Unforgettable (6 page)

 
When I finished my beverages I pushed the table off to the side. I wanted to get dressed into real clothes, but I wasn’t sure what the doctor would need from me, so I stayed in my pajamas and waited.

 
What seemed like an hour later, but was probably only a few minutes, Dr. Turner, my neurologist, came in.

 
“Juliet, how are you feeling this morning?”

 
I still don’t remember. How long am I going to be like this?” I felt suddenly frantic. I had really believed I would wake up well and healed.

 
“I don’t know.. Every case is different. You might remember in an hour or it might take a few days. Perhaps once the swelling goes down. I can’t really give you an exact time because it all depends on your body.” He took out a penlight and shined it in my eye. It didn’t hurt like it had when Robert had done it in the emergency room. That was progress in my book.

 
“Well, your pupils look fine, and none of your tests showed anything abnormal. I think once the inflammation goes down you’ll be right as rain. I’m going to go get your release papers ready. Do you have someone coming to get you?”

 
“Yes, he’ll be here in a little while.”

 
“I’m going to want to see you again in a few days, but I’ll put that in your instructions.” He jotted down something and looked over at me seriously. “If you experience any dizziness or confusion, call my office.”

 
“Okay. Thank you, doctor.”

 
 
“I’ll see you in a few days.” The doctor left and I felt deflated. That was it? I wasn’t well yet. I still had amnesia.

 
 
I sat there for a few minutes. There wasn’t anywhere to go. Ethan wasn’t here yet, but I didn’t want to be in night clothes when he arrived, so I got up and went over to the duffle bag. Ah, the jeans looked familiar. Finally. The shirt, not so much, it had some kind of metallic appliqué of birds on the front of it. Still, it was pretty cool. I took the jeans, tee shirt and some panties into the bathroom. Carrie didn’t pack me a bra, so I was going to be flying free, but at this point I didn’t really care.

 
I felt a little bit more human after I changed. I decided to skip the shower, I’d be home soon and I would much rather take my time and have a bubble bath. I needed the stress relief. I stuffed my pajamas into the duffle bag and zipped it up, ready to go. I didn’t put my shoes on since I was going to be lying on the bed, but I did put on the pink socks Carrie had so kindly packed for me.

 
I was lounging on the hospital bed and staring at the ceiling when Ethan walked in. Damn, he looked
good
. His dark wash jeans fit him to perfection and he was wearing a tee shirt that matched his gorgeous green eyes. His hair looked like it hadn’t seen a brush in some time, but on him it worked. It wasn’t the first time I had noticed how good looking he was, but it was the first time I noticed while simultaneously acknowledging to myself that I have sex with him.
 
Cue butterflies. It was the moment of truth. I was going to be going home. With him. To
our
house.

 
“Hey, you’re looking better.” He leaned down to give me a kiss, but at the last second I turned my head and his lips landed on my cheek. His smile evaporated and I felt like an ass.

 
He straightened back up and fixed the smile back on his face, but it didn’t mask the hurt I could still see in his eyes. “Are you ready to blow this joint?”

 
“Yeah, let me get my shoes on.”

 
I sat up and swung my legs off of the bed, but before I could get up to get my shoes Ethan had already gone to the cupboard and gotten them for me. He handed them to me and gathered up the rest of the things in there, setting them next to my duffle bag. I slipped my shoes on and stood up. I was as ready as I was ever going to be.

 
“Let’s go,” I said with as much enthusiasm as I could muster.
  

 
Ethan picked up my belongings and thrust a hoodie at me. “It’s chilly outside, you better put this on.” I pulled it on as we walked down the hall. A small part of me was afraid to leave the relative safety of the hospital because, once at home, I was on my own. With Ethan.

Chapter Five

 
We went out to the parking garage and Ethan pushed the remote he had pulled out of his jacket pocket. We walked up to the same black car I remembered from the other night. He pushed another button and the trunk popped open. Well, actually it smoothly glided up and put everything but my purse inside before closing the hatch. He walked around and opened the passenger door while I stood at the trunk like an idiot. Did I mention that being alone around a good looking man turned me into a stooge?

 
I managed to make my way to the door and tucked myself into the seat. Ethan closed the door and walked around to his side but he stood there without opening it. I buckled my seatbelt and waited for him to get into the car. He didn’t. I leaned over the center console and looked out the window. He was standing there with his eyes closed. Of course a second later he opened them and looked directly at me. I couldn’t breathe and I couldn’t look away. We stayed there, still, and finally he grabbed the handle and opened the door.

 
He didn’t say anything as he strapped in and started the car. He didn’t say anything as we left the hospital grounds and turned onto the street. He drove in silence until we got to my house.

 
Normally I wouldn’t have minded this as it keeps me from having to make conversation. Right now, however, it was pissing me off. I didn’t know why I was so angry, but each mile of quiet ratcheted up my fury. By the time we pulled into my driveway I was ready to snap. Ethan put the car in park and sat in the seat looking forward.

 
“So, this is kind of weird, huh?” He turned his head to look at me.

