Deceitful

  ONE

  The sheets feel warm against my skin, but unusually scratchy. I stir and lazily stretch my legs out as I pull them closer to my chin and nuzzle my head into my pillow sleepily. Just as I am drifting off again, the strange sensation of fear pulls me quickly from my sleep. When I open my eyes, I realize that I have no idea where the hell I am. I bring a hand upwards to the top of my skull. My head throbs in pain. Sunlight peeks in through the curtainless double windows, abusing my tired eyes. The blinds allow tiny rays of sun to stream into the room, though a small amount, it’s enough to make me squint against the brightness. The setting here is unfamiliar, foreign to me. My drowsy eyes shift from one window to the next. I notice the four walls surrounding me aren’t typical; they’re logs. I’m in a cabin. Why the hell am I in a cabin? My brain tries to make sense of everything I am feeling and the setting but I’m in a hazy fog. As if I’m wearing a blindfold, my memories stay just far away enough to sense but not fully reveal themselves to me.

  The four-post bed I lie on takes up the majority of this room. Big enough for at least three fully grown adults, I feel like I’m drowning in the mass of bedding. A beautiful patchwork quilt covers me. Intricately threaded blue, green, and gray colors make up much of the throw. Nightstands hug either side of the bed. One for me and one for…who?

  An eccentric burgundy vase sits on the nightstand closest to me. In the vase sit large white tulips, a dozen, maybe more. My favorite. I examine the room, looking for a phone. My cell is usually plastered to my palm but now it’s nowhere in sight. I feel dazed, like I’m in an alternate reality, living out a dream sequence.

  The pounding in my head subsides just a little as I take in my surroundings but when I try to sit up it immediately resurfaces. I give in and allow my body to recoil back into the warm sheets, two fingers massaging each temple. I close my eyes and take in a deep breath, in through my nose and out through my mouth. Panic is starting to rise inside of me. Sometimes when I wake up I don’t know where I am for seconds, maybe moments. I’ve been awake long enough to gather my bearings, though. Something about this is extremely off.

  I open my eyes as I smell something delicious in the distance. Bacon, pancakes, and sausage, the aromas of breakfast linger in the air. My stomach growls hungrily.

  Where am I? Who else is here?

  I don’t question myself for long because just as I think it, a tall dark-haired, dark-eyed man walks in carrying a silver antique tray meant for me, breakfast in bed.

  My heart rate speedily increases when I see him round the corner to the bedroom, it thuds in my chest out of control. Why is he here? More importantly, why would I be here with him? I try to wake myself up from this strange dream, but my body refuses to come to consciousness. I decide I have to play along until my mind runs out of scenarios and I wake from my slumber alone in my own comfy bed—without scratchy sheets.

  “Nate,” I say, knowing exactly who this man is that stands in front of me. “What’s going on? Where are we?” He hands me the tray of delightful looking food; he looks handsome. The same sun that I felt radiating onto my face lights up his own.

  “What do you mean, silly? We’re in our home.” He pauses before adding, “Should I take your temperature?” He laughs a laugh from deep down in his belly and sets the tray over my lap when I don’t take it from him. I sit up in the bed, resting my back against the headboard.

  I don’t laugh with him. I am so goddamn confused.

  “Nate.” I touch his arm delicately, wondering if I should take his temperature. “We broke up. This isn’t our home. I live in the city. We’re in a cabin. Do you see the logs?” I run my fingers through my long, tangled hair, my lips stretch into a tight line and my brows furrow as I speak, becoming warier as we converse.

  “Darling,” when he says the term meant for endearment, I shudder. He always called me darling. He shouldn’t be now, this isn’t right. “You’re starting to scare me. Is this one of your games, are you researching my reaction for your novel...” Nate’s voice trails off. He tilts his head to the side, his big, dark eyes narrowing. “Darling….”

  “Nate. I’m very confused. What the hell is going on here? We broke up last night. I know that much for sure. We were in your condo and I—” My mind goes blank. Fear travels up my spine and down my throat, making my stomach uneasy. I’m searching for what should come next, but my mind feels overloaded, cluttered to the extreme. I’m in a haze.

  He brings his hand to his chin and rubs the dark stubble, his fingers moving up and down, up and down. “I think we need to call in Dr. Michaels again, honey. You know what happened last time you got like this.” He pulls his shiny black mobile out of his jeans pocket. A look of confusion spreads across my face because I don’t understand why he’s being so formal about Jake.

  “No. Honey.” I make sure to say the ‘honey’ with a sarcastic bite for emphasis. “I do not. Why would we call Jake?” Dr. Jake Michaels is a scientist that Nate went to college with, and they have remained close friends. They even critique each other’s theories, battling back and forth over who can come up with the next best method for blah blah blah.

