Maya’s car keys hung on the fish-shaped hook in the kitchen, so I grabbed them, pressing the set into my palm. I hoped driving was part of what Dr. Soares had referred to as my semantic memory and I wouldn’t end up in a ditch. Now was the time to find out.
As I reached the front door, I doubled back to the kitchen. I took a couple of twenties from Maya’s wallet, wrote an I Owe You note and popped it inside before deciding to scribble another message to leave on the table in case Maya woke up to find the house empty.
Gone out for a drive. Back soon. Don’t worry.
Not quite satisfied, I underlined the last two words three times and added four exclamation marks to convey the message properly.
The air outside was cool with a hint of a salty breeze, and I hurried to the car, glancing over my shoulder as if I were a teenager whose parents might bust me as soon as I turned on the engine. I headed out of the driveway, enjoying the sudden sense of control, the certainty I knew what I was doing and the freedom that came with it. I accelerated up the street and glanced at Keenan’s house, where the lights were off, and no car was parked outside. I kept going, taking my time as I got into town, looking around for nighttime clues or hints, places I’d been or people I knew—anything I might recall from the years I’d spent here. Still, nothing.
Maya had mentioned how Newdale’s population grew over the summer months, filled with campers, beachgoers and other tourists passing through. The balmy evening had kept the masses outside, many of the bars and restaurant terraces still at least half-full, the quiet din of late-night chatter filling the air.
I recognized the turnoff to Dr. Adler’s office. If it hadn’t been so late and he wasn’t on vacation, maybe I’d have considered stopping by for someone to talk to, although I knew he’d reiterate Dr. Soares’s statement about there being no magic pill. “Give yourself time to heal,” he’d say. “Be patient.” Fine, but how much bloody time and patience was I supposed to have?
I kept going, past Drift and the few other stores, coffee shops and restaurants, and farther still. It was the first time since I’d arrived that I’d explored this side of town and, with the confidence in my abilities bolstered, I kept going. I passed a bar and grill called the Place Down the Road, and a blue neon sign above the barn-style door flickered sporadically, proclaiming it to be open. It looked almost full inside, and I craned my neck to see the terrace on the side, which was lit up with twinkling fairy lights, and looked just as crowded. The smell of fish and chips wafted through the air, making my stomach rumble.
I nabbed a free parking spot a little farther down and doubled back on foot, not yet certain I could face that much hubbub. When I got a little closer, I looked across the street and saw one of the only people I recognized—Lily. She sat on a bench alone, her head bent. As I looked at her, she lifted her chin, and when she saw me her mouth dropped open. She slowly raised her hand in a tentative wave, and when I returned the gesture, she smiled.
Hoping my feet wouldn’t betray me and make me trip, I crossed the road and walked up to her, the warmth of a blush creeping over my face. Once again, I felt as if I were a teenager—although I had no recollection of what I’d been like, but if my dry mouth and the way my stomach had turned itself into knots were anything to go by, I must’ve been an awkward, tongue-tied fool.
“Hi,” I muttered when I got there, before trying again. “Hello, Lily.”
Her face lit up, a small dimple forming on her left cheek. “Couldn’t sleep, either?” she said, and I shook my head. “Are you and Maya out for a walk, too?”
“No, it’s just me.”
“Oh, well, uh, do you want to...?” She gestured to the empty spot next to her.
I sat down and the silence settled between us. I wasn’t sure how to act. This was a woman I’d cared for, maybe loved, even. We’d no doubt been together countless times, yet, here I was, searching for something to say. I stole a sideways glance at her. She’d swept her hair into a loose ponytail, which had come a little undone, a few soft strands framing her face, reaching down to her neck. Her deep blue eyes, straight nose and high-set cheekbones—each feature beautiful in its own right—combined, made her stunning.
She turned her head, and when she caught my stalker-in-the-headlights gaze, she laughed. “You’re staring. Stop it or you’ll make me feel really self-conscious.”
I pulled a face, relieved she’d been the one to break the tension. “I’m glad you’re still in town. I was worried you might leave before I got to see you again.”
She looked away, her face turning serious. “I thought about it. Leaving, I mean.”
“Did you?”
“Yeah... I’m confused. I’m angry. And it’s all so...weird.”
“I’m not sure the word is strong enough.”
“Let me know when you come up with a better one.”
I smiled. “But...you decided to stay. Why?”
She took a deep breath before counting on her fingers. “Because I have questions, because I want to help, but most of all...because—” she shook her head “—because I need to know how much I still care about you.” Her eyes met mine, deep and intense. “I can’t believe I found you. Or that you’re alive. My life has been hell.”
“I’m not even going to pretend
