Chapter 6
Six
Present Day
Just because I moved to Tesoro doesn’t mean my doctors did.
Ugh.
So, here I am in Reno. And while, sure, there are close to three hundred thousand people living in the biggest little city in the world, and one would think they could go to the doctor, grab a dirty Dr Pepper at a local shop, and make it home without seeing anyone they know, one would be wrong.
I ran into someone who is apparently my coworker from Sierra View Elementary. She knew about my accident, about my amnesia even, but she couldn’t ignore me either.
Oof. Nice people. Sometimes they are the worst. I don’t know you. And you know that I don’t know you. Could you just pretend that you don’t know me?
But she couldn’t. She asked about my head and how I was feeling and if I was coming back to school.
She explained that she taught just down the hall from me.
She wanted to draw me a map. Which is how I ended up locked in a gas station bathroom, breathing into a small disposable bag for used tampons. It’s clean, but still—ew.
I told the principal at Sierra View that I wouldn’t be back.
Why couldn’t she have accepted my resignation and told everyone about it?
Along with—and never ever speak to Rosalie again.
But my principal told no one to stay away from me, and she insisted I take my medical leave and think about staying on.
My job—that I don’t see how I’m qualified for—is still available to me.
Dr. Strouse says my training is still there.
The whole semantic memory, episodic memory thing.
He says that I am still qualified to be an elementary school teacher.
But my brain cannot wrap around such things.
I just need to make my resignation final.
But that would require talking to Principal Shew again.
How did I end up in elementary school anyway? I was a history secondary education major. And yet I was teaching second grade.
How?
I could ask my family or Fran—they’d tell me, as long as I’m asking. But it’s not worth risking another panic attack.
And Dr. Strouse has no idea. He wasn’t around for that part of my life either.
However, my checkup went well. I suppose.
He said that while my memory has made no progress, my CT scan looks healthy.
I suppose that’s good, but then he skimmed over the none-of-my-memories-have-returned part pretty quick.
Holy yes, I am in major need of a dirty Dr Pepper. I’m not getting diet as originally planned. And a gas station fountain isn’t going to cut it. Nope. I need it fully leaded, extra dirty, and professionally mixed.
It feels somewhat like the stars have aligned and the planets are all in order just to make my life miserable when I pull into the Soda Shack to see the large sign on their front window: DRIVE-THROUGH CLOSED, PLEASE COME INSIDE.
“Inside?” I say aloud, and then I groan, dramatic and obnoxious, but I already had to deal with what’s-her-name from the elementary school. Still, my cry is so loud that the man walking into the little soda shop peers back at me still sitting inside my car.
I was never upset about going into places before.
Seeing humans didn’t bother me. Speaking to strangers wasn’t a big deal.
That was then. Those days are long gone.
I pull in a sharp breath. “I can be friendly. I can be cordial. I can give a little grace where it’s needed.
” Grace: “The poor soda shack has a broken drive-through. That sucks for them.”
Except, you know what sucks more?
Rosalie going inside that soda shack simply to get her well-deserved, fully leaded, extra, extra dirty Dr Pepper.
“Ugh.” I groan a very non-grace-giving groan.
Again. “Fine! I’ll go in. Because I am in dire need of caffeine.
Because I deserve it. Because a broken drive-through doesn’t scare me!
” Except that it does. “I can be a grown up. A twenty-six-year-old grown up. Who needs twenty-one to twenty-five anyway? Not me. I can go in and get my drink—maybe I’ll get two.
Because don’t I deserve two? I’ll drink them both before I get back to Tesoro, and then guess what?
I’m getting another at the gas station by our house!
Dr Pepper for dinner, Universe. What do you think of that? ”
My throat hurts from yelling, and I’m out of breath. Thanks a lot, Soda Shack!
So much for grace.
Before I can chicken out, I swing my car door open, snatch up my purse, and exit the Corolla I bought sometime in the last six years. I slam the door closed and storm inside, so pissed off at the world, I almost feel bad for the clerk behind the counter.
Pissed is better than panicked.
However, my fire fizzles out the minute I enter the shop. Because the man who peered back at me when I was in the privacy of my vehicle groaning wasn’t just a man—but freaking Robert Pattinson. As in the engineer, not the vampire. As in my boyfriend—err, as in my ex-boyfriend.
I assume he’s an engineer by now. In my mind, he’s one year away.
I should leave. I should turn and walk out of this shop and never look back.
I should do all that.
However, I don’t. I can’t. I’m looking at Robert and I’m not panicking. Tall, dark, perfectly white-teethed Robert. Robert who loved taking me to museums. Robert who nibbled on my ear every chance he got. Robert who still owns a piece of my heart.
His hair is longer, and he now has a beard. A beard! It’s so full, I can’t help the bubble of laughter that leaves my lips.
I slap a hand over my mouth just as he turns his head to see me.
