It was Pixies’Doolittlealbum, its brown and white monkey on the front an instant flashback to the hours Adam and I used to spend together listening to music in our bedrooms.
‘It might.’
Smiling, he took the disc from my hands and slotted it into the CD player.
‘Hang on.’
He looked at me, a question on his face.
‘I need to ask you a few questions first.’
‘Riiight…’
I coughed, preparing myself. ‘Okay. Firstly, do you have any negative memories associated with any of these songs?’
‘I don’t have any memories associated with any songs.’
‘No, course. Sorry.’ I felt edgy and nervous. I needed to pull myself together. I was good at this. I knew what I was doing. ‘To be honest these questions are probably irrelevant given your situation,’ I said, changing tack. ‘We might as well just dive straight in.’
Adam pressed ‘play’ and seconds later, the sludgy, distorted guitar riff filled the room – and my head filled with memories like a balloon that was about to burst.Adam and I side by side on my single student bed, kissing. This song loud, blocking out any other sound. Adam’s hand sliding up my thigh, under my shirt, unhooking my bra…I opened my eyes with a start and forced my mind away from what had happened next. Instead I concentrated on trying to steady my breath, and listening to the song. And I watched Adam, who was cross-legged on the floor beside me. He had his eyes closed and his hands clasped in his lap, a look of deep concentration on his face. I took the opportunity to study that face, at once so familiar and yet so different from the boy I remembered. My eyes traced the outline of his jaw, the stubble scattered across his cheeks, the dark hair cut shorter than I’d ever seen it before and a well of desire surged in my belly.
Adam’s eyes flipped open and I quickly averted my gaze. When I looked back he was still studying me. I leant over and stopped the music and the silence that followed felt deafening.
‘Well?’ I said. ‘Anything?’
He shook his head, a look of dejection on his face. ‘Nothing. I assume that song meant something to me? To us?’
I nodded, praying he didn’t ask for more details. But rather than being curious he seemed pent up, frustrated. ‘I should have known it wouldn’t work,’ he said. He punched his fist into the rug.
‘You can’t give up that easily. That was the very first song; there are so many others we can try.’ Without thinking, I reached over and placed my hand on his knee. Before I could pull it away again, his hand was on mine, and the skin where we were touching felt like I’d been branded. The moment stretched on forever, everything else forgotten except the feel of his skin against mine.
I pulled my hand away first.
‘Shall we try another one?’ I hoped he couldn’t tell that I was shaking as I picked up a couple more CDs from the pile without checking what they were. I kept my gaze down, desperate not to see the look in his eyes. I couldn’t go there.
‘What’s the point?’ His voice was angry.
‘Surely it’s worth at least one more go before we give up?’
He stared at the jumble of CDs for a moment, then snatched one up seemingly at random and shoved it in the CD player. PJ Harvey’s ‘This Is Love’ started up and I braced myself to be assaulted by yet more inappropriate memories about the two of us together. But this time, as the lyrics about life being so complex began, it wasn’t happy images of Adam and me that flashed through my mind, but rather glimpses of a different type of recollection – a night I had forgotten until now. Adam and Greg were squaring up to each other at a party as this song thumped in the background; I’d watched them from across the room, frozen, as I wondered whether they were about to start fighting. Then as quickly as it had all started, they had broken away, Greg shoving Adam in the chest before storming off. Later, Adam had told me Greg had got mad about nothing, but Greg had admitted to me that Adam had been boasting about all the women who swarmed round him after gigs, and he’d been sticking up for me. I hadn’t known who to believe, and so we never mentioned it again. But this song had brought the memory to the forefront in perfect HD clarity and I recalled the intense sense of sorrow I’d felt at the time.
I was pulled out of the moment by a sudden silence, and I looked up to find Adam had pressed stop, and was staring into space, his brow knitted into a frown.
‘Sorry Erin. It’s just so frustrating, not being able to remember anything at all.’ His voice was low and he studied me intently, as though trying to work out who I was. I supposed he was, in a way. After all, he only had my word for it that I was who I said I was. It struck me for the first time how vulnerable it must make you feel to have no memories of your life, to not recognise people who claimed to have known you well. How could you ever know who to trust?
‘It’s fine.’ I fumbled with another CD case and the disc fell out and rolled across the floor. We both reached for it at the same time and our fingers met. I froze.
‘What did I do to you, Erin? Why didn’t we stay together?’
The words rained down on me like rocks, and I struggled to catch my breath. This was wrong. I shouldn’t be here, having this conversation with this man. I should be at home, with my husband, watchingElfand drinking Baileys in front of a roaring fire. I stood. Adam stayed where he was, looking up at me.
‘I need to go home.’
‘To Greg?’
‘Of course to Greg.’
He pushed himself to standing so that I had to look up at him. He was only inches away from me and I was sure he must be able to hear the rush of blood in my ears as loudly as I could.
