I Hate You, Love Me

by Jamie Knight

  It’s going to be like being introduced to strangers for the first time, except that they’re not really strangers. This condition I have still weirds me out.

  Charles and I finished watching golf on TV in the man cave and then head out. We blaze down the road in his Aston Martin and he plays some music for me.

  “You recognize this one?” he asks.

  It’s a rock tune. It starts off with a chiming guitar.

  “Oh, that’s What’s My Age Again?” I say, half-wondering if the answer is correct. “Blink 182, right?”

  “Yep!” he affirms. “It’s a classic.”

  He starts it over again and then we both sing along with it. The crunching guitars kick in and soon we’re screaming along with the singer. I’m sure if anyone was to look at us from another car, they’d think we’re absolutely bonkers.

  The lyrics give me an odd sense of melancholy. I get a flash of memory and I’m back in high school, enjoying some crazy fun times. And then I’m with a girl in a dark room in a barn. It feels like Halloween time. It seems like it was magical in some way, but I just can’t quite remember what happened or who the girl was.

  Damn, I was so close to remembering something that seemed interesting. But just like that, it faded away again.

  After the song is done, he cues another one up. It has rolling bass and a tight kick drum. Someone with a nasally voice is sorta singing, sorta rapping the lyrics.

  “It’s Nookie by Limp Biskit!” I say excitedly.

  He cranks it up again. It feels good to know the songs and really get into it. And in another strange flash that crosses my mind, I picture Charles and myself as kids in high school, throwing around a football outside on the lawn.

  An iPod is connected to a portable speaker. It’s summer and it’s hot-hot-hot. We have our shirts off, something only young teenage boys could get away with and not earn snickers behind their backs.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I see a young redheaded girl walk by. It’s Cassie! She looks so bright, young and beautiful.

  She still looks like that now. But in my memory, it’s hot and young Cassie is wearing denim shorts. Her legs look so good, so long and tan, that I can’t stop staring. And then, Charles hits me with the football.

  I stifle a laugh at the memory. It was an accident and he didn’t really hurt me —but a football to the face is a pretty vivid recollection.

  Finally, things are coming back to me. I feel elated, and ready to have a fun night out with Charles, even though I now know he threw the football at my face long ago.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Devon

  At the end of the song we’re listening to, Charles waves his hand in front of my face.

  “You still there, buddy?” he asks.

  “Yeah,” I respond. “I think I just remembered some things.”

  “Doc said playing familiar music might help,” Charles says.

  He grins at me. I’m so glad I have him, to listen to and implement what the doctor had told him would help me.

  “Apparently we associate time and place with song,” he continues. “It all seems metaphysical and way out of my knowledge base, but I’ll take the word of the experts on this one. So, something clicked?”

  “We were in the old neighborhood, playing catch with a football,” I say. “And Cassie walked by!”

  Charles’ mood changes.

  “Oh, well that’s cool. A good sign.”

  Something definitely must be up with Cassie. I’m more sure of it than ever.

  Why is she in my memories so often? Did we mean something to each other back then? If that’s true, they why doesn’t someone just say that? Instead, no one, including Charles, seems to want to talk about it. It all seems so confusing.

  I decide to try hard to forget about it, and just have fun. I still remember the good feeling of wanting to celebrate some of my memories coming back, that I had just a moment ago.

  We go to one of those sports bars where the waitresses wear schoolgirl costumes. They’re all so cute and young and bouncy. But all I can think about is Cassie. She has nice curves – I would go so far as to say that she has perfect curves – and her breasts are just so firm looking.

  Then I have to stop myself again. Why is she constantly popping into my head?

  The restaurant sure knew what it was doing when it designed these uniforms, making the skirts just long enough to cover the creases of the waitresses’ butt cheeks. I wonder for a moment what Cassie would look like wearing one of those uniforms. And again, I have to snap myself out of it.

