Muscle Memory

by Stylo Fantome

  “Shut up,” he snarled, finally dropping into a seat.

  “Do you think you're in love with her?” Sloany asked, leaning towards him.

  “Maybe? Fuck, no. But I think I could be, some day,” he offered. She shook her head.

  “Just what every girl wants to here. 'I love you, Jon!', 'And I could be in love with you, too, some day,'” she mocked him.

  “Well, I'm not in love with Delaney,” he stated. Her eyebrows shot up.

  “Oh? Did you finally get into contact with her?”

  I've been in contact with every single inch of her.

  “Yeah, we made contact.”

  “And if you're not even sure if you could love Kitty, than how can you be so sure you don't love Delaney?” Mrs. Sloan asked.

  “How could I be in love with someone I don't know? As much as you'd all like to think I do, I really, really don't. Sometimes I forget her last name. I don't know what kind of music she likes, what her favorite food is, where she went to school. I didn't even remember the tattoo!” he exclaimed.

  Don't even remember my own words on her body. Don't remember promising her my heart and soul.

  “You're awfully passionate about someone you don't care about,” she pointed out. He groaned again and surged to his feet.

  “I never said I don't care about her,” he replied. “I just ... I can't explain it.”

  “Explain what?”

  “How I feel about her.”

  “Try,” Mrs. Sloan suggested.

  “It's like ... I don't know her, but I can feel her. Good god, Sloany, I can feel her. When I wake up, when I go to sleep. On top of me, around me, inside of me,” he explained, pressing his hands to his chest. “I don't know her, but she's in my blood and in my bones and in my body. I wake up reaching for her, but can't remember her ever being there. I turn around to look for her, then realize she was never with me. She's my ghost, she haunts me. I don't remember her, but I know her.”

  There was a long silence after that. Jon was breathing hard, staring directly at Sloany. She was staring back at him wide eyes. After a few moments, she finally licked her lips and leaned back in her seat.

  “Well,” she said in a thick voice. “Sounds to me like you can explain it pretty well.”

  He glared at her, then continued pacing.

  “Good sex is not love,” he informed her. “I could fuck dozens of girls and they could all probably blow my mind. That wouldn't mean I would love them.”

  “Who said anything about sex?” she asked.

  “That's what it is,” he stressed. “My muscles, my skin, they're remembering her. Not my brain, but my body. The way she moves and tastes, those sounds she makes, I recognized them all.”

  Another silence.

  “Recognized, huh? You're using the wrong tense if you're trying to hide something,” she told him. He refused to blush.

  “I'm not hiding anything.”

  “When did it happen?”

  He finally stopped walking and stared out a window.

  “About a week ago,” he said softly.

  “Does Kitty know?” she asked, with no judgement in her voice.

  “No, I haven't seen her yet. She's upstate, visiting a sick aunt. I'll tell her,” he promised.

  “Are you going to see Delaney again?” she broached the subject in a delicate voice.

  “I haven't seen her since then. I texted her once, and she messaged right back, but ...” he let his voice trail off.

  “But ... you don't know what you want, so you don't want to string her along,” Sloany filled in for him. He glanced over his shoulder and nodded.

  “Yeah. Am I going to hell?” he asked. She started laughing again.

  “Are you joking? Jon, I found out my ex-husband was going to sex clubs behind my back. You're caught between two women, and you've been very clear to both of them about not making any promises. You're not an angel, but you're doing pretty okay,” she assured him.

  “You were married, Sloany!? I feel like my whole life has been a lie. I can't ever be with you now,” he gasped, pressing his hand to his chest as he turned to face her.

  “Damn, I'm sooooo bummed,” she groaned, the sarcasm so thick he could cut it with a knife.

  “I didn't plan it, just so you know. I never put the moves on her,” he started up again on the subject. “I was always respectful. Polite. You saw me. I went to her restaurant just to ... talk to her, figure out what had happened. Why she stopped speaking to me.”

  “And did she ever say what happened?”

