I want to ask what that means but I don’t want to prolong this conversation any further.
My mom hesitates for a second, burning a hole in the back of Mrs. Martin’s head with her look. I tug on her sleeve, and she breaks her stare, locking eyes with me. She takes a breath and when I flick my head toward the door she nods and drops the sandwich onto the counter with a thud.
“You okay?” I ask when we’re safely back in the car.
“God, that woman!”She curls her hand into a fist in her lap. “Whatwasthat? Not even a concern for the fact that you could have died. No wonder Nora spent every day at the hospital.”
“Yeah, I don’t know. She was pretty scary, but so arehospitals.” I laugh to try to lighten the mood, but it falls a little short. That’s not a lady I’d want to have to spend any time at all around.
“How dare she talk toyoulike that!” my mom responds, still hyped up on her frustration. “She wants to talk tomelike that? Fine! But you? I could’ve… I could’vesockedher.” And at the idea of my mom “socking” anyone, I let out a real laugh. “What? I’m serious!” she exclaims.
“It’s okay, Mom.” I pat her leg, stifling another laugh. “I mean, shewasa jerk, but… I don’t know. She had a point,” I admit.
“She hadnopoint,” Mom scoffs, and I look over at her.
“She did. Mom, what the heck was I doing out here?” I ask, shaking my head and motioning to the endless fields all around us. “I mean, how did I end up in the middle of the woods, falling into a ravine? I’ve never even been here before.” I tighten my hands around my knees, looking out the front windshield. “At least I don’t think I’ve been here. I just don’t get it.”
“It’ll be okay,” she says unconvincingly. Normally she’d know exactly what to say, a plausible solution to make me feel a bit better, but instead she’s chosen the most generic statement on earth.
“Will it?” I ask. “What if I don’t get my memories back? What if I never remember?”
“Then…” She sputters for a second. “Then I’ll help you find your place again.”
“What if you can’t?” I look out the passenger window, nervous that I’m about to open a can of worms, but I can’t get the thought out of my head. “Mom, things feel different between us.”
“No. I don’t think so,” she replies, almost automatically.
“Really? You don’t feel it? I mean, what’s with Lola’s? We’ve been going there all my life, and suddenly we just stopped?”
“Stevie.” She shakes her head. “We just got busy. You had school and soccer and Savannah and Rory, and I’ve been doing my thing at the church. It’s nothing more than that.”
“Promise?”
“Promise,” she replies. I study her face, looking for signs that she might be hiding something more, but I just find a soft familiar smile.
She starts up the car and pulls out onto the road. Our conversation feels finished, but I’m not sure it put me any more at ease. I don’twantto find my place again. I want to remember the life I’ve already lived.
June 30
Stevie,
I can’t believe you and your mom brought me dinner! And I wasn’t even there to receive it… DAMN. I would have given anything to see you. Even if you still don’t know me, even if I don’t get to talk to you, even if it’s through a window or across the street. I just want to see you again.
I still can’t believe I just ran out of your room without saying anything. I just… don’t know what I’m supposed to do. You’re the only one that really knows me at all, babe. If you don’t remember me, it almost feels like I don’t even exist. I’ve been glued to my phone, waiting for any sign that you’ve remembered. A call, an Instagram message, anything, but so far it’s been radio silence.
If you’re up and about, you must be feeling pretty good. Maybe your memory won’t be far behind. My mom barely lets me out of her sight now that I’m back working basically full-time on the farm, but somehow I’m going to find time to start going to your coffee shop, in case you start back there.
I have no idea what the heck I’m going to do if I do see you there, though. I mean, what could I possibly say? How is this even happening to us? I can’t imagine ever forgetting you, Stevie, so I don’t know how to fix it. I don’t know what the right move is here. I don’t know how to make you remember me.
Love,
Nora
CHAPTER 11
THE NEXT DAY, I WALKthrough the screen door out onto our back deck to find my mom reading a paperback in the afternoon sun.
“You’re still reading smut, I see,” I say, trying to hide my smile.