  So, I shift my focus back to the waitresses who actually work here, not the girl who populates my fantasies. I have to imagine they make good tips here just for being perky.

  I wonder if some might make even more if they get a little bitchy and cop an attitude. Some fellas seem to like that. Must feel like a challenge to them. In fact, I might be one of those guys who are into that. Seems like it might present some issues in the long-term, but I guess you’d never get bored with a feisty girl. Maybe that’s why I like Cassie so much.

  Fuck. There she is, popping into my mind again. But in the present, this time – not even a past memory. Knock it off, stupid brain.

  Charles waves to a group of three guys sitting at a round high-top table in the bar area. One of them waves back. We walk through a crowd of people waiting for tables in the restaurant seating area.

  “Devon, this is Matt, Jimmy and Alex,” Charles says.

  He’s basically reintroducing me to people I’ve supposedly been friends with since we were just kids. It’s still kinda weird, being this lost amongst supposed associations.

  “Hey,” I meekly say.

  They look at me like I’m a bit pathetic. As if I am the last kid picked for dodgeball. Then Jimmy raises his hand for a waitress to come by.

  “Take a seat, guys,” he says. “Next round is on me. What will ya take?”

  “Local IPA,” I say.

  “Same,” Charles concurs.

  The waitress stops by. She must be our regular gal as she notices me straight away.

  “Oh hey, Devon!” she says. “Haven’t seen you in a while.”

  It’s a bit awkward, but I manage to smile. I don’t know her name. I remember I have amnesia. Which is a weird thing to remember, if you think about it.

  “Good to be back,” I respond.

  Shit, they wear nametags, but right above their boobs! I want to be polite and call her by name, but I definitely don’t want to get caught staring.

  I manage to sneak a look at her name tag when she turns to call back to a table that is trying to get her attention. Her name is Madison.

  “Be right there!” she says to the group of rowdy men.

  She then turns back to me. “Nice to see you.”

  “Nice to see you too, Madison,” I reply.

  “Can I get you two something?” she asks.

  “Two local IPAs,” Jimmy says. “And please put it on my tab. And another round of Bud Lights. Also, on me.”

  Madison types the order into her tablet and smiles.

  “Be right back, boys,” she says and then turns away to talk to the other table.

  “You’re feeling mighty generous,” Alex says, with a slight southern drawl.

  “Hey, what can I say? I feel like celebrating. The Five Horsemen ride again!” Jimmy proclaims.

  The Five Horseman. It seems as if we’re a crew — a gang of rabble-rousers. I guess that’s true, since we do seem to have a history. Hopefully they’ll fill me in on some of it and help me get some memories back.

  Damn. It’s like piecing a jigsaw puzzle back together.

  They do take the time to reintroduce themselves to me. Matt is a junior partner at a law firm, Jimmy is in residency at a hospital, and Alex co-owns a craft brewery.

  And Charles is a dean at a local college, but I already knew that, because apparently, I went to school there. I have to keep reminding myself I’m an investment banker.

&
nbsp; Will I ever be able to go back to work, or am I going to be reliant on other people forever? Maybe this crew will inspire me. The Five Horseman will ride to victory once again, and this time I’ll remember it.

  “So, Devon,” Matt says, “is anything coming back to you at all?”

  “Little bits here and there,” I say.

  “Do you remember diving off that cliff?” Matt asks.

  I shake my head.

  “Were you all there?” I ask inquisitively.

  “I was,” Matt says. “You showed no fear and jumped right off. It was scary seeing you unconscious below. If it wasn’t for Charles…”

  “He would have done the same for me,” Charles says, with a shrug.

  I want to ask more questions, but something stops me. The day of the accident kind of scares me. It was a day that changed my life. And I’m not sure if it’s in a good way.

  I probably shouldn’t think about it right now. I don’t want anything to bring me down.

  The conversation moves on. We talk about our favorite teams and their chances.

  Apparently, I’m a huge baseball fan. Los Angeles Dodgers. My favorite player is Clayton Kershaw. That’s news to me.

