“I don’t know.” I sighed and put my mug down, my hands shaking. “I screwed up, Jenny.”
She took a tentative sip of her hot tea. “You sure did.”
I laughed then. “Thanks a lot.”
“Well, you did!” We laughed together, but it petered out quickly.
“Maybe you guys should try couples therapy,” Jenny said.
“And talk about what?” I asked. “I’m not sure what a therapist would do with ‘My girlfriend thinks she’s someone else’s wife... Any strategies for such a conundrum?’” I rolled my eyes and Jenny chuckled.
“You’re right. Bad idea,” she said. “Look, Lucy, I didn’t have the chance to say this yet, but I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about your mom and dad. And full confession, I agreed with them it was the right thing to do. Not telling you right away, I mean.” She frowned. “You were dealing with so much and I think we all expected things would get back to normal. With your memory.”
“Yeah, I think I expected that, too.” And as I said it I realized I had, despite the warnings from my doctors and Dr. Kay about the possibility of my memory challenges being long-term. “It’s okay. I get it, and I probably would have done the same thing.”
She smiled gratefully at me, and we relaxed into a moment of silence.
“I’ve hurt Matt. Badly.”
“You have,” she said, then quickly added, “But it wasn’t intentional, Lucy.” True, I hadn’t intended to hurt Matt. But even though my memory was in chaos, there was nothing wrong with my free will. Yes, I’d had too much to drink and my judgment was impaired, but I’d still made the choice to kiss Daniel. That was on me. “This is hardest for you.”
“Is it? Is it hardestfor me? I don’t think I’m suffering any more than he is,” I said. “But it feels impossible to transition from the Lucy who loved Daniel to the one who’s happy with Matt.” To box up what I connected with Daniel—that he took cream and sugar in his coffee, liked ginger beer and basketball but not hockey, how he shivered when I kissed a spot right below his ear—and shift to Matt, who liked his coffee black and was obsessed with the Toronto Maple Leafs and cycling and owned more shoes than I did and who knew how to make me laugh when I was upset better than anyone.
“It wrings me dry, the back-and-forth shifts, Jen. Sometimes I forget who likes what and who I’m supposed to be when I’m with them, and mostly, what I want.”
I pressed a hand to my forehead, closed my eyes. “Jenny, the way Matt looks at me. It’s how...” I paused. “It’s how I think I look at Daniel. But it’s not real with Daniel, and I don’t know how to stop—” My throat closed and I gulped noisily. “I don’t know how to stopall these feelings.”
Jenny watched me for a moment, then sighed. “I don’t know if you can.”
“So what does that mean for me and Matt?”
She shrugged, which was answer enough.
“What were we like?” I asked. “Before, when I remembered everything and life was good and normal.”
“You were happy,” she replied. “Like, really happy.” She sipped her tea, gave a small smile. “You two brought out the best in one another. And I know that sounds supercheesy and like a Hallmark card, but honestly, it’s the truth.” Jenny looked as though she was considering whether to say more, then made her decision. “You once told me Matt proved you’d never been in love before.”
I nodded, then burst into tears.
31
Alex was licking peanut butter from a spoon and dipping it back into the jar. I scowled at her because it was Jenny’s peanut butter and I was sure she wouldn’t be happy about what Alex was doing. But I didn’t say anything because I didn’t want to argue about something else. We’d already had words about the separation, and her failure to fill me in—she joked Mom had bribed her with a new lens before admitting she agreed with my parents—so adding one more log onto a raging fire probably wasn’t wise. “You know, I miss the days when you used to create a better version of the truth,” Alex said, her mouth thick with the peanut butter. “Whatever happened tothatLucy?”
“What is that supposed to mean?” I asked, scowling more deeply now. “And stop double-dipping. It’s disgusting.” I was irritable and my back hurt from sleeping on Jenny’s futon. Mom had also been calling incessantly, and when I wouldn’t answer (or respond to the emoji-filled texts she sent immediately after each call), she sent Alex to talk with me. And so here we were, in Jenny’s apartment while she was at work, eating peanut butter on Ritz crackers. But I didn’t want to talk about what had happened. Or what I’d done to ensure no matter how fiercely Matt loved me (or how much I’d loved him) there may no longer be a relationship to cling to. Nousto fight for.
“You used to be all about the silver lining. Like, remember when we got to pet those baby sharks at that aquarium in Sarasota, and I refused because I thought it was so sad they were locked up in there and you told me they were probably happier because they didn’t have to fight for their food like they would in the wild?”
I frowned, remembering the smooth, rubbery feel of the shark’s skin but not my comment about their happiness.
“Or when your bike got stolen and you told Dad it was probably some kid who couldn’t afford a bike, so it was okay because they needed it more than you did?” I nodded, remembering that one. I’d known if I used that reasoning on dad he would buy me a new bike without too much fuss (he was a bit of a bleeding heart, my dad) and I would never have to admit I had left it unlocked, ripe for stealing.
“That’s not creating a better version of the truth,” I argued. “Silver linings go with the territory when you’re a kid. Besides, I’m sure someone elsedidget a lot of joy out of my bike.” It had been a great bike.
Alex nodded and licked her peanut-butter-coated lips. But she wasn’t done with me yet, had a point (Alex always had a point) to drill into me whether I wanted to hear it or not. “Then there was that time your bestie, Nancy McPherson, stole your date in eighth grade. Remember what you said then?”
I paused, thought back, rejoiced quietly for a moment about how clear and secure my memories were from my childhood. “That it had been my idea,” I said softly.
“Exactly,” Alex said, dipping her spoon in one more time. “Silver-lining-Lucy.”
