“We’ve
been waiting a very long time for you to come home, young lady.”
Tears threatened to shed right then, but what he said next made me
laugh so hard they were completely forgotten. “By the way,
you’re grounded.”
I pulled back and my
hands swept for tears anyway, and I replied, “Don’t
worry. Nick pretty much keeps me under house arrest.”
“Damn right,”
Nick muttered, pulling me back to the safety of his embrace.
My mother was still
having trouble standing still and she waved frantically, beckoning us
into the house before we caused a scene – that little boy was
only one of five currently gawking. They let me walk in ahead of them
and the first thing I noticed was the strong scent of cinnamon spice.
It both burned and soothed my nose at the same time, and I stepped
farther in, scanning every little detail, praying for something to
stand out and make me remember.
The living room was
immediately off to my left and it seemed barely used. Its crisp
colors of whites and beiges made me think it would be the perfect
reading room with all that natural light. The formal dining room was
off to the right, and again, seemed hardly used, the rich, mahogany
table the focal point of that space.
I didn’t wait
for an invitation to move farther down the hall and no one stopped
me. They were eerily quiet in my wake, but I was sure they were
speaking a thousand words through their eyes and facial expressions.
The hallway wall on my
left soon transitioned into stairs that dropped down into the family
room, with the kitchen and breakfast nook to the right. “Has
anything changed?” I asked to no one in particular.
“No,” my
mother replied softly. “Does anything seem familiar?”
The family room was
filled with soft, warm jewel-toned colors. The kitchen was also warm
in tone, with honey-stained cabinets and accessories in greens, reds
and yellows.
“Uh-uh.”
My parents were probably a little disappointed, but surely Nick
expected this, given my lack of memory thus far. “Sorry,”
I added softly, turning to face my attentive audience.
Nick eliminated the
space between us as my mother waved me off. “Don’t worry
about it, Megan. We know it’ll take time.”
Megan
. She
called me Megan. Nick had asked me the other night what I wanted to
be called now that I knew I was Claire. I had chosen to stick with
Megan, because like I said before, I wasn’t sure if the Claire
inside me would ever make an appearance again, and I didn’t
want to take over something that didn’t feel like mine.
Especially her name.
She stepped forward
and took my hand in hers. “Come. Help me out in the kitchen.”
My eyes widened as she
tugged me along, Nick’s hand grazing my waist as I left. “Um,
I don’t know how well I did in the kitchen before, but
nowadays, I’m not so good.”
She chuckled lightly.
“I’m sorry to say that hasn’t changed then. Just
come keep me company.”
Nick shrugged with
amusement as I was dragged around the bar and into the kitchen. Then
he and my father disappeared into a room down another hallway.
“First things
first. Here,” she said, depositing a ceramic jar into my hands
before leaving to pull more food from the refrigerator. “Eat a
cookie or two. You’re way too skinny.”
Letting loose a single
laugh, I curiously replied, “What?” What mother does
that? Encourages their child to eat something fattening, not to
mention right before their meal?
“Those clothes
never drowned you like that. You were a perfect, healthy weight
before so I know you’re underweight now. So eat.” That
last part was so firm, she was practically daring me to disobey.
I grabbed two of what
looked to be homemade oatmeal raisin cookies and began to nibble, my
lips curling when the perfect balance of sugar and spice crumbled
onto my tongue.
“I’m sorry
to separate you from Nick. I can only imagine how attached the two of
you are right now. But your father wanted to speak to him alone for a
bit. We really owe him a lot for what he’s done. He just up and
left everything in his life to go watch over you.” Pausing her
work, she turned directly to me and asked, “How are things
between you two?”
“Good,” I
answered. She cocked one of her eyebrows and I added, “Amazing,
actually. We’re very happy.”
That satisfied her and
she continued moving about the kitchen. “Good! I’m so
glad you had someone like him to see you through this. He was always
such a nice young man.”
“Was I happy
with him? You know, before?” It was a little awkward to ask
that, but I was curious if our relationship had always been this
good.
