‘Does he know you’re here?’
I hesitated. Should I admit to him that Greg didn’t even know Adam was back? What would that sound like? That I had something to hide?
‘Yes, he knows. He’s fine with it. It’s my job.’
He didn’t move for a moment and I wondered whether he believed me. ‘Yes, I suppose it is, isn’t it?’ he said, eventually. ‘In that case I should be paying you for your time.’
‘That’s not what I meant. I want to help. We’re friends.’
‘Are we?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Were we ever actually friends Erin? Or were we always lovers?’
I felt my face flush at the memories that word brought back in just two short syllables.
‘We were both.’ I stood defiantly, challenging him to contradict me. I felt as though I was suffocating. Finally, he smiled.
‘Good. I’m glad. Because that means we can be friends now, right?’
‘Right.’ I smiled back, glad to be on safer ground again.
He looked down at his feet, humble now, so unlike the old Adam it almost took my breath away. ‘I don’t think I had many friends.’
‘What makes you say that?’
He shrugged. ‘Nobody has bothered to come and see me, since the accident. Well, not for ages anyway. A few people came at first – a couple who claimed they were friends and brought flowers and grapes the way you do for old people you don’t know very well, and a woman who said she was my girlfriend but didn’t bother coming back again when she realised I didn’t know her at all.’ He rubbed his hand over his face. ‘I just – I can’t help thinking I must have been a pretty shoddy person if nobody cared enough to come and spend some proper time with me, to check I really was all right.’ He shifted his weight from one leg to the other. ‘You’re the first person who’s seemed even vaguely bothered that I’ve lost my memory, and has actually tried to help me.’ His voice cracked and I didn’t know how to respond. What could I say? I had absolutely no idea what he’d been like over the last eighteen years. All I knew was, if it had been me in his position, I knew at least four people who would be there for me instantly – Dad, Greg, Sam and Rose – and the fact that Adam didn’t have anyone like that – no close friends, no wife, no loyal girlfriend – to worry about him suggested he could be right.
Instead of answering I glanced down at my hands.
‘I’ll do whatever I can Adam. But I can’t promise it will work.’
‘I know that. But just the fact that you care enough to try means the world.’
I inhaled slowly, trying to stop the thumping in my head, my arms, my legs. I felt heavy, as though I was being weighted down, and the more I tried to battle, the harder it became to stay afloat. I knew if I let myself it would be all too easy to reach for Adam, to use him as a life raft to rescue me. To save me.
But I also knew it could destroy everything, and that I’d regret it the instant I did.
‘I do need to go soon,’ I said, the words tumbling out as I stepped back. The distance between us hummed with electricity.
‘Could…’ He stopped. ‘Couldn’t we just try a few more songs before you go? Please?’
My mind was screaming at me to get away, to go home. My body on the other hand, was desperate to stay. I was also acutely aware that I hadn’t done what I’d promised to do today, and if I didn’t at least try and help him then the whole thing would have been a complete waste of time.
‘Okay.’
He cocked his head. ‘You sure?’
‘Sure.’ I bent and picked up a few CDs from the top of the pile and stepped towards the stereo.
For the next hour we tried song after song. Each time I started a new CD, a new song, I felt hopeful. And, although Adam seemed to remember the lyrics to some, it soon became clear that nothing was working. Nothing was triggering any memories.
At least, not in him. There were plenty cascading into my mind though – some of them more welcome than others.
‘It must mean something if I can remember the lyrics, mustn’t it?’ he said eagerly between songs. ‘That it’s working a bit?’
I shook my head, tried to explain. ‘I’m really sorry, but I don’t think so. The thing is, the memories of lyrics and tunes are stored in a different part of the brain from the rest of our memories. It’s almost an instinct, to sing along to a tune.’
