by S. J. Bishop
“Gotta go,” I said. “I’ll grab Lucy, and we’ll head to your house for dinner.”
“Okay, see you later.”
I put the car into drive and circled back toward the arrival gates. I hoped that seeing Lucy might jog some memories. As I drove up, I scanned the curb, spotting a small, dark-haired woman scanning the cars. I pulled over to her.
“Oh, thank god,” said Lucy, throwing the door of my car open and throwing herself into the passenger seat. She reached across the seat and enveloped me in a hard-armed hug. “You’re okay. You don’t look half dead!” She smelled like cigarettes and verbena. An interesting combination and one that triggered a few more vague memories: Lucy and I outside the gym by the bleachers. Lucy and I sitting beneath the stairwell eating lunch.
Outcast. Lucy had been a bit of an outcast in high school. And she’d been my best friend. Had I been an outcast?
“I’m okay,” I said, and she released me. “The headaches are really mild now, and I’m getting a bit more of my memory back every day.”
“I can’t believe it,” said Lucy. “I can’t believe that happened to you. Well, don’t worry. My whole suitcase is full of books and photos and mementos…”
I nodded, eager to go through all of them. “I can’t tell you how much it means to me that you were willing to take time off work and fly over here…”
“My pleasure,” said Lucy, reaching over and gripping my hand.
To be honest, I’d thought I’d hyperbolized Lucy in my vague memories of her. In my memories, Lucy was loud and slightly abrasive, with hair too dark to be natural and clothing too bold to be fashionable. But I hadn’t exaggerated her at all. The Lucy in my car was the same Lucy from the photos in my apartment, the same Lucy I’d caught glimpses of in my memories. Her hair was so black that it had to be hair dye, and while it was straight, it had a coarseness to it that suggested it might naturally be curly. Her eyebrows were over-plucked and too black. Her eyeliner was a bit too heavy and her lips a bit too dark. She wore jeans, new High Tops, and a black V-neck shirt that would have been appropriate had she not been wearing a push-up bra.
“I hope you don’t mind,” I said as we pulled out of the airport and onto the highway. “I usually do dinner at my friend Casey and James’ house. They want to meet you! And Casey’s been helping me put some of my memories in order, so she wants to help…”
“Oh,” said Lucy, taking her hand off of mine and examining her fingernails. “That’s nice of her.”
But it didn’t sound as if Lucy thought that was nice. I shot her a brief look to see that she was pursing her lips in distaste. “To be honest,” she said after a moment, “I’ve had a long day. I’m not in the mood to meet new people or be polite or anything like that, you know?”
“I get it,” I said. Damn! I’d been looking forward to seeing Casey. I got to see James whenever I went into the office, but Casey worked as a school teacher, and I only got to see her when I went over there.
“Okay, what a relief!” said Lucy. “So, what do you want to do for dinner then?”
“There’s a great burger place near my house…”
“Ah…of course you wouldn’t remember,” said Lucy, patting my hand. “I’m vegetarian.”
“Oh!” I didn’t remember that at all. “Ah…there’s a pizza place.”
“And I’m lactose intolerant.”
“They have salads there,” I said. “Or do you have any suggestions?”
“I’ll google it when we get to your place,” Lucy said. “In the meantime, I hope you’re going to fill me in on how you and Ted Schneider ended up back in each other’s lives!”
I nodded, eager to tell Lucy the story and get her to fill in some of the blanks.
22
Ted
“I just don’t like the way she’s constantly throwing herself at you.” Erin sat in the front seat of my Honda with her arms crossed over her chest.
“I just don’t like having these conversations over and over again,” I snapped.
“You know what?” said Erin, turning to glare at me. “We wouldn’t have to have these conversations if you didn’t go out of your goddamn way to make other women look at you!”
“I do not go…”
“Oh, really? So you’re saying that after you scored that touchdown, you didn’t do that slow motion jog past the cheerleader pyramid so that they could get a good, long look at you and cheer you on?”
