“There must be something else you can do, surely?” I said. “Can’t you give me anything? Can you do something?”
“There’s no magic pill, unfortunately,” Dr. Soares said. “It’s excellent you’re staying with Maya in your old home. Familiar people and surroundings tend to help, as does trying to relax, which sounds ridiculous, I know. Sometimes smell or touch can be powerful triggers.”
“Basically, it’s a waiting game,” Maya said.
“I’ll send my notes to Dr. Adler,” Dr. Soares said. “I recommend you see him in a week. If anything changes before then, call him immediately, and if you have violent headaches, nausea or blurred vision, dial 911 without delay. It could be serious.”
Maya had more questions about what may or may not spark memories, but I zoned out when she wanted to go over how confabulation worked a third time. While I hadn’t expected anyone to produce a “magic pill,” as Dr. Soares had called it, I’d expected...more. A better approach than wait and see. I wanted them to fix this, now, or give me the tools to fix myself.
“I’m so glad they figured out you’re not sick,” Maya said as we walked back to the car. “Although it bugs me they won’t commit to a diagnosis, it’s pretty obvious from what I read what’s going on. I mean, I understand they’re not miracle workers, but still...” She put her hand on my shoulder and I shrugged her off. “Hey, Ash,” she said. “It’s going to be all right.”
“Is it?” I tried tamping my anger back down before it made its way up my throat, but only managed to swallow it about halfway. “It’s not good enough. What am I supposed to do? Just wait and see what comes back? Not know if it’s real?” I dug my nails into my palms, hard, as I fought to regain control before I put a fist through the car window.
“I’m sure they did their best,” Maya said quietly. “We’ll get there. I know we will. All in good time, okay? And I’ll help you. Tell you if whatever you’re remembering is real or confabulation. You’ll get through this. We’ll get through this.”
I almost let out a laugh. Jesus, she really didn’t understand a thing, did she? I wanted to yell at her, shout I shouldn’t have to ask her to verify my memories, that what I needed was to feel human again, whole, not a broken shell of a man. Letting out a breath, jaw still clenched and heart pounding, I muttered, “Yeah, yeah. All in good time.”
13
LILY
It was Thursday, and somehow five days had passed since Jack had disappeared. I’d stopped counting the minutes, but only because they’d morphed into hours, and the hours into days. Although I wanted time to stand still, or better yet, be reversed, it kept going, relentless and cruel. I hadn’t yet found the courage to return to Jack’s apartment but I contacted Heron and Stevens every day, twice a day, and we’d reached the point where they no longer knew what to say other than, “We’re collaborating with all the different counties on missing persons but we’re afraid there’s still no news.”
Mike had insisted I take some paid leave from the garage, an offer I’d ungraciously refused. “What am I supposed to do all day if I’m not here?” I’d snapped, throwing my hands in the air as he gave me a pained expression, no doubt unsure how to handle my misplaced anger and volatile mood swings. I’d stayed late at the garage that night, reorganized the files, archiving the old client records and making sure the new ones were color-coded and alphabetized—things I’d wanted to get around to eventually, but which took on a sudden and immediate urgency.
I knew it was an attempt to keep at least one part of my life under control. I needed to be busy, it helped me avoid sleeping. The night before I’d dreamt I was in the ocean, the skies blue, the sun hot, a perfect summer day until the clouds darkened and the waves picked up. I’d seen Jack’s bloated body floating beneath the surface, his face a mass of rotting, half-eaten flesh, his beautiful features almost unrecognizable. He’d held out a putrid arm as his blue lips mouthed, “Help me, Lily.” I’d woken up screaming and shivering, unable to get back to sleep.
It was lunchtime now, and after Mike shooed me out the door, insisting I take the afternoon off because the bags under my eyes were as big and black as the tires he sold, I headed to the grocery store for a few supplies. As I wandered around, picking up milk that would turn sour and food I swore I’d eat but which would mostly end up in the garbage, my cell rang.
“Lily,” Sam said. “How are you doing? Do you have any news?”
He’d called daily, and this was the way each of our conversations started. I sighed, rested my elbows on the handlebar of my shopping cart. “Nothing.”
“God, this is so stressful, and I can only imagine what you’re going through. It’s so unfair, Jack was...uh...I mean, is, such a great guy.”
Ignoring the slip, I forced the lump in my throat back down, and exhaled quietly, counting to three. “I know... How are things with you? Where are you?”
“Company HQ in Chicago. That’s the other reason for my call. I got a promotion.”
My heart ached. Sam’s life was moving forward, and while I was happy for him, all it did was illustrate how much mine would never be the same again. I ordered my lips to move into a smile, hoped it would be enough for Sam to hear the gesture in my voice. “How fantastic. Congratulations.”
“Yeah, thanks. VP of national business development. I can’t quite believe it even though it’s been in the works for a month. I would’ve mentioned it before, but it was top secret.”
“This is good news, isn’t it? You don’t sound very happy.”
“Oh, yes, I’m thrilled. More than
