Arousing Suspicions: An Amnesia Romance Read online

  “You’re in such a rush, are you sure you’re fine?” He sees my eyes darting around the room, and probably recognizes the look of a hunted animal. His face softens and with it, my heart. He isn’t a bad person. I just… can’t. “Your clothes are in the kitchen, remember? I guess we were in a bit of a hurry last night, too.” He offers me a concerned smile, his eyebrows crinkling. I take a deep breath and almost get back into bed with him, trying to push down my feeling of impending doom. But it’s too late.

  “Right, thanks. Look, I had a really good time. And I think you’re awesome. But maybe it’s better if you just stay my jiu-jitsu teacher for now?” I can’t bear to see his face, so I run out of the room. He doesn’t follow me.

  As I gather my clothes and put them on, my mind spins in circles. In one moment, I want nothing but to stay and spend all day in Kaleb’s arms. In the next moment, I am impatient to be alone, away from other humans who can take down my many walls.

  Chapter 6

  I’m finally back in my dorm room, laying on the floor, panting. All the feelings are coming back. I am not okay. I am unsafe and anxious, and I only made it worse by sleeping with Kaleb last night. It feels like any moment I could realize I’m not awake at all but inside one of my nightmares. It makes me scared to be alone, but more fearful still to leave the security of my room.

  I try to distract myself from monsters surely lurking in the dark with thoughts of last night. What happened wasn’t fair to me, or to him. I’m a selfish person who is a slave to her desires. I can’t even decide if I’ll go back to class, but I think I need to. Something about that gym helped me remember what happened to me better than anything else. And I need that for closure. If I'm honest, maybe I need to see Kaleb, too. He probably deserves some kind of explanation about what went through my head.

  I text him, and we meet in the same café. Was it really only yesterday, the last time we were here? Time and memory are all mixed up for me, not just that night but everything. When Kaleb walks through the door, it feels like I haven’t seen him in years, decades, centuries. I find it difficult to look him in the eye, but I do. Confrontation has never been my strong point. I stand up. I give him an awkward side hug. He sits across from me.

  “You really threw me for a loop this morning, Clara, but you don’t have to explain yourself if you don’t want to.” He doesn’t look angry, just a little bit confused and disappointed. I almost wish he were mad; I hate to disappoint anyone.

  “I think I do owe you that,” I answer, truthfully, it’s not his fault I wasn’t ready for what we did, “Or if not, I owe me that. I’m just… not in a good place right now. I feel such a connection to you, and I think you feel it, too. I can see things moving so quickly between us, and it terrifies me. After what happened, I’m just in no position to devote myself to a new relationship. Hell, I need to at the very least remember exactly what happened to me. Here I go being all cheesy again, but it really has nothing to do with you, Kaleb. You’re wonderful and gentle, and kind. Is that okay with you? That I’m not ready? I’m sorry, I do wish it could be different.” I’ve gone and babbled on again, haven’t I?

  He offers me a smile, both sad and bemused, “You don’t need to be sorry, Clara,” oh God, the way he says my name makes me want to jump across the table, hug him tightly, and embrace him as deeply as possible. I shake my head and continue listening, “If anything, I should apologize. I never should have you invited you home, or let things go as far as they did. It all just seemed so natural and evident and like… almost like we had no choice like we were just being swept along by our destiny. But of course, we did have a choice. And the choice you are making now is okay, too. I respect you for making it and for knowing yourself well enough to know what you are ready for.” My heart breaks at this. I feel the same way. “I have to admit I’m a little disappointed,” he goes on, “but I understand completely where you are. I do have one request though.”

  I don’t answer, just raise my eyebrows at him in question.

  “Can we stay friends?”

  I laugh, taken aback by the question. “Of course! ” I exclaim, “I was going to ask you if I could keep coming to your class. I feel like it’s really good for me.”

  “Good,” he answers, “it would be a pleasure to have you there.”