  I’ll have to catch up on all the latest games and scores. Maybe it will help unlock some more things about myself. Charles and the doctors were right – as I find out these things about myself naturally, I feel more confident about learning more, and I think it somehow helps jog my memory.

  After a while, Charles and I go to play a round of pool while the other fellas are busy chatting up some girls.

  Charles has a sly way about him, I’m learning.

  He says, “I know you must be as curious as I am about where Cassie goes all the time.”

  I nod as I line up the cue ball. “Sure.”

  “I’m not exactly worried, but I feel she’s hiding something.”

  He scratches his chin and leans on his pool cue after he says this.

  “She hasn’t confided in Amanda?” I ask.

  “No, but Mandy trusts her completely,” he says. “So, I don’t get very far when I try to bring it up to her. I feel weird, letting her stay at our house when she constantly runs out and leaves her daughter there. But… well, you may not remember, but one never goes against Mandy without victory already assured.”

  “I kind of surmised that,” I admit, as diplomatically as possible.

  “I think we should follow her next time,” he suggests. “If we get caught, we’re just boys having a bit of fun. Playing a prank on her or something. If we don’t, then we’ll know where she goes and maybe I’ll be able to nudge Amanda into nudging her… well, out.”

  I look at him, and he interprets it as cynical, but I’m just hearing him out and waiting for him to continue.

  “It’s not that I hate Cassie or anything,” Charles explains, a little defensively. “I don’t mind helping her out. But I’m beginning to feel like I want to know what she’s up to and whether she’s using our gracious hosting against us. I don’t want her there if it’s anything shady.”

  “That makes sense. Yeah, let’s do it,” I agree, with a shrug.

  I’m trying to seem nonchalant. But inwardly, I’m curious as hell to find out where she goes and what she’s been doing. I also think such an expedition might help me regain some memories and snap out of my doldrums.

  “I think everything’s fine. She’s probably just, I don’t know, getting that business she talks about up and running, or taking some classes or something. Maybe she feels embarrassed about needing further education or something. I’m sure there’s some easy explanation like that. But in the unlikely event she’s up to something,” Charles concludes, “then I’ll have something to tell Amanda.”

  We clink beers on it.

  We have a spirited game, rejoin the other guys, and enjoy the rest of the evening drinking beer, eating buffalo wings, and talking sports. All in all, it’s great fun.

  It’s the most normal I’ve felt in a while. And my doldrums are held at bay for a few hours, which is a very good thing.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Devon

  Cassie has been acting strange all morning. She woke me up when she was knocking about in the kitchen. She keeps answering her phone and writing things down on a pad of paper.

  Her conversations seem hectic and rushed. There must something going on. I just don’t know why there is so much secrecy involved.

  I get up and put on some clothes and my Adidas running shoes. I head downstairs to grab a cup of coffee and fix up some maple and brown sugar oatmeal.

  Cassie is at the kitchen counter with her laptop open. She has a determined look on her face and is busy typing away.

  “Good morning,” I say. “Getting an early start?”

  “Huh? Oh, yes,” she says, in a way that seems mildly annoyed by my intrusion. “So much to do. By the way, Amanda is going to watch Alice. I have to go out soon.”

  She continues to type, pauses, takes a deep breath, then types some more. After another minute, she closes her laptop and gathers her things.

  Charles is already in his home office, up and ready for the day. I step in and stand in the doorway sipping my coffee.

  “’Operation: What the Hell Is Going On?’ appears to be a go,” I announce.

  Charles shuts his computer down and collect his keys and wallets.

  “Affirmative,” he confirms.

  I laugh a little at this response.

  “Are you a robot? Or is that covert spy talk?” I ask.

  “Hey, that’s a good idea for a movie: A robot covert spy sent into action!” he says, with childish glee. “Or maybe it could be a childrens’ TV show, which is a much better idea.”

  “Well, okay,” I say.