“They’re cheerleaders,” I growled. “They’re supposed to cheer.”
“You’re such a bull-shitter. You love the attention. And okay, I get it: you work hard; it’s nice to be recognized. But why do you need their attention? Why do you need their admiration? Isn’t mine enough?”
“Well, what if it isn’t!?” I demanded hotly.
Erin went silent next to me, but I didn’t care. I hated this conversation. Okay, so I liked attention, and Erin wasn’t always around to give it to me. So what if I ran past the cheerleaders on my way back to the huddle? It wasn’t like I was sleeping with them!
“Don’t you understand?” said Erin. She was quiet, but I didn’t feel like glancing over at her. “It means I’m not enough for you.”
I gripped the steering wheel in frustration. “Goddamn it. What do you want from me!?”
This wasn’t about the cheerleaders. This was about the other night, when we’d been parked over at the quarry. She’d told me she loved me, and I hadn’t said it back.
“Maybe I want something you can’t give me,” she said quietly.
Cold fear gripped my gut. No. She wasn’t going to break up with me. There was no way she was going to break up with me.
And what would I do if she did?
“You okay, dawg?” asked Vic. “You looked like you were zoning out there.”
“Just thinking about your mom,” I said.
“Can I recommend you get your head out of your ass before Coach tears it wide open?” said Vic, pointing at the where the offensive coordinator was trying to gather the team. Shit.
Don’t let her distract you. Keep your head in the game. As if I could. Erin was with Lucy Sharpe right now. Erin was looking at old yearbooks and reliving all those memories I’d tried so hard to forget, myself.
23
Erin
“That’s quite a story,” said Lucy slowly. “I don’t know what to say. Good for you?”
We were sitting in my living room and drinking Sam Adams. Lucy’s suitcase was open in front of us, revealing dozens of high school mementos that we hadn’t yet had time to delve into.
“What do you mean, good for me?” I demanded. “It doesn’t sound like you mean it.”
Lucy pressed her lips together and shrugged.
“Come on,” I prodded. “Tell me. I don’t remember anything about high school, just what Ted tells me…”
“And it doesn’t sound like he’s told you much,” muttered Lucy.
Well, she wasn’t wrong.
“Apparently, our breakup took him by surprise. He actually got testy when I asked him about it. So I can’t figure out why I would have broken up with him. I must have said something to you at the time…”
“Do we have to talk about Ted?” asked Lucy, all but snapping at me. “I mean, seriously. I show up, and it’s ‘let’s go to my other friend’s house’ and ‘let me tell you about my new old boyfriend!’”
“I’m sorry,” I said, confused. I’d thought she might like Casey, and hadn’t she asked me about Ted?
After a moment of staring at the carpet, Lucy was the one who looked apologetic. “No,” she said. “I’m sorry. I know you don’t remember these things. It was just hard enough to talk about it then, let alone rehash the whole thing now.”
The way she was speaking was making me nervous.
“I’m sorry to bring things up that might be awkward,” I said, slowly and carefully. “But I feel like it would really help for me to know what happened.”
Lucy sighed dramatically and plopped down on the couch
. Unzipping her suitcase, she put four yearbooks on the table and opened them up, flipping to specific pages she seemed to have memorized. “Here,” she said, handing the yearbook to me. “And here.”
I looked. The page she’d flipped to was one of those compilation pages, where the yearbook photographer follows around the pretty people and splashes them across the pages in a faux collage. Ted was in a lot of the pictures. Though he was young and didn’t possess nearly the impressive musculature he did now, he was still beautiful. He had that same sarcastic smile, those same beautifully sculpted features.
There were women with him in every picture. In the sophomore year pictures, it was the same woman: a tall, lithe blond with legs for days and a mega-watt smile.
“I always thought it was weird, you and Teddie Schneider dating,” said Lucy quietly. “Ted was all about his social life and playing football. You were always really involved in your school work and your extra-curricular activities, like your writing, or the literary magazine, or band…”
“I was in the band?”
