Jake and I barely speak as we return to his apartment. The whole trip home, I can still feel Ryan's eyes burning into my back, like I did as I walked away from him with Jake beside me, and it doesn't make me feel like chatting.
Jake seems just as preoccupied, but once we're inside, safely in the only home I remember as an adult, he turns to me and says, "How are you?"
I make a sound that's like a laugh with all its humor amputated. "I don't know."
"Yeah. I can imagine." He looks at me a moment then tentatively opens his arms to me.
I probably shouldn't, but I step forward and wrap my arms around him as he cuddles me close.
His hand slides over my hair, but it's a sweet gesture not a sexy one. Even my limited experience makes that clear, and if it hadn't his next words would have done the job. "I don't think I'm going to get to be your first remembered time."
On one level it's weird that he's pointing it out, but I get it too. He doesn't want me to wonder what he's thinking.
"I guess not," I say, then realize something.
I don't have to go back to Ryan.
Yes, we're married. Before I left he told me he'd brought our wedding album to Toronto at the cop's suggestion and would show it to me tomorrow. I both want and don't want to see it. I'll be so disappointed if it doesn't bring my memories back.
But marriages end up all the time, for far worse reasons than 'I don't remember anything about you'. Everyone's assuming I'll troop obediently off to Ottawa eventually but I have the power to say no to that.
But I'm not ready to say no, not until I know more about Ryan and about my other self. I'll learn about him tomorrow; tonight is about Donna.
Jake smoothes my hair again and says, "So, what do you want to do tonight?"
"Play with my phone, of course."
We both laugh and he releases me, but I'm not joking. "I need to know why Donna left and who she is. I bet some of that's in the phone, and in the pouch Ryan gave me."
"Could be. Well, do you want help or should I sculpt while you check it all out?"
I look up at him and my throat tightens. "Jake, you've been so amazing to me. I can't thank you enough."
He gives me a sad smile. "You have thanked me. By helping Hannah, and by encouraging me to do more with my sculptures, and also you've said thank you about a thousand times since Hannah called you on it. So I think we're good."
Our eyes lock, and I know he wants to kiss me. I want him to.
But we both pull away at once.
He shakes his head. "Go sit on the couch where I can't reach you. You're too cute for your own good, Donna."
I flinch. "Call me Kate. Please. I don't know who Donna is yet."
He nods. "I will call you... Spartacus."
I have to laugh. "Why, exactly?"
"Why not?"
I settle onto the couch with my leather pouch and roll my eyes. "Fine. I'll call you... um... damn it." I can't think of anything fast enough.
He laughs. "'Damn it' is a weird name, but whatever you say, Spartacus."
I giggle, then sober as he moves my sculpture of his hand out of the way. "I guess I won't get to finish that."
"Why not?" He uncovers his own sculpture. "Ryan will be here to see you on the weekends, but we can still hang out during the week, can't we? You can come over any time and work on it."
Part of me wants to ask Ryan for permission on this front, and the rest is infuriated at the thought. "Yeah, I guess you're right. Good. I'd like to see it done. Okay, let me check out this stuff."
"Got it."
A peaceful silence ensues while Jake moves around his sculpture and I explore the pouch. It turns out to be more of a purse, both a wallet and a phone case, and probably expensive given how lovely and soft the leather is. I set the phone aside and check every pocket and card slot, finding a few things that don't seem to mean anything and several things that might.
First, my own business card. Donna Merrill, founder, Merrill Media Consultants. It's strange for me to see it, but carrying my own card isn't that weird except that there's another pocket in the wallet that holds ten pristine cards. This one was folded in half and stuffed down under where the phone lived. On the back, in my handwriting, I see "Bruce Williams, 14-73-13". It can't be a birthday, since none of the numbers could represent a month. Locker combination? And who's Bruce?
Great, more questions.
I pick up the phone and start a list of questions to get answered. I have tons, but rather than type them all in I start with "Bruce?" and figure I'll fill in the others as I go.
The second weird thing in the wallet is a slip of paper, probably from a fortune cookie, which reads, "Live with grace." It's a nice sentiment, but why carry it around? I consider adding it to the list of questions but figure it's just something that touched Donna.
Finally, I have a photograph that appears to be of nothing but fur. It's pretty fur, all different shades of brown, but why take a picture of it? This I do add to the list, because Ryan might recognize the fur and know why I have the photo in my wallet.
I lean back and sigh, and Jake says, "Found anything good?"
"Some guy's name and a bunch of numbers, a fortune cookie fortune, and a picture of fur."
He raises an eyebrow at the last, and I show him the picture.
"Yup, looks like fur. Anything good in the phone?"
"Just going there now."
It doesn't take long. Nothing in the notes application except my newly added list of questions. The email program hasn't been set up, maybe because Donna's emails would be too full of juicy celebrity details to risk having on an easily-lost phone, so I add the account Jake helped me create. Donna's calendar is full of meetings for work and her charity, but I'm glad to see an appointment every Friday afternoon for a massage. It's good she's been doing something to relax and have fun, since everything else seems to be work-related.
The contacts program holds a few names but I don't recognize any except Ryan and my brother. I shoot off a quick email to Ethan, since there's no phone number listed for him, letting him know my ECT wiped my memory and asking if we can talk on the phone sometime soon. Maybe he can tell me more about me and Ryan.
The only thing of any interest is the Bubbly Words game. Ryan didn't think she played it, which seems weird. It's hardly the kind of thing she'd need to hide, unless maybe she thought Ryan would tease her for it. But what would it matter if he did?
I start it up and am soon searching the screen for a word. When I find "apple", I tap the bubbles for each letter and the word vanishes, giving me ten points. Not bad. I keep going, and realize I probably have played it a lot. I'm quick and efficient at moving around the screen searching for words, and I almost never miss when I try to tap a letter.
After a while, Jake says, "So?"
"Just playing Bubbly Words. It's fun. But otherwise, nothing cool here except Ethan's email address."
"So write to him. Maybe he'll know more about your husband."
There's a faint hint of a sneer in his voice at the last word. "Jake, come on. Ryan seems okay."
"Sure. If you like polished preppy boys. But I guess you do."
The sneer is now fully developed, and I find myself half out of my seat before I know it. I have to get out of--
Wait. Why am I running away? He doesn't like Ryan. I couldn't have expected him to. So what's making me want to flee?
My face must be showing my confusion because Jake drops the tone when he says, "Kate, you all right?"
I shake my head slowly. "Every time I get upset, I try to run away. Have you noticed?"
"You were going to run now? Because of what I said?" He comes over and kneels in front of me. "I'm sorry. It's just strange, all of this. I don't want to like him and I don't want you to like him, but he's your husband so you should. But I don't like that either."
I sigh. "I don't like any of this either, Jake. And I don't want to run away any more."
But I'm lying. I do want to. I want to be entirely alone, somewhere that nobody could ever find me. I want to be alone where I can be me, without anyone else's influence.
Could I ever run that far?