“Very. Oh, we
were a little wary of you dating a guy two years older than you when
you first met, but he grew on us immediately. He always seemed to
dote over you, if that’s what you’re looking for. It’s
not an act because you’ve…had a hard couple of years.”
That last part killed
her to say, and suddenly, she wasn’t the only one a little
uncomfortable. It horrified me that my family knew exactly what had
happened to me physically; that raw, uncut images were probably
floating around in their heads as much as they were in mine.
It was hard to swallow
the bite of cookie in my mouth, but I got it down with a big gulp of
air.
“I’m
sorry! I should’ve offered you a drink as well. What would you
like?”
“That’s
alright. I’d actually like to use your restroom, if you
wouldn’t mind.”
“Sure, honey.”
My eyes met hers. As naturally as that
honey
was for her to
say, it felt a little funny on my end. “Why don’t you use
the one that connects to your old room upstairs? Last door on the
left. Take your time.”
I nodded and quietly
left the kitchen, hurrying my way up the stairs. The second floor
hallway opened up over the family room, so the railings ran along one
side, the rooms and doors on the other. At the top of the stairs,
there was a room to my right and three to the left. I took that long
stroll down the hallway, glancing into the only room with an open
door, the second from the end. Blue and green paisley linens with
floral mums pinned on the wall – Thea’s room.
I didn’t really
linger to explore, too curious about my own room. I twisted the
pewter knob and pushed the door open. The room was surprisingly
bright, considering the dark shade of plum on the walls, but the
sheers were white lace, allowing the sun’s rays to shine
brightly through the barest of filters. I didn’t realize I had
held my breath, and a deep exhalation slowly made its way past my
lips.
The furniture was all
shabby chic, from the iron headboard on the full-sized bed to the
wooden side table and dresser that were distressed and had the
appearance of chipped-away paint. I liked it, even as Megan, the room
seeming vintage yet fresh at the same time.
I stepped in, my hand
trailing atop the dresser, noting its lack of dust. Hanging on the
wall were a few homecoming mums of my own and dried dress corsages; a
collection of metal mirrors in all shapes and sizes; three wall
posters of bands I no longer recognized called The Dandy Warhols,
Jimmy Eat World and Fall Out Boy; and leaning in the corner, a
vintage guitar that had a hard life. Could I even play that?
Amongst the cluster of
frames on the dresser was the same picture Nick had on his bedside
table.
I held the kissing photo and settled on the bed.
Scanning what part of the room I could see, I began to wonder if I
ever kept a diary and where I might’ve stashed it to keep
private from prying eyes. Of course, that would require it still even
being here. Surely my parents, and maybe the police, would’ve
searched my room looking for answers. I wondered if at the beginning,
they thought I simply ran away, or tried to sneak off to be with Nick
for the day. God, I could only imagine the horror of realizing your
child had gone missing, and the worry and utter terror they must’ve
endured as they scrambled to make sense of it all.
I released a deep
breath, my gaze focusing on the trees swaying in the wind outside the
window. I heard someone padding across the carpet behind me, and
shortly after, Mrs. Whitaker sat down beside me.
Mrs. Whitaker.
Funny I still thought of her that way, but calling her Mom just
didn’t feel right. At least not yet.
“It’s a
little overwhelming, isn’t it?” she asked softly.
I agreed with a slow
nod of the head. “I thought coming here would help trigger some
memories or feelings or
something
,
but…”
Nothing. Not even the tiniest tidbit on the edge of my tongue, trying
desperately to come to light.
“We’d all
love for it to happen overnight, but we’ll just have to take it
one day at a time.”
But I hated waiting,
hated feeling lost inside my own mind with nothing but false memories
to flip through for comfort. Because how could they ever comfort me
now when I know they’re all just a bunch of lies?
“So what do you
think of your room?” she asked, pulling me from thought.
“You’re welcome to take any of it with you that you’d
like.”