  Chapter 7

  I show up for class the next night, and it isn’t as awkward as I thought it would be. Kaleb treats me the same as the other students in the class; that is with special care and attention to detail. It’s clear how passionate he is about teaching from the way he makes sure everyone gets his attention. He makes sure that I execute each move with precision and that I’m not sloppy. Last class, we only practiced and learned the basics. This class is the same of course, with a review of what we learned last time as well as a few added tips. At the end of class, Kaleb informs us that next week we will be sparring for the first time. I feel my stomach drop. Will I fight or flee? Will my reflexes be too fast for my brain to catch up, viewing my sparring partner as a real threat and possibly really hurting them, or at least trying to? Will I forget where I am and flashback to that night? Kaleb catches my eye and sees me gulping breaths of air. He approaches and puts a friendly hand on my arm.

  “It’s gonna be okay,” he says, his mouth close to my ear. I can feel the heat from his breath on my neck. It calms me as it simultaneously fills me with desire. I’m disappointed when he takes his hand away.

  “Thanks,” I say, finally feeling like air is able to make its way into my lungs.

  I walk out of the building, ruminating over the fact that I didn’t remember anything tonight. It’s disappointing. I feel something tickling at the edge of my consciousness, but I can’t figure out how to access it. Across from the center is a small park. It has a sprawling oak tree, a couple of benches, and a place for dogs to run. Despite the fact that I am outside, alone, and kind of itching to be back behind a closed door, I approach a bench and sit down. Closing my eyes, I take some deep breaths. As I relax into my breath, an image comes to me: I’m on a stretcher, being loaded into an ambulance. I’m telling them I’m okay. I squint into the distance, and I see a figure, watching, just far enough so that I can’t make out anything specific about him.

  “Hey,” I start to point him out to the EMTs, but I’m fighting to keep my eyes open, and he is already gone.

  I’m not sure exactly what to make of this. I knew I had arrived at the hospital in an ambulance, so somebody must have called 911. I have the distinct impression that it was the person standing in the distance. But why didn’t they come forward? They could have clarified the situation, given something for the police to go off of. Why not help? I come to the conclusion that they must have hurt me at first. This person must have been part of whatever happened. They must have felt guilty enough to make sure I turned out okay, but not guilty enough to make an effort to stop it. I try to concentrate and see the figure’s face, but it won’t come to me.

  I close my eyes again, feeling something else tickling just out of reach. It’s the same memory I had during the first class, of Ana leaving me outside of the bar. I remember giving her a look as if to say, “are you sure this is what you want?” and she nodded at me, giving me a small thumbs up as we turned in opposite directions. I remember, again, tipsily walking down the road, when I hear footsteps approaching quickly behind me. So that was a real memory, and not just Kaleb approaching me in the gym. I spin around, my instincts telling me to be afraid, ready to fight or flee, but it’s Ana, giggling and running towards me. Her dark curls are bouncing along with her.

  I remember our short conversation,

  “I thought you were going home with that guy,” I say.

  “Nah, he kind of sucked. I’d rather crash at yours. Do you mind?”

  “Of course not!” I answer, and we link our arms together and continue on our way.

  I open my eyes, more confused than ever. Ana and I weren’t together! I thought we parted ways at the bar. What is she doi
ng there, in my memory? Why won’t she answer my phone calls?

  My heart feels strained at this memory that let me so clearly see her face, her smile. I miss her. Ana and I have been friends since the first day of college orientation. She saw me sitting on my own, buried deep in a book as I waited for the activities of the day to begin. “I love Neverwhere,” she told me, indicating my book. I had looked up in surprise, a bit taken aback to be awoken from my reverie. We had sat there talking about out favorite books and instantly had an easy friendship. We were in many of the same classes and shared a lot of common interests. She’s from out of state, so for any short holidays, she would come home with me to my mom’s place. We often talked about how we don’t know how we survived without each other for the first 18 years of our lives.

  It’s dawning on me exactly how strange it is that she hasn’t been in touch. It isn’t like her at all… a ball of anxiety forms in my stomach as I realize that I should probably be worried.