“Rosalie?” he says, facing me.
I drop my hand to my side and hiccup.
Nice, Rosalie.
My heart patters and patters, but not in a way that makes me want to run, more like I’m worried it may leap from my chest and right into Robert’s arms. “Hello, Robert.”
“Wow,” he says, his eyes roving over me. “You look great.”
My cheeks tickle with a smile that I can’t stop, and I peer down at my plain gray T-shirt, whitewash jeans, and white tennis shoes. Oh yeah, I look amazing. I’ve topped off this not-so-stylish look with zero make-up and a ponytail.
“Thanks,” I say, attempting to remember my manners. “So do you.” I clear my throat. “Look great, I mean.” And mamma mia, he does. Gray suit, blue tie, and that short, well-groomed beard. My fingers prick, wanting to feel the bristles of that beard.
His lips perk up with my compliment, and that dimple I always loved presses into his cheek. “I’m just running to a work meeting.”
I nod. “Engineer,” I say. As far as I know, Robert has no idea what’s happened to me. He doesn’t know that I don’t remember our past. And while Fran mentioned that it was messy—before I shut her up—I don’t remember any mess. I just remember him.
His brows lift. “Yes. And you’re teaching.”
“Oh.” I swallow and pull in a breath. “Yessss. I am. Because that’s my job. Sort of.”
“Sort of?” He laughs. “You won teacher of the year for your district last year.” He grins at me and my chest flutters. Man, I love that grin.
“I did?” I say, registering his words. “I mean, yes, I did.” Robert’s keeping tabs on me—I don’t hate that.
“Well, congrats, you must be good at what you do.”
I shrug because I have no idea if I’m good at what I do, and I don’t know about any teacher of the year thingy.
Weird. I won an award? Surely it was amongst my things when Grammy and I moved.
But I never noticed it. “I—maybe, I might be good. You could ask the kids.” I bark out a forced laugh.
Because I have completely forgotten how to be a human.
“I’m on medical leave.” Medical leave? Why would I say that?
If he doesn’t know that my brain is broken, I’m not about to share.
Robert’s gaze narrows and his brows cinch together in confusion. “Did you have a baby or something?”
“A baby?” I bellow loud enough that the couple in line ahead of us turns around and the cashier pauses her tapping of the register. Even the guy making drinks stops working to peek over at us. I cinch my brows and whisper, “Do I look like I just had a baby?”
“No,” Robert says, his cheeks flushing. “I didn’t mean—you’re not…” He holds a hand out toward my body.
“Not what?”
“You don’t— There’s usually that after bump—” He coughs. “But you look great. You look very healthy. So, baby was the only thing that came to mind.” His brows lift, asking for more.
I exhale a shaky breath. “Right. I am healthy.” I try to laugh, but it’s too difficult. I should have let the man think I’d just given birth. “I… had a cold.” I shrug.
“A cold?” he says, looking at me skeptically.
“Not just a cold. But the flu. Mega flu. Picture sneezing, coughing, diarrhea. The works. It was bad.” Did I just ask this man to picture me with diarrhea? I widen my gaze, my heart thrumming, and purse my lips. I inwardly tell myself to SHUT UP.
“But it’s summer. Isn’t school out?”
“Oh. Well. Yes. This was before summer. Like you said, I’m a healthy girl. Now.” And for some insane reason, I choose this moment to pat my stomach—you know the one that doesn’t have an “after bump,” whatever that is. The one that has never carried a child in its womb.
“That’s… great.” Robert must be thrilled our relationship is no more.
But I’m melancholy. I’m standing in front of Robert Pattinson, my Robert, and it’s awkward.
I hate this.
It hurts.
And then, I see the gold band on his left hand. “Oh.” My breath hitches and my stomach plummets. “You’re— You are—” I point to his hand.
“Yeah. Three years now.” His brows cinch together. “I thought you knew.”
“No,” I say, but then maybe I did. “Is she—”
“Margo,” he says, and his jaw clenches. It’s hard for him to say her name.
“I’m sure she’s lovely,” I say.
And while I’m dying inside, I am full of politeness on the outside. It’s an award-winning performance. So, why does Robert look confused again? “You realize I married that Margo, right?” He scratches his head. “I was so sure you knew.”
I smile and clamp my mouth closed so that I don’t say anything stupid again.
Since I vowed silence—two seconds ago—I shrug.
Fran is only allowed to tell me things when I have asked.
And I will be asking about Margo. Why does Robert sound so cryptic?
Because our breakup was messy? Because I know Margo?
Robert orders his chai tea, then stands to the side while I place my order. He’s brought up Margo, and now apparently there is nothing more for us to say to one another.
“Two extra-large dirty Dr Peppers,” I tell the cashier.
“Extra large,” Robert utters to my left.
I force a grin for the worker behind the counter. “Make them extra dirty.”