  “Something about Kitty talking to her, but she wouldn't say what. Anyway, she said something, I can't even remember what. I was just so angry, you know? Angry that here's this person my body clearly remembers, but I can't, but she can, and god, I was so fucking angry. She'd been walking with this guy from her work, he started touching her, and I ... I lost my shit. Like a wave of rage and jealousy, I wanted to tear him apart. After I scared him off, she and I started screaming at each other. I've never fought with anybody like that before,” he told her.

  “Doesn't sound like a good start. How did you end up in bed?” she asked. Good ol' Sloany, not shy about anything.

  “It was crazy. She was yelling, I was yelling, and it was like, snap! I kissed her like I was taking a breath. It all felt so ... natural. There wasn't one awkward moment. Like, usually with a first time with somebody, I'd assume it would be awkward. Figuring shit out, learning what each other likes, blah blah. Not this chick. I knew every spot to hit, every part to touch, what to say, how to move,” he said. She held up her hand.

  “I don't need the graphic details, thanks. I'll buy the porno when it comes out.”

  “Sorry,” he laughed. “I'm just trying to say, I didn't do it on purpose. I wasn't like 'let's cheat on Kitty, now!' or anything. It literally just ... happened. I just breathed her in.”

  “I'm shocked to be saying this, but you, Jon, are a romantic,” she informed him.

  “Me!?”

  “Yeah. I think she pulls it out of you.”

  “Well, I wish she'd stop.”

  “Really?”

  I don't want her to ever stop.

  He remained silent and she got the hint.

  “Sounds like this is a situation only you can get yourself out of,” she sighed. “So let's talk about something else. How's the book going?”

  He was still reeling from the phone call he'd had the other day. He'd sent the rough draft to the writer for the Times at the beginning of the week, and the guy had taken it around to a couple of friends in publishing. Everyone said it was good. Of course it needed a good editor, but that would be no problem. Bids were already coming in from publishing houses and the journalist had arranged for Jon to meet with an entertainment lawyer who specialized in literary law.

  “It's going to get published,” he said. She gasped.

  “No! Are you serious!? No!” she gushed. He smiled and nodded.

  “Yeah. A couple publishing places asked for it. I narrowed it down to two offers that I thought were pretty okay, and I'm gonna go over them with this lawyer,” he told her.

  The most shocking thing of all happened, then. Mrs. Sloan's eyes filled with tears.

  “Jon, I am so incredibly happy for you,” she breathed. “It could not have happened to a better person.”

  “Sloany, I'm a homeless drug addict who just cheated on his girlfriend with a woman he technically doesn't know.”

  She snapped her hand out and punched him in the stomach.

  “And an asshole, don't forget that.”

  *

  Two days later, Jon all but skipped down the street.

  He couldn't believe it. He'd officially been signed to a Big 5 publisher, and he had a very impressive advance coming to him. Best of all, he wouldn't need Sloany to take care of it for him – Delaney had found his wallet amongst her stuff. He was officially Jayson Fairbanks again, resident of New York state.

  Though he still went by Jon.
<
br />   He was at a loss for what to do with himself. He wanted to yell and skip and jump. He was a productive, contributing member of society! He had to celebrate. But where? How?

  Kitty was coming back that day, she'd be getting home in the afternoon. They were having dinner together later in evening. Just the thought of the conversation they were going to have dampened his spirits a little.

  He walked through Times Square, cheering up a little, smiling at the bustling plaza and all the busy tourists. He buried his hands in his coat pockets and whistled a tune as he strode along. Sloany was busy, he knew, and Gary Tupper and the guys at the Benson House were too far away – he didn't want to schlep out to Harlem so late in the afternoon, knowing he'd have to be back in time to meet Kitty.

  He was just happy to be alive, so he walked aimlessly for a while. Or so he thought. When he realized he was a couple blocks over from Penn Station, he knew exactly where his feet had been carrying him to.

  Delaney.

  She'd given him her address, “just in case” he ever needed her. It was written down on a piece of paper in his hotel room, he hadn't even realized he'd memorized it. He also knew she wasn't supposed to be at work that day. He argued with himself for a moment. He didn't want to give her – or him – any false hope. He didn't want to hurt Kitty anymore than he already had, either.

