‘No, we won’t stay long,’ Dad replies.
That’s something at least, I think.
He makes himself comfortable on the sofa. Mum perches on one of the dining chairs, her gaze flicking from me to Dad and out to the view through the window. I remain standing just inside the lounge doorway.
Dad clears his throat. ‘We’re worried about you, Alice.’
‘I’m fine,’ I lie.
‘Well, that’s not really true, is it?’ he says. ‘Are you going to tell us what’s going on? Come and sit down, talk to us properly.’
My parents have this way of making me feel about twelve years old again. I slouch and grow sulky. Muscle memory in action. But I do as he asks and sit on one of the dining chairs next to Mum, angling it around to face him.
‘What do you want to know?’ I ask. ‘Other than what I’ve already told you. But no one wants to believe me.’
He takes a breath and grits his teeth, irritated by my attitude. Annoyed that I haven’t tried to make everything smooth and perfect again, like I normally would. I hope he’s only being this way because he’s worried about me, but I’m pretty sure it’s because I’m causing an inconvenient scandal. I’m beingdifficult.
‘So you’re still adamant you don’t recognise your fiancé,’ he says, as though I’ve purposely chosen to upend my life.
‘I know my fiancé. I just don’t know the man who was at my wedding,’ I reply.
‘Look, Alice, this has got to stop. You do realise that all this nonsense about not recognising him is in your head. You need to pull yourself together or get proper help. Moping about in the flat isn’t going to get your life back on track.’
‘Maybe you can patch things up with Seth?’ Mum adds hopefully. ‘Set another wedding date.’
‘I can’t imagine he’d want to get married now,’ Dad retorts. ‘Not after you humiliated the poor man in front of everyone. And if he does, I won’t be footing the bill for a second wedding. You can do it quietly with just close family.’
I tune out while they air all their frustrations. I know they’re only saying these hurtful and pointless things because they’re worried about me, but it’s not helping my state of mind. I breathe in and out, and try to picture my calm place – a cool, green forest with a clear stream and—
‘Alice,’ Dad says, cutting into my thoughts. ‘Alice, are you listening to me?’
‘Yes, of course.’ I blink and reluctantly bring myself back to my surroundings.
‘Right. Well, your mother and I, we feel that you need to see someone ... professional. We have the number of a therapist who specialises in—’
‘It’s fine, I saw my GP yesterday,’ I interrupt.
‘You did?’ He raises a sceptical eyebrow.
I knew that would shut him up. Honestly, I feel mean having these antagonistic thoughts towards my dad, but he can’t help rubbing me the wrong way. I guess we’ve always clashed. He gets on far better with my sister. They’re two peas in a pod.
Mum reaches out a hand to squeeze my shoulder. ‘Well done for going to the doctor, Alice. What did she say?’
I shift in my chair, not wanting to recall the information, but realising I can’t hide from it. ‘She thinks I might have prosopagnosia, but I don’t agree.’
‘What’s that?’ My parents both look genuinely worried for a moment.
‘It’s a condition where you can’t recognise faces,’ I explain.
‘What?’ Dad looks sceptical. ‘Is that a real thing?’
I shrug. ‘Apparently.’
‘How do you spell that?’ He gets out his phone and starts tapping and scrolling, obviously looking for himself. ‘Who did you see? A locum?’
‘No, DrPhilips.’
‘Oh, right.’ He gives a small harumph and puts his phone down. DrPhilips is our family doctor. We’ve been with her for years, and I know Dad respects her.