 
“So you feel like talking to me now?” I reached down to the floor to grab my purse.

 
“Did I do something to upset you?” he asked as if he didn’t know.

 
“Well, you ignored me for the entire car ride, which,
maybe
, has something to do with it.” I reached for the door handle but Ethan put his hand over mine and stopped me from pulling it.

 
“Wait. I’m sorry. I just didn’t know what to say. You still don’t remember me, not the right way. You turned your head when I kissed you. I don’t know how I’m supposed to act around you. This is hard for me too, Juliet.” Ethan’s voice sounded ragged. But that wasn’t enough to make me simmer down.

 
“You don’t know what hard is. I don’t have any idea who I am anymore. I don’t know what I do. I sure don’t know how I’m with you.” After I said it, my anger fizzled out at the look on his face. I wasn’t trying to be mean to him, I was just saying what I felt, but I realized that the last part didn’t come out quite like I had intended.

 
He pulled his hand back and I opened the door. I wasn’t in the mood to apologize to him, I had been through enough. So, even though I knew I had hurt his feelings, I got out and walked up the sidewalk.

 
Ethan got out of the car and beat me to the door. He unlocked it and stood aside to let me pass. I stopped several feet inside the doorway. My living room was wrong. There was a huge TV on one wall and long black table against the other. I took a few more steps and noticed other things that were different. There were several small statues on the built-in shelves and there were pictures in different styled chunky frames. Pictures of me, of Ethan, of Carrie and Nigel. There was no clutter. There were no magazines or cookbooks lying on the coffee table. It looked really nice, actually.

 
I turned to Ethan. He was looking at me, staring really, but not in the same hopeful way as before. His face was blank. My stomach started to hurt. I’d obviously made him angry.

 
“It’s different. I don’t remember decorating it like this.”

 
“I live here. What you don’t recognize probably belongs to me.” His tone was friendly but eyes weren’t. I suddenly wanted the other Ethan back, the overly familiar one that called me earlier.

 
I nodded and walked into the kitchen. Luckily, everything seemed to be in order here. My cookbooks were lined up on shelves beneath the island. All my countertop appliances were in their places and there were no extraneous items lying around. The only thing I noticed were some pieces of paper stuck to the refrigerator with magnets. I walked over and noted that they were recipes, written in my own handwriting with items scratched out and jotted down in the margins. I stared at them, not recognizing them, but intrigued.

 
“Those are the recipes you’re working on right now.” I wasn’t aware that Ethan followed me. “You’ve tried that pad Thai four times. I think it tastes great but you keep saying you can get it closer.” He walked over to the cabinet and pulled out a glass. “Are you thirsty?”

 
Suddenly I was parched. I nodded and he reached up for another glass.

 
“Iced tea?” I nodded again. It was surreal, Ethan was playing host in my house. He pulled out a jug of sweet tea as I stood there. I had hoped coming home would restore my memory. It didn’t, obviously, so I didn’t really know where to go from here. I pulled out a stool and sat down at the island. Ethan set my drink down and I wrapped my hands around it. Now what?

 
I knew it was time to ask Ethan some important questions. Questions only he would be able to answer.

 
“What am I blocking out? What happened that’s so terrible my mind won’t let me remember?”

 
He looked at me, shocked, but after a moment he shook his head. “I don’t know of anything terrible. You’re happy. We’re happy. I wish I knew what would make you forget your life. Us.”

 
I sat there, holding my glass of tea and wishing I had some brilliant conversational skills that I could pull out now. I started to get a little nervous. I had just gotten home and I was already out of things to say and do. I couldn’t work because I don’t know what it is I do. I’ve read blogs of course, but I’ve never set one up or written any. My cookbook sounded cool, but I don’t know what’s already in it or where to begin.

 
There were so many things I had no knowledge of that it was overwhelming. I decided to start with something simple.

 
“Can you show me how to work my phone?”

 
He looked at me askance then half snorted, “Yeah, let’s see it.”

 
I dug in my bag which was still hanging on my shoulder and pulled out the phone. He took it and for the next fifteen minutes or so showed me all the features one by one.

 
“Awesome, I have the internet.” It was amazing. The screen was way too small, but it was still cool.

 
“Do you want to see your website?” he asked, and I nodded, as excited as a schoolgirl.

 
“Absolutely. I don’t even know what it’s called.”

 
“It’s The Nonsnooty Foodie.” He typed in the address and handed the phone back to me.

 
I couldn’t believe how good it looked. Professional. “Wow,” I said as I scrolled down through the posts. “This looks great, when did I learn to do this?”

 
“You didn’t. I designed the site. You told me what you wanted though.” I scrolled lower, skimming the text on different posts.

 
“I’m pretty funny,” I remarked with a smile. Holy moly, some of my posts had
hundreds
of comments. I kept going, clicking through some of the links and I saw a picture of myself.
I looked great!
Could that really be me? With the makeup and tame hair I looked like myself but way better. Being a chef and spending most of my time in a hot kitchen, makeup was simply something that I wore on a date, and my hair lived in a bun with a hat.