  I go home and take out a little notebook, writing down everything I know, as well as the things I don’t:

  -I leave the bar at the same time as Ana, but she goes in another direction (what time was it?)

  -Apparently, Ana decided not to go home with that guy, and we were together.

  -Something happens, I was mugged, or worse, no one knows, or no one will tell me. I’m left with a cut on my arm, nasty bruises up and down my legs and arms, and an aching head. These physical symptoms quickly fade, except for the headaches, which can rear their ugly head with seemingly no pattern at all.

  -Where the hell is Ana during all of this?!

  -Someone calls the ambulance, but they don’t come forward.

  -The ambulance takes me to the hospital, the police try to question me, but eventually leave.

  That’s it. That’s all I know right now. It feels so full of gaps. What happened to me? What happened to Ana, and why won’t she answer me? Who is the person in the shadows, and why didn’t they come forward?

  I pick up my phone, calling Ana’s phone number for what must be the 50th time. Still no answer. For the first time, it occurs to me that maybe something happened to her. My eyes prickle with tears. Wouldn’t someone have told me something if she wasn’t okay? She has to be okay, right?

  Unable to handle all these feelings, I call my mom. Talking to her always makes me feel better. She picks up on the first ring.

  “Hey, sweetie, how are you? I’ve been thinking about you, but I didn’t want to bother you too much.”

  Just hearing her voice makes my eyes tear up. Everything is such a mess, but her voice calms me, letting my heart beat a little bit slower. Nothing in the world can be so bad as long as I have my mom.

  “I’m not so good, mom,” I start, trying to keep the quiver out of my voice, not wanting to worry her too much. I talk about how scared I am, all of the time, and how I started going to the jiu-jitsu class.

  “Are you sure that’s a good idea?” she asks, “Did you make sure with your doctor? It could be bad for your head. Your body needs time to heal, Clara!”

  I reassure her that I have my doctor’s permission and that it really is helping. I tell her that it’s helping me piece together what happened that night. I tell her about Kaleb, too. She doesn’t mind, she never does when I tell her about guys, she only expresses more concern for my well-being. “I just want what’s best for you, baby. I’m proud of you for making the decision you felt was best.”

  Finally, I tell her what I remembered about Ana. “Is she okay, mom? Why isn’t she answering me?”

  “Oh, Clara,” she says, but doesn’t continue.

  “Mom,” I all but whine, “what are you not telling me? I’m so scared. I’m so confused! Please, just tell me. I’m going crazy. I don’t know if I can trust my memories! Was she even with me? Is she just giving me space?”

  “I’m… not supposed to,” she says, regretfully, “the doctors say it’s better for you to remember by yourself. They say it could be bad for your brain if I tell you…” she pauses for a long time, and I wait. I can tell she’s making a decision. “She’s… not doing so well. She’s in the hospital. Maybe a visit wouldn’t be such a bad idea.”

  I’m crying hard now, and I feel so selfish! I can’t believe I felt like such a bad thing had happened to me when it was Ana who was in bad shape, when it was Ana who needed me right now. A part of me is saying that it isn’t my fault, but what kind of best friend doesn’t remember that? I feel the immediate need to go to her.

  “Thank you, mom, for telling me,” we say I love you and both hang up.

  Chapter 8

  Everything is white, clinical and quiet. It’s visiting hours, but there aren’t many people in the halls. I knock on the door the nurse indicated and hear a quiet “come in” from the other side. It’s Ana’s mom, her dark eyes small and rimmed in red, she looks like she hasn’t had many hours of sleep over the past few days. I pull her small frame in for a long hug.

  “I’ll leave you two alone for a while,” she says.