“Until sophomore year,” said Lucy. Right. The flute.
“I wasn’t there when he asked you out, but the cheerleaders were talking about it during gym class. They said he did it to make Michelle Kelly jealous.”
Yes. Ted had told me that. Lucy paused, but I didn’t respond, so she continued. “You didn’t really care about boys until Ted. Then you went all boy-crazy. All you would talk about was him. You used to not care what anyone thought about you, but around Ted, you become super self-conscious. You were in love with him after the first month, and he dated you for ten months and never told you that he loved you.”
She hesitated, but I waited patiently. “We hung out, just the three of us, a few times. I wasn’t comfortable around him. You had vowed not to sleep with anyone until college, and Ted was always trying to get you to sleep with him. I thought he might be trying to date you only long enough to sleep with you.”
I blinked. Ted had told me that we hadn’t slept together, but he hadn’t made it seem like a big deal.
“What made you think that?”
“Because after about six months of dating you…” Lucy trailed off, took a deep breath, and picked up the story again. “It was well known that I was, ah, sexually active at the time,” said Lucy, shrugging. “And whenever we hung out, the three of us, Ted would make innuendos, or – like – touch my shoulder. Nothing too forward, but enough to make me uncomfortable…one night.”
She paused. What!? One night what?
“One night, there was a party at Aaron Klepper’s house. You weren’t going to go because you were working that night. But I went. Ted was there, and he was flirting with Michelle Kelly. But when he saw me…”
She got quiet, her eyes fixed on the table and her lips pressed into a thin line. My stomach dropped into my toes. “Lucy,” I urged. “What happened?”
“He cornered me in the hall,” said Lucy, her voice steady. “Put his hand right here.” She touched the place where her neck and collarbone met. “And he held me against the wall. He was drunk. He called me a cock-tease, forced his tongue down my throat, and…” She shuddered. “I kneed him in the nuts and got the hell out of that party. I told you about it a week later. I should have told you earlier, but I was ashamed – like it was somehow my fault.” She looked down at her cleavage ruefully.
She looked back up at me. I felt sick.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “You were so upset, and I felt so terrible…”
“Of course it wasn’t your fault,” I said quickly, rushing to sit on the couch beside her. I didn’t have the memory, but the discussion seemed familiar. I could see Aaron Klepper’s face. And then suddenly, I had an image of Ted by the lockers, staring down at me with disbelief.
“That’s why I broke up with him,” I said.
“I begged you not to tell him I told you,” said Lucy. “I was so embarrassed. And he was drunk. I knew he’d deny it. Or lie to save face.”
I shook my head. I knew it. I didn’t have the memory, but I had that uneasy, sinking feeling. It had broken my heart, hadn’t it? That’s why when I saw of our photos, or Ted said something that triggered a memory, I felt that strange heartache sensation. I’d been head over heels in love with Ted Schneider, and he’d tried to sleep with my best friend.
“Wow,” I said.
Lucy shook her head. “And now I’ve ruined it for you again.”
“No!” I said, reaching out to touch her knee. “This is not your fault! This has nothing to do with you.”
Lucy shrugged.
“Let’s forget the whole Ted thing,” I said. “You’re not here to talk about him anyway. We’re here to reconnect.”
“And to get your memories back,” Lucy finished with a weak smile.
“But first,” I said. “Food.”
24
Ted
I stared at the fourth unanswered text message. Breathe, dude. She’s probably busy. I don’t know why I was so anxious.
Because you know she’s with Lucy.
And knowing she was with Lucy had kept me on edge all day. I needed a distraction.
“Yo, Mac,” I called as the tight end passed by me on his way out the door. Ryan McLaughlin was one of the few guys on the team who wasn’t totally wifey’d up. Or rather, he was, but his girlfriend lived in Florida during the year so when we were in season, he was usually free in the evening.