  But I also have to tell someone this news.

  Next thing he knew, he was slipping through the security door of Delaney's building as another tenant left. He hurried up the steps and knocked on the door to her apartment.

  “I'm getting it!” a voice screeched as the door fell open. Then an angry looking girl with long brown hair was staring up at him. “Can I help you!?”

  “Uh, does Delaney ... Carter live here?” he asked, glancing over her head.

  “Who?” she asked, scrunching up her noise.

  “Del!” barked a voice from inside. “Jesus, let him in!”

  The door fell all the way open he and stepped into the apartment. There was a large, comfortable looking sofa facing a ridiculously huge television. A couple sat together on the couch, aggressively making out, completely oblivious to the guest in their home.

  The girl who'd opened the door for him walked into the kitchen, slamming around pots and pans. She occasionally glared back into the living room at a young man who was sitting in a reclining chair next to the sofa. He was putting a jigsaw puzzle together and he glanced up at Jon.

  “Her door is right there,” he commented, pointing across the room.

  Jon smiled his thanks and walked over and tapped on the wood.

  “Please,” her muffled voice came from inside, and he listened as she shuffled around the room. “I told you, I don't want to be bothered. I don't -” Her jaw dropped when she opened the door and saw him standing there. “Jon! What are you doing here?”

  “I wanted to tell you something. Are you okay?” he asked, suddenly concerned. Her nose was red, and her lips and eyes were puffy. “Are you sick?”

  She blinked up at him for a second, then opened her door wide and gestured for him to come into the room. The space was very neat and tidy, except for a couple balled up tissues around the head of the bed.

  “Uh, yeah. I think it was from being in the rain. Stupid cold,” she said, hurrying around him and grabbing the tissues, throwing them all in a tiny trash can.

  “I'm sorry. I feel like it's my fault,” he said. She waved her hand at him, then pulled out her desk chair.

  “What? That's stupid. I was walking in the rain for a while before you showed up. Please, sit down. What's up?” she asked, leaving him the chair and sitting cross-legged on her bed.

  Jon looked at the chair and desk. The space was very orderly, with a neat stack of papers on one end. Behind it, there was a subway map of New York City taped to the wall. There were dozens of pins in it, and a piece of notebook paper was also taped up. He leaned closer to it and saw the names of hospitals, most with check marks next to them.

  “You really did look everywhere,” he breathed, his gaze wandering over the dozens of pins.

  I wasn't alone. She was always there. Always looking for me. Caring about me. I was never alone.

  “I did,” she sighed, then he heard her pat the desk chair. “C'mon, sit down, take a load off.”

  Jay turned and glanced between her and the chair, then sat down on the edge of the bed.

  “I have some big news, and I ... I wanted to share it with someone. I was walking around and realized I'd come here. I hope you don't mind,” he said.

  “Mind? Of course not. I told you, anytime. What's the news?” she asked.

  “That book I wrote? About the accident and my amnesia? It's getting published,” he said.

  She let out a scream, scaring him, then she lunged forward and hugged him. They almost fell off the bed, but he managed to keep them upright.

  “I knew it!” she laughed in his ear. “I knew you could it! I am so happy for you, Jon!”

  “Maybe wait till you read it,” he chuckled after she'd pulled away. “You're in it, you know.”

  “I don't care what you wrote about me,” she waved him away. “You're doing what you always dreamed of doing. That's all I care about.”

  “You are an amazing woman, Delaney,” he said with a smile. She grinned back at him.

  “Damn straight I am. What did Kitty say?”

  He paused for a moment, then nervously yanked at his shirt collar.

  “I, uh, haven't told her. Yet. She's been out of town. I'll see her tonight, though,” he said, feeling awkward as fuck.

  “Well, I'm sure she'll be even twice as happy as I am,” Delaney said.

  Sometimes, just sometimes, he wished she wasn't so pragmatic.