  “Hey, don’t laugh,” he says. “Kids’ TV shows make so much money. There’s that one called PJ Masks, where the kids become super heroes at night when they put on their pajamas. It’s such a ridiculously simple idea that it makes you wonder how no one could ever have thought it up before. No wonder it makes bank. They have the licensing rights to crank out a bunch of toys and clothes and collectible items.”

  “Yeah, and then there’s that show called Paw Patrol where the dogs are like police officers and fire marshals and garbage truck drivers.”

  “It’s a truck for recyclables,” Charles jumps in to correct me. “But yeah, I know the one. And then there’s the dog who digs and drives the dump truck or whatever.”

  “Yep, see? Genius. You’re right. Because then they start these new spin off franchises like Sea Patrol and Mission Patrol or whatever, just to have an excuse to make a new toy dog to fit that show – like wearing a jungle backpack or in a ship or whatever – and the kids say, ‘Mommy, Mommy, I need Marshall!’ And when Mommy says, ‘You already have a Marshal,’ the kid goes, ‘No, that’s just regular Paw Patrol Marshall. I need Ultimate Adventure Explorer Marshal! Or I need Marshall with the snorkel and goggles, from Sea Patrol.’”

  “Oh, my God, you sound just like Amanda,” Charles says.

  “I know. That’s the only way either of us know about any of this kids’ stuff,” I laugh.

  “Because we have to watch her all the damn time,” Charles agrees, with a sigh. “And that’s the whole point of this operation. To figure out why, and how to stop it. Not that I don’t like Amanda. Or Marshall. Or PJ Masks. Especially when it gives me ideas for making kids’ shows of my own, and getting filthy rich.”

  He’s already pretty fucking rich, but I guess you can always be richer, and that’s beside the point. We need to stay focused on the matter at hand.

  I start to whisper.

  “We should probably keep it down, right?”

  “Right,” Charles agrees.

  I look out down the hallway in a very spy-like way, so as to not draw suspicion. Cassie grabs her purse and keys and steps out the door. She must not have heard anything we were just saying, so that’s good.

  Charles nods to me. We wait a fe
w seconds. He then puts his wallet into his pocket and motions for us to get a move on.

  “Ok, let’s roll,” he says.

  I’m not sure if this is supposed to be a direct reference to Paw Patrol, but I chuckle quietly under my breath, thinking of saying, “All paws on deck!”, but not wanting to get too loud again and attract attention.

  We get a move on it and start booking it down the hallway.

  “Amanda!” Charles calls out. “Devon and I are going to the sports shop and to the grocery store. You need anything?”

  “I need a bag of espresso!” Amanda shouts from their bedroom. “Pronto! Oh, and thank you.”

  “Okay. One bag of espresso coming up,” Charles confirms. “Does Alice need anything?”

  “Maybe some juice boxes!” Amanda says, using her shouting voice again. “She likes the grape ones.”

  “Will do, honey!” Charles yells out in confirmation. “And I know.”

  I do, too. What’s a good episode of PJ Masks without your trusty grape juice in hand?

  “See you later this afternoon,” he shouts one more time, and she yells back, “Love you!”

  Charles and I pick up the pace. It’s time! I don’t know why I’m so excited and nervous about this “mission”, but I’m starting to feel like I really am in an episode of some crazy kids’ show.

  We rush to his SUV in the garage. It’s a classy looking Porsche Cayenne. We opt for it rather than the Aston Martin, as it will draw less suspicion. We open the doors and hop in. Charles presses the start button and the engine fires up.

  He presses the garage door opener attached to the visor above. A humming sound clicks on and the pulley system begins to operate.

  The garage door opens, and we back out into the driveway and then turn for the road. Charles presses the button above his head again and the door starts to close.

  Cassie is already buzzing down the road in her little Honda Accord.

  “She drives fast!” I say.

  “She is definitely in a hurry,” Charles agrees. “Good thing I like to drive fast, too.”