After breakfast, Ryan and I go out to find me a short-term furnished apartment. He likes the sixth one we see. I preferred the third, but he thought we should keep looking since it wasn't in the best neighborhood. True, but it was bright and airy and colorful and I felt comfortable in it. The sixth one is okay too, although I don't like it as much because it's all neutral colors and the windows are smaller, but since he really likes it and it's closer to Hannah's place I don't put up a fight.
Once the papers are signed, we go to Jake's to pick up my stuff. While I didn't think Jake should have to leave his place, I'm glad he did. It would be too weird to have him there. I still like him and I don't want the two of them together if I can help it.
We leave everything in my new apartment, and Ryan promises to bring me some of my clothes from Ottawa when he comes back next weekend, then we head onto the street and he says, "I'll show you where MMC is in Toronto. That might help."
"MMC?"
He smiles. "Sorry. Merrill Media Consultants. Your company."
My company. I'm still having trouble getting my head around that. "Tell me about it, okay?"
He does, as we take the subway then walk for a few blocks along Queen Street. Apparently I maintain a large team of consultants in Ottawa and smaller groups in Montreal and Vancouver and Toronto. We specialize in media presence for celebrities, singers and movie stars and the like, helping them decide what they should say and how they should say it, and especially guiding them when they're involved in some sort of scandal.
"I must have some great gossip," I say when he's finished, then wince. "I mean, at the time. When I remembered. You know."
He pats my shoulder. "I do know. And you did but you tended to keep it to yourself. You only occasionally told me stories, when they were too good not to share, but you definitely didn't tell anyone else. You keep secrets really well."
He looks sad. Of course he does. His wife planned how to escape from him and he had no idea she was going to go.
"Sorry," I say awkwardly.
He turns to look at me. "Why?"
"For keeping too many secrets."
He studies me for a long moment, then shakes his head, giving me a forced smile. "Didn't we talk about you not needing to apologize to me?"
I scratch my head and try to look clueless. "I don't remember. Did we?"
He looks alarmed for an instant then gets it and rolls his eyes. "Very funny. But seriously. No more. Anyhow, here's your building. Want to go in?"
I shake my head at once, looking up at what was clearly once a lovely old house before it became office space. "I'd feel weird. And what if someone recognized me?"
He nods. "True. Well, if someone comes out I'll say we have a meeting and we'll take off, so don't worry about it. Just take all the time you want from out here, okay?"
I run my eyes over the building, top to bottom and side to side. It's gorgeous, and I'm glad my other self picked it, but I know nothing about it. There's not even a prickle of recognition inside me.
At last, I shake my head. "Nothing."
He pats my shoulder. "No worries. You didn't spend much time here so I guess it's not a surprise this didn't work. Something will, though."
I hope he's right.
"Ready for lunch?"
I am, so he leads me toward a restaurant he knows a few blocks away.
As we walk, I say, "So what's happening with my business now? Is it still running?"
He nods. "You had very few clients yourself, since you needed the time to monitor everyone else. Your assistant Nadine is the only one at MMC who knows you disappeared. I didn't want to risk your business by telling too many people but I also didn't want to risk it by telling nobody. She's completely trustworthy so I knew I could tell her and not have anyone else find out."
I'm confused. "But wasn't my disappearance on the news?"
"No. You have a private detective on retainer, who helps you out when your clients need something or someone investigated, and I had him looking for you."
"Why didn't you tell the police right away?"
"I couldn't chance what that might do to MMC. If you'd just gone away to clear your head for a bit or something I didn't want to splash your name everywhere. I knew you'd intended to leave, since you set up the plan so carefully, so I wasn't worried you'd been abducted. The detective is great so I figured he'd find you in no time. He searched Vancouver for you and got nothing, and that worried me, then late last week he suggested that maybe the ticket was a fake. I'd never even thought of that, so at that point I had to get Mark Keyes involved."
"Who?"
He shakes his head. "Sorry. He's a cop you've worked with in the past to keep your clients' mishaps out of the papers. He found out the Vancouver ticket was faked and then started searching other databases until he found you yesterday morning. And I took the rest of the day and today off work and here I am."
Yes, you are. "What do you do?"
"Small firm acquisitions. We watch for little technology companies with great ideas and buy them out. I'm a lawyer."
I'd been right when I first saw him. "Okay. And is MMC okay now? Without me, I mean?"
"Nadine had your clients transferred to other consultants and informed them that you'd taken on a new client and needed to work with him full-time but that their new consultant had been hand-picked by you. She got them calmed down and willing to stay with the company, and told the other consultants some story so they wouldn't wonder where you were. She's great at that sort of thing. Very soothing. The consultants largely worked independently, so they're just carrying on with that."
So it doesn't matter that I left. The business runs fine without me.
When I say this Ryan shakes his head at once. "It'll keep going at the same level, yes, but only because you did so well training those consultants. Without you, it'll stagnate. When-- if--" He shakes his head again. "Sorry. Let's just say, it won't continue to grow without you. You are the soul of that place."
"But I don't remember how to train them."
He gives me a grim smile and I realize he's thought of this already. Even if I move back to Ottawa and take over my company again, I won't know how to do anything. But all he says is, "As your dad always said, 'We'll jump off that bridge when we get there.'"
Dad did always say that, so I laugh. Ryan laughs too, and begins telling me about the restaurant we're approaching. I know he's changing the subject, but I'm ready for that so I let him.
We have a surprisingly relaxing and friendly lunch together. The more time I spend with him, the more I like him. I'm not entirely sure how I feel about that, since Donna ran for a reason and Kate doesn't know what that reason was. But so far I can't believe he's the cause of Donna's depression or her flight.
