasn't a nasty person, she didn't want to hurt Delaney. Much.

  “Well, it's really nice. He has good taste,” she replied, her serene smile still in place.

  It killed Kitty. How could Delaney be so cool all the time!? Kitty had seen the pictures. She'd come to the hotel early one morning and Jon had been in the shower. He'd left his laptop open. Some word document had been open, filled with what looked like notes about his accident and his life with amnesia, but that wasn't what interested Kitty.

  She'd gone immediately to the pictures folder, then to the subfolder labeled “Jayson. Private” and she'd opened it.

  Oh, it had been rough. Thank god Jon took long showers, because Kitty had broken down while looking at the photos. Sobbed as she saw her boyfriend more in love with some girl, some stranger, than he had ever been with her.

  How can she look at me? I hate her for loving him, and I get to sleep with him at night. Does she secretly want to murder me?

  “I know things have been awkward,” Kitty sighed, toying with a breadstick.

  “I think that's an understatement,” Delaney said, but she laughed, so Kitty laughed, too.

  “Yeah. Yeah, it is. I just ... I know how special Jon is to you. Jayson, whatever. And really, I'm happy you've found each other,” she insisted, babbling a little.

  She didn't really know what she was going to say, just knew she had to do something to keep Jon. Everyday, she could feel him slipping further and further away from her. She had put too much work into him to lose him now.

  “Thanks,” Delaney said slowly. “I'm glad, too. And I want you to know, Kitty, I'm genuinely happy for the two of you. I would never, ever try to come between you. The two of us ... that ended on those train tracks. I know that. He's your boyfriend. I just want him to be happy. That's all. Just ... happy.”

  She was smiling and she certainly sounded genuine, but there was a sadness behind her voice. It really did make Kitty feel bad, because she could imagine how Delaney had felt when she'd lost Jayson. They both loved the same man, the hurt would feel the same, she was sure. But she knew in the end, her hurt would be greater, because Delaney would have lost him and then got him back – after Kitty had fixed him. Kitty, however, would just lose him forever. And she couldn't handle that.

  “Can I be honest with you?” she asked, dropping the breadstick to the floor. Delaney glanced at it, then looked back at Kitty.

  “Of course. Please, always. I appreciate honesty,” she replied.

  “If you want Jon to be happy, then you should ...” Kitty took a deep breath. “You should leave him alone”

  The comment seemed to startle Delaney. She blinked rapidly a couple times, jerking back in her seat.

  “Leave him alone?”

  “Yes,” Kitty nodded. “It's hard for him, seeing you. He feels so guilty because ... because he just doesn't remember you. It kills him to think he hurt you, and now he can't even remember you.”

  “Really?” Delaney breathed, her face going even paler than usual. Kitty knew she was on the right track.

  “Yes. It's ripping him apart. He stresses about it, tries to remember. It gives him headaches, nightmares,” she explained, and that was the complete truth. “After you leave, every time, he's just so upset he can barely function. It's killing him.”

  Delaney's eyes welled up with tears, surprising Kitty a little.

  “I never wanted to hurt him,” she sniffled. “I just wanted ... I wanted to help him. Make him happy. And yeah, be near him. But never hurt him.”

  “Well, you are, Delaney. You're hurting him every time you go see him.”

  “I don't want that,” the other girl cried, wiping at her cheeks as the tears fell down.

  “He was happy before, you know. I have pictures, too. Folders full of them. We spent Christmas and New Year's together, he's practically a part of my family now. I mean, we're in love,” she said.

  Of course, Jon had never once said that to her. It drove her nuts. She'd said it the other night. She'd been desperate, willing to do anything to keep him. He hadn't said it back. He'd given her a very beautiful speech which had made her happy in the moment, but when she'd thought back on it, it had sounded a little like he'd been breaking up with her.

  And that cannot happen.

  “I just want him to be happy,” Delaney whispered.

  “Then let him be happy,” Kitty whispered back. “Let him live his life in the present. Stop trying to make him live in the past.”

  Delaney took a deep breath, then looked around, as if realizing where she was for the first time. She practically fell off her stool and her hands were shaking as she put her jacket back on.

  “I'm so sorry,” she breathed. “I had no idea. I'm just ... I'm so sorry. Tell Jay – Jon that I'm so incredibly sorry. I never ever meant to cause him any pain.”