  “Do you really not remember anything?” His tone change from playful to serious in a matter of a few minutes. “Do you honestly think we broke up? If the answer is yes, I am calling Jake and we are going to get you help.” He says this firmly and I know now that he really is worried about me. He’s talking animatedly with his hands. He waits on my answer before pressing the green dial button on his phone.

  “Call him,” are the only words I can form in my current state. I don’t like this sudden forgetfulness. I don’t like being in a foreign log cabin. I certainly don’t like that I’m here with Nate. None of this makes sense. We broke up last night, I know this. There is not one doubt in my mind.

  I just can’t remember why we broke up. Or how we got to this cabin.

  -

  Jake Michaels shows up less than forty-five minutes later. He carries with him a black bag filled with various medical devices spilling out the open zipper. I watch the long rubber tube of his stethoscope sway back and forth as he walks into the bedroom. His long, slender torso is covered by a black hooded Under Armour sweatshirt. His outfit is completed by black joggers and running shoes. All Under Armour brand, like he’s a walking billboard for the company. “Well you look like you’re on the run,” I say not intending it to be a pun although it comes out as one.

  “You caught me.” His lips part way to reveal beautiful fluorescent white teeth. People probably assume that he’s a doctor of dentistry, not a doctor of sciences.

  “What’s going on, Loey?” Hearing my nickname from his mouth is different. He has always called me Marlowe. “Nate said you’re remembering things incorrectly, or not at all? Did you take pills again? I know you don’t like talking about it but it’s important we figure it out. We don’t want it to get like it did last time.” I am offended as soon as the words drop from his lips that have gobs of Chapstick on them.

  Pills? I don’t even take Tylenol when I spike a fever. I don’t put crazy unknown ingredients into my body. I’ve watched enough documentaries on Netflix to steer me far away from things like that. What the hell is going on here?

  “Mmmm…can’t say I did. What are you talking about like last time?” I look suspiciously from Nate to Jake. They give each other a look I assume only they can decipher. “Please just tell me what is going on. My head is killing me. I can’t take much more of this back and forth. I feel like I am on some screwed-up game show.” I tense up and sense a panic attack coming on. I breathe in deeply again, in through my nose, out through my mouth. My skin grows warm, my face is surely darkening red in color. My body clams up and my chest is tightening. Tiny pin pricks of tingles make their way u
p my toes and fingers, one of my go to signs that I am about to lose my shit.

  “Lo. The last time you woke up like this you had taken all those pills. You don’t remember that? It would have been almost nine months to the day. I got to your apartment and you were unresponsive. I didn’t think you were going to make it but once the paramedics arrived and got you into the ambulance they were able to revive you while on the way to Northwestern. I was terrified, I was gripping the steering wheel so tight my knuckles were white. All I could imagine while following behind the ambulance the entire way was that I might truly be losing you,” Nate says this while biting his pinky nail down to the cuticle, talking out of the corner of his mouth.

  I stare into his eyes. “Well, I can assure you I didn’t take pills, and no, Nate, I do not remember this. All of this is getting so strange. I can’t process what the hell is going on here.” I start in on rubbing my temples again, trying to relieve the growing pain, focusing on my breathing to calm myself. Fear is bubbling inside of me in the form of bile. I can’t wrap my mind around why my mind is playing games with me. “Today is November 21st, correct?” I planned the breakup with Nate. I know I did it on November 20th.

  Nate’s eyes reflect a certain sadness that isn’t normal for him. “Today is December 22nd, 2017. You broke up with me over a year ago, Lo. You told me that you wanted to find yourself and that your writing was suffering because of me. We got back together not long after that, you came to me and said you made a mistake. I took you back on the spot, no questions asked. We are married now, Loey. You don’t remember our wedding?” Nate looks frustrated now, his fists ball at his sides. His confusion growing into impatience as he thinks of me not remembering something so special and sentimental to him. He looks to Jake, a grim expression spreading across his face.

  Could I have really married this man? I so vividly remember breaking things off just yesterday. Why have I forgotten over a year of my life? The unanswered questions complicate my already spinning thoughts straight into oblivion. I close my eyes tight and see outlines of stars decorating the backs of my eyelids. I refuse to believe anything about pills or overdosing. Is that what was just implied? I pull my knees up to my chest in the bed that is too big for just me. I cross my arms over the tops of my knees and bring my head down. I tremble and under normal circumstances I’d try to hide it. Right now, though, I don’t give a shit what weakness I reveal to them.

  “Last time this happened we had to work with you to get your memories back. When you woke up in the hospital you had forgotten months of our lives we shared together.” He looks from me over to Jake. “Jake, is this happening again? Is this really, honestly happening again?” Nate flings his head back, a deep sigh escaping his pursed lips.

