7. Aye, captain. Looks like we have a new name.”
"Aye, captain. Looks like we have a new name.”
Jane Doe
After taking the longest shower of my life—literally—I slip back into yesterday’s clothes, leaving the button of my jeans open and relishing the fact that they now have the same clean-cotton smell as Caleb’s clothes. I need to write down the name of his detergent. It’s heaven.
As I brush my teeth, I study my face in the mirror, but nothing is familiar. How do I not know who I am?
I close my eyes, then open them again. “Hi , my name is—”
Nothing. Taking a breath, I start again. “I’m—”
I try again and again, until tears brim in my eyes and my head is pounding so violently, I have to stop.
All I want is to smash that stupid mirror into pieces.
Why me? With so many people at that hockey game, why did it happen to me?
Have I done something horrible in my life that I deserved to be pummeled by a stray hockey player?
Just because I wasn’t in the police database doesn’t mean I’m not an awful person.
After all, no one seems to be looking for me so far.
Something familiar washes over me, like I’m used to feeling this way. Powerless and persecuted. Or maybe it’s just because that’s the only mode I’ve known since I started forming memories again.
I’ll be fine. I just have to get through this. I’ll go to therapy on Monday, and everything will work out. It has to.
The fact that no one has reported me missing doesn’t mean anything.
It hasn’t even been twenty-four hours yet, and I’m not a kid.
I’m actually not sure how old I am. I don’t look too old, but I just spotted a couple of gray hairs in the mirror.
My best guess is I’m in my late twenties—probably close to Caleb’s age.
Staying cooped up in my room feel s weird, so I go back downstairs. I’m kind of curious to peek in his room, and he did offer his bath, but it feels too intimate to check it out when he’s not here. Even more intimate than being in his house alone.
Speaking of the house, it’s beautifully decorated, and I can’t help but notice that he has a lot of models built out of LEGO.
They truly look like works of art. I wonder if he builds them himself.
Moving on, I scan the walls and coffee table, but I have yet to see any personal photos.
He mentioned he had a sister, but I’m not seeing any images of her, or the rest of his family.
I do recall seeing some trophies in the family room downstairs when I grabbed my laundry, so I head back down.
The spacious family room takes up almost the entire floor, except for the laundry room and a half bath.
Dark-blue built-in closets with golden handles line most of the room, including under the stairs.
There’s a huge U-shaped couch situated in front of a massive TV.
On the coffee table, I notice a chess set, also made of LEGO, and some kind of gaming console with the box of a game entitled NHL Master .
That makes me smile. Caleb has been so serious since yesterday, I didn’t expect him to be a gamer.
Further in the room, I find another dining table, and on the far wall, a china cabinet packed with trophies.
There are some photos scattered across the space as well.
One features Caleb in a red-and-black jersey with the number nineteen, a “C” stitched on the front, shaking hands with a tall older guy with blond hair.
Next, there’s him holding a huge trophy that looks like a cup, wearing a smile so bright it stirs something inside of me.
I continue exploring the trophies and pictures, until I finally find one unrelated to hockey.
Five people are posing in front of a Christmas tree, smiling.
This must be his family. He’s the spitting image of his dad, with the same strong jawline and easy grin.
He has his mom’s eyes, but hers have a softer expression, and his two sisters share that resemblance, with long brown hair, brown eyes, and matching bright smiles.
I wonder if I have a picture like this displayed somewhere.
Is there anyone looking at it right now, worried about me, hoping to find me?
As strange as it might sound, I don’t think there is.
I don’t feel like I’ve ever had this in my life.
There’s this weird tugging at my heart when I look at Caleb and his family.
Jealousy. Not over the fact that he knows about his family and has all these memories, but over the fact that he has people in his life at all. Why do I feel like such a loner?
I’m startled awake by noise com ing from upstairs, and I realize I fell asleep watching a movie on Caleb’s TV.
“Jane? Are you down here?” Caleb calls, his voice becoming clearer. Footsteps barrel down the stairs at lightspeed, and he sighs when he sees me. “Ah, there you are. Are you okay?”
“Aye, matey,” I say, then immediately regret it. Why? Just why? “It’s not like I have anywhere to go. And I’m fine. The meds are helping with the headache, and the eye’s a bit better.”
“Good, good.” He scratches the back of his head. “Listen, I’m sorry I went out without giving you a phone. I left practice early to get you one,” he says, handing me a shiny new smartphone. “It’s ready to use, and I already put my number in it.”