  Ana’s eyes are closed. I learned when I called her mom to see if I could come, that Ana’s in a coma. She’s stable but hasn’t woken up yet. They don’t know how long it might be. Even though I don’t know if she can hear me, I try not to cry at the sight of my best friend all hooked up to machines. I sit in the chair by her bed and hold her hand. I lay my head on the bed and look at her. Her curly dark hair is fanned out on the pillow, and the rest of her face looks peaceful, just like she’s sleeping. It reminds me of all the times we crashed in each other’s dorm room, and she fell asleep before me. I chuckle to myself, an image coming to me of her falling asleep while studying and using a textbook as a pillow. I want to shake her, tell her it’s time to wake up and get to class. The only thing different about the face I know so well is the fading bruises. She has a black eye and purple shading high on her left cheek. It reminds me a little of the zombie makeup we’ve done together for Halloween. This isn’t for a fun party, though.

  “I’m sorry for being mad at you,” I whisper, “I didn’t know.” I squeeze her hand.

  The next thing I know, a nurse is gently patting me on the shoulder “Time to go,” she says, “visiting hours are over.”

  I rub my eyes, the world feeling overly bright. I give Ana a kiss on the forehead and suppress a laugh. She would have hated the cheesy-ness of that.

  Chapter 9

  The rest of the weekend passes slowly. I spend it studying and doing homework. I don’t sleep much because every time I close my eyes I see Ana lying prone on her hospital bed or images from my nightmares. When I do sleep, it is unrestful and full of horror. I have the dream of being surrounded by a circle of men again, only this time the only face is Kaleb’s. I curse my mind, conflating the feelings I have for Kaleb with something horrible that happened to me. I dream that we’re having sex again, and he’s somehow both the bad guy and the hero in these dreams.

  The dream about Ana’s funeral comes back in a few different ways, too. Sometimes she really is dead, and everyone blames me for it. In one of them, I’m going to get sent to jail for manslaughter. Those ones are maybe the worst because they feel the closest to the truth. I fear her parents blame me. I blame me, a little. I’m sure I could have done more. I should have been able to save her, I should have been able to save both of us.

  I usually wake up shaking and scared, unable to put myself back to sleep. So I busy myself reading and watching Netflix shows, wishing I could do those things with my best friend.

  I’m anxious for it to be Monday, for it to be time to fight back. I’ve felt powerless all weekend. I hope that if I can exert myself enough, I won’t have bad dreams again. And, if I’m being honest, I’m excited to see Kaleb. I know I’ve made the right decision in choosing not to be with him right now, but I still find his presence calming. He is a reminder that there are still good things in the world and in my life. He anchors me to the now, reminding me that the only way is forward. I hope the strange role he
’s played in my dreams won’t affect how I feel about him in person.

  Monday evening takes its time but finally, arrives. I breathe in the acrid smell of long dried sweat, with pleasure. The raucous of running children, grunting athletes, and quiet pop music in the background comes together like a symphony. A symphony that evokes what it’s like to take your destiny into your own hands.

  The class passes uneventfully, Kaleb adding a few moves here and there, reminding us of the rules of sparring. There will be no hits to the back of the head, kidneys, knees, or spine. We shouldn’t use our full amount of force. There will be no picking an opponent up and throwing them to the floor. Not that I’d be strong enough to do that anyways. That’s pretty much it. Other than that, we are pretty much free to use whatever methods we want.

  I’m paired with a woman a few years older than me, but about the same size. We begin in a standing position, our knees and spines bent, keeping our center of gravity low to the ground. We circle each other, eyes locked, waiting for a moment of inattention or distraction on our opponent's part. We each make a few attempts at bringing the other down but are unsuccessful. She lunges for my leg and succeeds, but I’ve learned by now to keep my balance in check. I don’t fall, but instead, grab the back of her shirt. We hop awkwardly until I’m able to get enough momentum to fall on top of her. My goal is to pin both of her shoulder blades to the ground for 3 seconds. We struggle, but I am still in the position of superior power. It’s a heady feeling, this impression of having power over another human. I’m probably a minute or so from winning when I have a moment of blankness, and suddenly I am no longer on the mat with my opponent, but back to that night. I see a group of men at the edge of my vision “slut” they spit at me. I feel the scales shifting, she is on top of me, and I am being slammed to the ground, I hear Kaleb count to three. I’ve lost. It all happened so quickly, my memory wasn’t more than a couple of seconds. It was really just a flash.