Lunch complete, my husband and I head to the therapist's waiting room. When she leans out of her office and says, "Donna Merrill?", Ryan gives my shoulder a squeeze and says softly, "Good luck. I hope you like her."
I don't. She has this way of saying something and then peering at me over her wire-frame glasses, which I suspect she wears to give her something to peer over rather than because she needs them, that makes me think she doesn't believe anything I say.
We're nearing the end of the story as I know it, and she says, "So, you met Ryan for breakfast this morning. What did you do afterwards?"
"Looked at wedding pictures and then went out and found me an apartment."
"Here? In Toronto?"
Again with the peering, and I say as innocently as I can, "Yes, why not?"
I know why not. She's thinking I should be moving back to Ottawa with Ryan. I can't, though. Jake was a stranger but I didn't have much choice. Now I do have a choice and I won't go live with a different stranger.
"Why not indeed? If you're happy with this arrangement, and Ryan is too, then..."
She trails off and I say, "We are happy. Yes," trying to sound convincing.
She doesn't push me. Instead, she says, "Tell me about the apartment. How did you pick it?"
If I never get back the memories of my career, maybe I'll take up psychology. Get someone to ramble about their day and make three hundred bucks an hour. Not bad. I sigh. "Ryan's hotel recommended a rental agent and--"
"Why did you sigh?"
I frown. "I didn't."
She peers at me, showing more interest than she has so far. "You did. I asked how you picked the place and you sighed before you answered. Why?"
"I don't know. Look, you're the pro here, you tell me. All I know is, I'm tired and confused and married to a guy I don't know and probably about to slip back into depression at any time and I don't remember anything!"
She leans back in her chair, nodding as if I've said something profound.
I push my chair back and stand. "You know what, this is pointless. Forget it. I'm out of here."
I'm nearly at the door when I think of poor Ryan in the waiting room. I'd told him he didn't need to stay, especially since he was leaving Claire alone all day, but he simply said, "You're my wife. I'm here." If I come out and give up, already, before barely half an hour has passed, it's not fair to him. Or to me, since if Doctor Ferraro's half as effective as she is annoying I'll get my memories back in a week.
I sigh, and turn around. "Yes, this time I did sigh."
"You're coming back?"
Her voice is as neutral as plain white rice, but it still annoys me.
"Of course I am."
"Why?"
I drop into my chair again, an armchair with a crocheted afghan draped over the back and worn patches on the arms. Though I don't want it to, sinking into it feels comfortable. Like I'm in the right place. "Because I'm not a quitter."
She gives me a single nod. "Glad to hear it. Tell me, how are Jake and Ryan alike?"
I blink. "Aren't we supposed to be getting my memories back? How will this help?"
She peers and waits.
My sigh this time is pure exasperation. "Okay, fine. They're both guys, obviously. Both blond, but Jake has brown eyes and Ryan's are--"
"How they're the same first, please."
"They both have eyes?" I shoot back, annoyed.
She surprises me with a quick grin. "Trust me, this is going somewhere. Keep talking."
"Fine. They're both tall, both worried about me, both pretty good-looking."
She waits, but I can't think of anything else.
"Okay. How are they different?"
I finish my comment on their eye color, and she says, "Good. Can we go deeper than just physical appearance?"
I'm glad she says this, because I was trying to figure out how to say that Jake seems cuter to me than Ryan does without being mean to my husband. Ryan's just so corporate, and I like Jake's casual style. But I have to like Ryan better. Don't I?
"Well, Jake is an artist. A sculptor. From what I can tell Ryan doesn't have an artistic bone in his body. But Ryan's definitely more ambitious than Jake. Ryan's older, though, so maybe that's why. He told me at lunch he's thirty-nine."
"And you're thirty-two. And Jake is?"
"Thirty."
She nods then throws a question at me, one that might as well have spikes all over it. "Who do you like better?"
I can't speak. It's all jumbled up in my mind.
"Talk me through it." Her voice has gone gentle. "I can't imagine how this is for you, truly. Tell me what you're thinking about them both."
I wrap my arms around myself, feeling cold. "I just met Ryan yesterday. I thought I'd recognize him but nothing about him seems familiar. Jake does seem familiar, because I've known him about six weeks. When I met Ryan and needed comfort, Jake gave it to me, which was nice of him. But Ryan sat there and let Jake comfort his wife because he knew I needed it, and I think that was nicer." I shake my head. "I'm not sure Jake would be mature enough to do the same in reverse."
"How familiar is Jake?"
I don't understand the question. "I told you, I've known him for--"
"You'd still rather I call you Kate, right?"
I nod. She asked me at the beginning, saying that my receipts would be for Donna Merrill because that was how my insurance company knew me but that she'd call me anything I wanted. I am Donna but I feel like Kate.
"Kate, let me level with you. The timing of your memory loss is strange, as is your finding Jake. There are millions of people here and yet you found yourself with him. Isn't it possible you were running to him as much as from Ryan?"
"No," I say at once, before the question even sinks in. But then it does sink in and I have to think it through. Is it possible? Did Jake know exactly where to find me? Was I having an affair with him? Did I maybe even love him?
I don't love him now, but then I don't love Ryan either and my wedding picture makes it clear I did.
"No," I say again, with much less confidence. "I don't believe that. I wouldn't have cheated on Ryan. I wouldn't do that."
She nods slowly and looks about to speak but I step in before she can. "And besides, the timing isn't odd. The ECT treatment is known to cause memory loss."
"But rarely back as far as yours, especially after you'd had five other treatments. Kate, I think we'll find you've forgotten those particular years for a reason."
Fury tears through me. "Are you saying I forgot them on purpose?"
"No. And yes. You didn't decide to forget them, not consciously. But on some level, you wanted the memories of those years gone forever."