“What do you suggest I do?”
Gigi sits back in her chair, looking out at her garden. The September weather is warm, but the steaming heat of August is past, and the colorful blooms in her flower beds look happy and rejuvenated. “Have you looked him up online?”
“I have. He’s a sales rep for a brewery, according to LinkedIn. And single, it seems from Facebook, so I guess it’s a point in his favor that he’s not ignoring his wife to leer at dancers.”
She nods and picks at the cuticle on her index finger like she always does when she’s thinking. We hear the front screen door slam. Gigi looks at me. “That’s Ed. Can we tell him?”
I nod. Embarrassed as I am, Ed has always been a source of support.
Ed comes sauntering outside. “What’s up, ladies?” he says, smoothing his mustache with his hand. “Mind if I join you?”
“Sit down, honey,” Gigi says, lifting her face up to him for a kiss.
He takes a chair and folds his tall body into it. “You ladies look mighty serious. Something wrong?”
Gigi refills her glass and hands it to him. “Addy has a little story to tell you.”
I repeat to Ed what I told Gigi, and he never takes his eyes from mine. “Hmm. That guy sounds like a real asshole.”
“Yeah, he is. But that’s not the point. What if I am the girl he was talking about?”
“Only one way to find out,” Ed says. “Someone’s got to go talk to him.”
“I can’t do that,” I tell him, already feeling my stomach twisting in knots.
“Of course you can’t,” Ed says. “I mean me. I’ll go.”
I agree to the plan, but now that there’s a chance I might find out the truth, I feel even worse. I don’t really want to know that I was an exotic dancer before my memory was wiped out. And what if Ed does find out that it’s true? Will he and Gigi kick me out? What will Gabriel say? And even if he doesn’t care, what if his family discovers the truth?
??21??
Addison
We’ve just left the Pennsylvania Academy of Fine Arts and Gabriel and I are walking along a crowded street. I contort my body to avoid being jostled by passersby, who all seem to be in a hurry, feeling as though the throngs are closing in on me. We have only a few more blocks before we reach the restaurant where we’re meeting Ted, Blythe, and Hailey for dinner. It’s Hailey’s birthday, and she wanted to spend it together. She has so many friends who would love to celebrate with her, so I was more than touched when she said she wanted to be with us instead.
Gabriel offered to grab a cab for us, but I insisted on walking. Now I’m sorry. I feel like I’m wilting from the humid air and the crush of people surrounding me. I hold the gift bag close to me. I enlarged my favorite photo of Hailey and me, taken at the beginning of the summer. We’re sitting beside each other, laughing, our shoulders touching, and there is a shimmering lake in the background. I’ve attached the photograph to one leaf of a velvet-covered binder, and on the other inside leaf is a letter I’ve written to her. It’s not something I made for display, but something for her alone. Something to let Hailey know that she is a sister to me, and that I love her.
It’s time to cross the street, and we wait for the signal to walk. Cars are whizzing by nonstop, and I wonder again at the sheer number of people in the city today. A woman’s annoyed voice gets my attention. She is trying to juggle her packages while holding on to her two young children’s hands. She bends over to pick up a dropped box, and at the same time the young boy’s balloon escapes from his grip.
“Come back!” she yells as he runs straight into the street and into the path of an oncoming car.
Before I can think, I dash out and grab him, pulling him into my arms as the car screeches to a stop just inches away from us. Horns blare, and all traffic comes to a halt as I run back to the sidewalk with the child. Gabriel’s face is white, and the mother, crying now, thanks me and clutches her son to her chest.
“You scared the hell out of me.” Gabriel’s voice is ragged. “But that was really brave. You saved that boy’s life.” He takes my hand and moves me out of the middle of the sidewalk. We lean against a building. “Take a minute to collect yourself,” he says.
I let out a large breath, realizing that my legs are shaking. “I saw him, and I just reacted. Thank God he’s okay.” As the words leave my lips, I wonder suddenly if I even believe in God. I think I do, actually. It seems right. But who knows what beliefs the old me held? That’s how I’m now thinking of myself. New me, old me. I’ve started keeping a journal as well. It helps me to organize my thoughts, but the other reason I keep it is one I don’t like to admit even to myself. It will serve as my memory if something happens again, and I am back at square one, my life a blank page.