Chapter Two #2
“Right. I went to open my garage door the other day and punched the correct code into the keypad without hesitation. Except I only had it installed about a year and a half ago.” She lifted one shoulder. “So, sometimes things just…come back.”
“That’s crazy,” Becca said. “The whole thing is so weird, am I right?”
“Definitely not something I recommend,” Rowan said, adding a small chuckle. “Zero stars.”
“Are there other things?” Jasmine asked. “Like, do you get headaches?”
“I do. Here and there.” Rowan nodded. “And I get tired easily. I sleep a lot. The fatigue is normal, they tell me, and will ease up with time. I’m supposed to nap when I feel the need, like earlier.”
There was a beat of silence before Justine said, “Well, you just let us know what you need this week, okay? We’re all here for you.” Murmurs of agreement went around the fire.
“Thanks, guys. I appreciate that.” She glanced up at Stevie, who gave her a smile and a subtle nod. She’d been nervous to talk about it all, but that hadn’t been bad. These were friends of hers, people who cared about her. She’d had no reason to be hesitant.
They stayed around the fire for another hour or more, until tummies were full of s’mores, and yawns started to become frequent. Justine started the exodus when she pushed to her feet, saying, “Welp. I’m beat.”
One by one, they each picked up whatever was around them—sticks, empty bottles, glasses—and headed up to the house.
Stevie and Lizzie used the sticks to spread the coals around in the fire pit until there were only some glowing embers.
Rowan walked behind Jazzy, trudging up the hill that led them to the deck, and suddenly, her brain zapped her with a flash.
“But why? I don’t understand.” Her own voice, cracking with tears.
“Because, Rowan. I don’t want this any longer.” Evie. God, it was Evie.
“What did I do?” She could see her own hand grabbing on to Evie’s, then looking up at her face. Evie’s face, hard—or trying to be.
“Nothing, I just—” Evie looked out over the lake. This lake.
“This doesn’t make any sense.” Rowan was desperate. That was the only way to describe the memory. She sounded desperate.
Evie’s eyes closed just before she said the words. Just before she uttered the six words that had destroyed Rowan’s world. “I don’t love you anymore.”
Rowan gasped, back in the present. Jazzy turned around. “Hey. You okay?”
Rowan bent over, hands on her knees, and felt like she couldn’t catch her breath.
Jazzy was next to her in a flash, hand on her back, bending over with her.
“Rowan? What do you need?” She stood back up and called to Stevie, whose running footsteps Rowan could hear, even as she stood there with her eyes squeezed closed.
“Hey.” Stevie was there. Rowan could smell her cologne. “You good?”
Rowan nodded, cleared her throat, and stood back up. “Yeah.” She inhaled deeply, held it in, then let it out slowly, counting to four in her head with each step, the way her therapist had taught her. “Yeah. Just…got light-headed for a minute there.”
“Okay.” Stevie grasped her hand. “Let’s get you inside.”
Evie had broken up with her here. Not at this house, but at this lake. No wonder her mother hadn’t wanted her to come on this trip.
She didn’t say anything to Stevie. She wanted some time to sit with the memory that had just returned, see if she could fill in more blanks.
That was how it worked sometimes. Like the memory was a black-and-white line drawing, and once one bit of color showed up, the rest would start to fill in, absorb, like paper soaking it up, until it became a full, complete picture.
By the time they got up to the house, she felt slightly better, despite the churning of her stomach.
“All good?” Becca asked, clearly seeing the worry on Jazzy’s face.
Rowan nodded and let go of Stevie. “Fine. It happens sometimes. My head can be”—she waved a hand around above it—“still a little bit weird. It’s fine. I’m fine.”
They were all looking at her now, concern on their faces as they exchanged glances with each other.
“Guys. Seriously. I’m okay.” She made herself laugh. “This will probably happen again, so you’re all gonna have to suck it up.”
Slowly, nods started to occur, little sounds of agreement. “As long as you’re okay,” Justine said.
Rowan crossed her heart and held up her hand in a Girl Scout salute. “Promise. This is just part of my healing.”
That seemed to do it. The group broke up and got busy.
The kitchen was cleaned, lights were turned off, and one by one, they all headed to their rooms. Rowan realized she was currently the only one upstairs—the extra bedroom up there was clearly going to be Claire’s if she showed, and Rowan would have to deal with that later—but tonight, she was grateful for that.
With each step upward, the mask she’d donned for her friends slipped another inch until she was in her room, slumped on the bed, and could finally let herself cry.
I don’t love you anymore.
She’d fallen off a ladder. Hairline fracture to her skull. Retrograde amnesia. She’d needed months to recover. But it all looked like child’s play compared to those six words.
I don’t love you anymore.
God, how had she survived that?