  “Yeah, maybe. Look, I didn't mean to barge in, I don't want to bother you while you're sick. I just wanted to tell you the news, and, uh ... see how you were,” he stammered. Her grin dimmed into a smile, but it was still just as beautiful.

  “Same ol' me,” she told him. He frowned.

  “I didn't ... do I need to apologize for anything?” he asked, suddenly nervous. She blushed high on her cheeks, but didn't look away from him. Didn't lose her smile.

  “I hope not. Have you done something bad?” she teased, finally getting a smile out of him, as well. He rose to his feet.

  “Thank you, Delaney.”

  “For what?” she asked, standing up as well.

  “For being a great friend. An amazing friend,” he corrected himself. Her smile faltered for a moment, but then she cleared her throat and it was back.

  “I do try,” she said, then her eyes wandered down to his chest. “Look at you! In a suit! I could never, ever have imagined you in a suit.”

  “You like it?” he asked, holding his overcoat open wide. “I wanted to look professional, I met with a bunch of people today for the book deal.”

  “I love it,” she assured him, reaching out and smoothing her hand down his tie. “You look incredible.”

  “I feel incredible. Look, things are gonna be crazy this next week, but ... can I call you?” he asked.

  “You'd better. I gotta get in my time with you now, before you're all big and famous,” she laughed. He chuckled as well, then leaned down and hugged her. She wrapped her arms around him and squeezed him back.

  It was purely platonic for a moment. Just two friends, hugging each other. When he pulled away, though, something stopped him. He had his cheek pressed to her temple, his hands on her hips, and he froze. She had her palms flat on his back and her nose against his collar bone, and she froze, as well.

  That ol' sledgehammer, it got him every time. He felt like he couldn't breathe as snap shots began flipping through his brain.

  Delaney in the gold sweater and black panties, from the photos she'd given him. But this was real life. She was biting her lip, then whispering his name. Crawling over and twisting around on him, begging him to touch her. He knew he'd eventually ripped those black panties off her
and had used them to tie her wrists to a sink pipe. Then he'd done anything he'd wanted to her.

  He caught his breath again and stepped back. She was staring up at him, her eyes full of concern.

  “Are you okay?” she asked, smoothing her fingertips across his forehead. It was too intense, too soon. He jerked back, stumbling into her door.

  “Yeah, yeah, fine,” he murmured, fumbling with the doorknob. “I just ... remembered something I forgot. I gotta go. I'll call you, okay?”

  “Okay. Take care, Jon,” she said in a soft voice. He gave her a tight smile, then all but leapt out the door.

  He jogged a couple blocks away before stopping and resting. He leaned back against a wall and stared up at the sky.

  What the fuck had that been? A memory. It couldn't be. He never remembered anything, except smoking, which he didn't even do anymore. Why would he now suddenly remember something? And so randomly?

  If he was going to remember something like having sex with Delaney, wouldn't he have remembered when he'd been actively fucking her? Why on earth would something as simple as a smile and a hug trigger it?

  It was a fantasy. It was those pictures. There were several of them from that evening, her in the gold top, with those red lips. They'd stuck in his mind, for obvious reasons, and now his brain had turned them into a flip book. It borrowed actual memories from their night together earlier in the week and spliced in the photos. That was it. No big deal.

  Yeah, no big deal at all. This raging hard on means absolutely nothing.

  17

  “You seem distracted.”

  Jon snapped to attention and looked at Kitty.

  “Hmmm? Oh, sorry. It's just ... it was a big day to day,” he gave her an excuse, and she smiled at him.

  “It was. I'm so proud of you. I wonder if they'll send you on a book tour? I'll have to buy a new wardrobe,” she sighed dreamily, and she snuggled closer to him.

  She'd come over earlier and he'd told her about his book deal. After much squealing and excitement and talking over him, she'd ordered up some champagne to celebrate. They were now sitting on the sofa in his room. Correction, his hotel suite. He would be leaving it soon, he was sure. The advance had been plenty big enough to get him his own apartment, he just had to decide where. Back in Harlem? Stay in Midtown? Check out the Flower District?