Our gazes cross for a second, and I’m pretty sure that’s genuine concern I see in his eyes. At least, I think it is. Maybe I’m misreading the signals. Can’t really trust my brain these days. “Oh, thank you,” I say, taking the phone. “You didn’t have to do that.”
He rakes a hand through his hair. “Of course I did. It’s unsafe to be left alone without any means of communication.”
“This could have waited for after your practice, though. You’re the captain and judging from all the trophies over there, an important member of the team.”
He grins. “Oh, you looked at my trophies?”
“Well, they’re on display, aren’t they? Plus, you left me here all alone. I had to do some snooping.”
He chuckles, sitting down on the couch. “Fair enough.”
“By the way, do you build these yourself?” I point to the LEGO chess set on the coffee table. “I noticed a few around the house. They look cool.”
“Oh, you really went all in on the snooping, didn’t you?” he says, but there’s a touch of amusement in his tone.
“Don’t worry, I didn’t poke around your floor. Just the remaining eighty percent of the house.”
He laughs. “Phew. Thank you for leaving me some privacy. And to answer your question, yes, I build those. I love LEGO. You buy the box with instructions, and then put the whole model together. It’s incredibly soothing, taking something crumbled and making it whole again. Satisfying.”
I smile. “I think I could like that too.”
“You’re welcome to work on on e, if you want. I have an unopened baseball field set in the first cabinet over there,” he says, pointing to one of the built-in closets.
“No, I wouldn’t want to steal your hobby. You obviously work a lot, and you need the down time,” I tease.
“Oh, come on, Jane. I can always just buy another set.”
I tense when he uses that name. Just when I was starting to feel normal, I’m reminded that I’m just another Jane Doe on this planet.
“What’s wrong? What did I say?” Caleb asks, as if picking up on my mood shift.
I twist my mouth. “It’s just that name—Jane. I hate it. It makes me feel trapped in this persona, the girl who’ll always be in limbo, unable to live her life.”
His mouth opens, then closes it. “I’m sorry. How about we brainstorm a new name for you? Something cool.”
I arch an eyebrow. “Can we even do that? Aren’t I listed as Jane Doe 3000 or whatever?”
“Maybe in the police system, but lots of people go by a different alias, both legally and with their friends and family.”
My shoulders relax. “Yeah, good point. I think I’d like that. But where do we even start? I have no idea how to pick a name. Maybe you should choose.”
“That’s a tough one,” he sa ys, his gaze trapping me with a new intensity. Then, his eyes widen. “Oh wait, I have an idea.” He grabs his phone and types something on the screen. “Knew it. There’s an app for that.”
“Really? How does it work?” I ask, scooching closer to him to see the screen.
His clean cotton smell, infused with a hint of citrus cologne, wraps around me, and just like that, my worries melt away.
It’s crazy how Caleb has that effect on me.
Especially since we’re both certain he’s been a stranger all my life.
“First, we click on a few of these adjectives to describe you, and then it will suggest names to pick from.”
I blow out a puff of air. “That’s easy. Is there one for scratched cornea? Or being of pirate descent?”
He turns to me, and a bright smile breaks onto his face. Oof. Maybe we should add “dimple lover.”
“No. Those are definitely unique to you.” His gaze intensifies again, sending tingles rippling through my belly, a feeling that’s both soothing and uncomfortable at the same time.
“Well, son of a barnacle!” I say instead, and his smile turns into a laugh.
“Let’s see.” He returns his eyes to the screen and picks a few adjectives—bright, cheerful, brave, strong, funny, kind, beautiful.
That last one makes my cheeks bur n so hot, I don’t dare to look up.
“Okay, here are the results. Zaina, Audrey, Margot, Aria, Ellie, and Briana. First impression?”
I scrunch my nose. “Um, I’m not sure. Not a fan of the first one.”
“Me neither. I really like Aria, though. I think it suits you. There’s a kindness about it, but also the fire of someone with resilience. Two things we definitely know about you.”
My chest warms. “Really?”
“Oh, yeah. This is a tough situation, yet you make it look so easy. I can tell you’re a fighter, Aria.”
The name resonates in my brain like an echo, and I smile. “Aye, captain. Looks like we have a new name.”
He offers his hand. “Nice to meet you, Aria.”