  “Of course you didn't,” Kitty said, standing up as well and helping the other girl with the coat.

  “Tell him if he ever needs me, I'll always be there for him. And will you ... I'm sorry, but will you send him my love?” Delaney asked, staring up at her.

  Kitty stared right back. Into big eyes so full of love and hurt and heartbreak, she couldn't stand it. Her own eyes started to fill with tears.

  Not a chance in hell.

  “Of course,” she whispered.

  She was shocked when Delaney hugged her.

  “Take care of him. Make sure he's happy, okay?”

  “Of course.”

  And then she was leaving. Once a happy fairy, her shine now a little duller. Kitty felt a pang of regret. A wave of guilt. But an even bigger wall of resistance went up.

  I love him. I know I do. And I know he'll love me, too.

  15

  Jon felt like he was going crazy.

  It had been two weeks since the failed dirty-talking-sex. They hadn't tried again, though Kitty seemed more than willing and eager. While out at dinner one night, with her parents no less, she'd slid his hand up under her skirt, revealing the fact that she wasn't wearing any underwear. Once upon a time, that would've been sexy. Right now, though ... he'd just squeezed her thigh and winked at her, then put his hand back on top of the table.

  He almost never left the hotel room. He'd decided to take the journalist up on his idea to write a book, and the guy made himself available to Jon for any questions he had, and Jon had a lot. What kind of program to use, what he should he write, how he should start, did he need an agent, everything.

  Once he got started, though, he found it hard to stop. He would type late into the night. New York was the city that never slept, but sometimes he felt like he was the only person in the world who was awake. He would stare down at the street, at the random taxis crawling by, then he'd go back to typing. Only one thing was ruining his concentration. Was keeping him from finishing.

  Delaney.

  He hadn't spoken to her in over two weeks. It was like she'd disappeared again. She didn't respond to phone calls or texts or messages. He'd gone down to her work more than a couple times, on days when he knew she should be there, but she was always busy in the kitchen, or she'd called in sick.

  He was kicking himself for never getting her address.

  He didn't understand it. What had happened? They'd been meeting up about every other day, just talking and going through his journals, or the pictures. She would tell him stories Jayson had once told her about himself, filling in the little details of his life. Had it been too much for her? Was seeing him too difficult?

  Didn't matter. Even if it was, she owed him an explanation. He was the one who'd gotten left behind. He was the one who couldn't remember. She was his memory, and how dare she take that away.

  “Where the fuck is she!?”
he raged one day to Sloany. She held up her hands.

  “I don't know, Jon. She doesn't answer my messages, either.”

  “You could go down there, you know!”

  “Contrary to what you might think, my life does not revolve around you, Jon. I don't have time to be constantly running back and forth from Harlem to Midtown, searching for your ex-girlfriend!”

  Ex? But when did we break up? When were we together?

  “Sweetie, maybe you just need to let her go,” Kitty urged during another day when he'd been pouting.

  “Why should I? She's my only link to my past, Kitty,” he'd snapped. She'd started massaging him.

  “That's not true. You have your parents, and she gave you the numbers for some of your old friends.”

  Right. A pair of strangers he happened to share DNA with, and a bunch of people who hadn't been very excited to hear from him. They'd just wanted to know if he could help them score.

  “It's not fair,” he'd breathed. “I need her. I need her to remember for me. Without her it's like ... like I'm starting all over again.” At that statement, Kitty's hands had gone still.

  “You know, this has probably been hard for her, too, Jon. Seeing you again, still being in love with you, then seeing us together. You can't ask her to subject herself to that kind of pain. I mean, if I had to watch you with another woman, I'd want to die.”

  A very valid point, but still not good enough for Jon. No excuse was good enough, and he didn't know why. Couldn't understand why he felt like she shouldn't be allowed to walk away. After all, he technically didn't remember her, so she didn't owe him anything. He was nothing but pain and heartache for her.

  And yet still, even recognizing all that, he just could not accept her disappearing on him.

  We promised each other, and she's going back on it ... what did we promise?

  He finally went full blown crazy. He waited until it was late at night on a Tuesday. It was pouring down rain and it was cold, Times Square would be dead. He'd had dinner with Kitty's family earlier in the night. She'd tried to invite herself in, had been as provocative as she'd known how to be, but he hadn't taken the bait. The mood he was in, if they did have sex, he'd probably scare her for life. He wanted to hurt something.