“It’s
really pretty. Soothing to the eyes. Maybe I’ll go through it a
little before we leave.” I didn’t have the heart to tell
her that I felt like I was invading Claire’s private space. I
knew these things were mine, I just didn’t feel right going
through them yet, like I wanted to get to know Claire a little better
before I shuffled through the possessions that took her seventeen
years to collect, holding onto only the most important items. These
were her things, her memories. What right did I have to decide what
was important or not?
Wanting to change the
subject, I asked, “Is Thea coming?”
“I called to let
her know you were here. She was at the grocery store picking up a few
things for me, so she’ll be here any minute. You probably don’t
know this, but the two of you were very close.”
“Oh, yeah? We
didn’t kill each other over having to share a bathroom?”
I asked, noticing the partially opened door that clearly didn’t
open into a closet.
“Oh, no, you
did,” she responded with a smile, most likely recalling one of
those days in her mind. “You fought like all sisters did, but
mostly, you got along well enough to be each other’s best
friend. She fought the hardest to find you. I mean, we all did what
we could to find you, but Thea, she’s a sales rep for a
pharmaceutical company based here in Seattle. Her region covers
several outlying states, and everywhere she went, it didn’t
matter how big or small, she spent all her free time talking to
people and giving out your flyer. Even when she went across the
country for conferences. It didn’t matter where she was, that’s
what she did. Day in and day out.”
My eyes began to well
with tears and the back of my throat felt swollen when I swallowed.
“I didn’t know that.” I licked my lips and released
a heavy sigh. “I spent all that time wishing I had someone who
loved me who would come bursting through that door to save me.”
But no one ever did.
“When I got out,
I thought I was alone in the world, and all I could do was hide.”
Her hand suddenly
encapsulated mine; it was cool, not unlike my own skin that never
seemed to warm on its own. She sat with me a few minutes in silence,
seemingly just as comfortable with it as I was, and I began to wonder
if she’d ever done this very thing when I was missing.
I heard quick thumps
ascending the carpeted stairway, and seconds later Thea came to a
halt in the doorway. Disbelief and longing filled her voice as she
smoothly said, “Oh, my God.” Her hands clapped together
and covered her face, her fingertips joining at the bridge of her
nose. “It’s really you.”
I stood up as she
advanced, her hands reaching out to hug me, tears threatening to
over-moisturize my eyes again as I lightly placed my arms around her.
“I knew it! I knew the moment I saw you that it was really
you.” She continued on, an excess of tears causing her to
blabber her words together, but I was too caught up in something else
to decipher her sentences.
There was something
familiar
about the scent on her neck. I inhaled a long, deep
breath through my nose, my mind dissecting the scent, digging deep
inside my head, deeper and deeper into the recesses,
scratching,
scratching, scratching
…until it finally found the
corresponding memory. In my mind, I saw a cloth doll, with bright
blue eyes, freckles in triplicate that formed a triangle above her
nose and a smile on each cheek, a red dress with a white frock, and
green and white striped stockings. But something was wrong with it.
“Strawberry
Shortcake,” I murmured.
Thea wasn’t
expecting that, and she pulled away to ask, “What?”
Still dazed in
thought, I replied, “You smell like a Strawberry Shortcake
doll. But the one I see in my head looks weird. She almost looks like
a boy because her hair is so short.”
“Oh, my God!”
Thea cried, shaking me roughly with excitement. “That was your
doll! You had Strawberry Shortcake and I had Blueberry Muffin, and
one day you went and got her without permission. I was so mad at you
that I cut all the hair off your doll! I can’t believe you’re
remembering something so small!”
“Small?”
Our mother burst, standing up to involve herself now. “It
devastated her so much she cried for three days straight and stopped
eating!” Turning to me, she calmly said, “I wanted to
get you a new one but you wouldn’t have it. You said that it
would be like killing her, rejecting her that way. So I told you that
if you wished hard enough, the doll fairy would come while you were
sleeping and regrow her hair. I spent hours trying to scuff and
dirty-up the new doll so you’d believe that fairy actually
came!”