“’Sup,” said Mac, taking his headphones out of his ears and turning to face me. “Care to grab some dinner?” I asked.
Mac stared at me a moment before grinning. “Ted ‘Lone Wolf’ Schneider wants some company. And somewhere, pigs are flying.”
“If you’re gonna make a big deal out of it…”
“Nah, bro. I could always eat,” said Ryan. “Did you have any place in mind?”
We met up at the sushi place in Chinatown about an hour later. Sitting in the upstairs dining area, putting back dragon rolls and Japanese beer, Ryan and I talked about football for a while before Ryan cracked his knuckles, sat back, and said: “It’s clearly about a girl, bro. So why don’t you tell me about it?”
“I have nothing to tell,” I said honestly.
“Sure you do. You’re usually good with your own company, but you weren’t in the mood for it tonight. Meaning something’s upset you. So what is it?”
I drummed my knuckles on the table. We were so not talking about my ‘girl’ problems.
“I have a guess,” said Mac.
“Oh, do you?” I matched his tone for casualness.
“Oh, I got lots of theories about you, Schneider. But this current one has to do with that Sleeping Beauty girl. I think you guys are still hanging out. Every once and a while, someone catches a photo of you together, and it makes it onto Barstool.com.”
I shrugged.
“And shit must be going bad between you two because you’ve been more of a dick than usual. Prickly as fuck. Now, we’re not close, bro, but I used to be you, so I can read the between the lines. You’re jonesing after this girl hard, and it’s putting you off your game.”
I stared at Ryan. What was he, a fucking psychic?
“The real question is,” Ryan continued, “why are you acting like a junkie who can’t get a fix? Chick not returning your calls?”
Oh, fuck this guy.
“You want to tell me how you know her, at least?”
I shrugged. I was really fucking uncomfortable. I’m not used to someone reading me like a book. I like to think I’m a bit harder to read. “She’s a girl from home.”
“And you used to date.”
“We did.”
“And you broke up with her and regretted it.”
“No,” I said. “She broke up with me.”
Ryan sucked in air between his teeth. “Oooh…shit, man. And you’re willing to give her a second chance.”
I rolled my eyes.
“No? Is this a revenge thing then?”
“I
t wasn’t supposed to be anything,” I said, shrugging. “It was a shock to see her lying half-dead in a hospital bed nine years and two thousand miles from where I’d last seen her. And I felt guilty when the media made a thing about it, so I took her out. But I liked her in high school, and I still fucking like her. I like her a lot.”
“But you don’t love her?”
“I don’t understand how people throw that word around like it means something,” I said. “I like her. I think that’s more important. I think most people are fucking worthless. But I like Erin.”
“So she’s not worthless?”
“No. She’s smart, and honest, and fucking sensible…”
“Sounds boring.”
“Trust me,” I said. “She’s not boring.” I had the sudden vivid image of Erin straddling me, pinning my hands to the bed as she ground her hips into mine. Mac must have followed the trail of my thoughts because he grinned. “Oh, hell yah,” he said. “Tiger in the sack? You’ll have to introduce me.”
But then Ryan stopped smiling and leaned forward. “So, what’s the problem, then?”
I shook my head. “There’s a history between us, alright? But she’s forgotten it all. And the past is in the past, but it shouldn’t matter.”
“And yet it does.”
“It does to her. Not to me.”
“You’re speaking in vague terms, son. I can’t figure out what the problem might be.”
I sighed. “We don’t have a good history. We don’t have a history I want to rehash. I want to forget that history ever happened. I want to be able to start over…” I’d never spoken to anyone like this before, and I didn’t seem to be able to stop myself.
“And you’re worried she’ll get her memory back – remember why she broke up with you in the first place?”
“That about sums it up.”
Ryan shrugged and popped the last piece of sushi in his mouth “Sounds like you have a real problem,” he said, his cheek puffing out as he chewed. “I have a solution.”