  “I think it’s strange.” He puts his hands on his hips and looks around the room while he thinks. “If she had taken pills, which she says she hasn’t, and we have every reason to believe that she would be honest with us, the same thing would have had to happen. She would have been unresponsive, ambulance, hospital, the whole deal. I suppose it’s possible she took just enough to give her some of those same side effects without pushing her over the edge. I don’t know though. That’s something one of the medical doctors would have to diagnose.” Jake looks from me back to Nate as he talks about me like I’m not in the room. Like I’m some research case study they’re working on.

  “So, then what? This is just residual effects from months ago? Is that possible?” Nate questions.

  “Probably, yeah. It’s the only logical explanation I can think of to explain what she is describing.” Jake unlocks his ungodly large smartphone and furiously types something into it.

  “So, high doses of Valium and Klonopin-it was those two, right?” Jake looks up from his phone screen and over to Nate who nods slowly as he watches my reaction to Jake’s words.

  “Excuse me, I’m here.” I peel my hands away from my head and wave dramatically in the air, my mouth agape. “I don’t take Klonopin or Valium. Those are major drugs.” I clap after the word major and again after drugs, for emphasis. “I’d never take them.” I spew my words out but realize neither will acknowledge what I’m saying. They are too absorbed in Jake’s phone, reading whatever is on his screen.

  “The drugs used on their own or combined can cause memory loss, symptoms relating to amnesia, blackouts, hallucinations—” Jake reads the side effects out loud, but I cut him off.

  I’m getting angry now. “I. Do. Not. Take. Those. Drugs.” I over enunciate each word, hoping they cut him as they come out from my lips.

  “You do, Loey. You have prescriptions for both. Your anxiety after the accident.” Nate says, and I look down at my lap.

  This is something I remember. The accident. I wish I could forget this instead of forgetting marrying the man I thought I broke things off with. What a goddamn mess.

  It was raining, pouring really. It seems as if the entire city of Chicago forgets how to operate a car the minute the sky starts sprinkling, although it happens often here. I was minding my own business, silently cursing stupid drivers and giving the occasional middle finger to idiots. I remember that I was in the right lane, two blocks from my turn to get into my usual parking garage for my office, when a woman stepped out into traffic right in front of me. I had no time to react. I ran her over going 40 mph. I felt her bones crack underneath my feet as my car barreled right over her. I didn’t even get a look at her face, I only saw bright strawberry-colored hair blowing around in all directions as the wind violently flung it around when she stepped in front of my moving car. All she left behind was a small black shoe on my windshield, along with fresh, bright red dripping blood. I didn’t know what she looked like at the time, but I had so intimately felt her beneath of me. It seemed like a disgustingly dirty sin.

  The other pedestrians said she tried to step out in front of a car moments before as well, but a man pulled her back to the safety of the sidewalk. Apparently, she shoved the man and said something along the lines of it being her time and that she was ready.

  The case was closed relatively quickly, after a reenactment and survey. She had no family, no friends. No one to even write her a proper obituary for the Tribune Newspaper. It was like when she died, anything that she was tied to died too, there was nothing left of her.

  I often think about the food in her refrigerator and how bad it must have smelled by the time the landlords realized she was dead.

  I want, so badly, for my memory to block this out. Of course, it doesn’t. What a cruel joke. I remember every single detail. Her wild hair and the sound of her bones crushing beneath my feet still haunt me.

  So, I take prescription anti-anxiety medications. This is good to know. My mind conveniently left this out of my memory when I awoke this morning. I silently wonder what other useful tidbits I will discover about myself from two grown men I don’t want to be near. Something deep down in the pit of my stomach is screaming at me that I need to get away from them.

  “Are you telling me that I tried to kill myself after the accident?” I ask, to neither in particular.

  “Yes,” Nate says. “You couldn’t cope. Even though it wasn’t your fault, you said you couldn’t keep living when all you could think about was that girl. Her hair, the sound. You thought you saw her everywhere, on the subway, in the streets, in the bathroom mirror.”

  I shake my head slowly back and forth, disagreeing with him but knowing he’s probably right.

  “Okay. So. Let’s continue filling me in on my life then.” Relinquishing control, I throw my hands up in the air and bringing them down hard onto the mattress.

  Nate and Jake explain that after the accident and break up, I started going to extensive therapy. After working with the doctor for a bit I had asked to meet Nate for dinner and told him I made the worst mistake of my life, that I was just depressed. We got back together and were engaged shortly after that. As I listen to their words I look at the beautiful breakfast perched in front of me that I can’t
stomach.

  Jake goes on to say that the day Nate and I got engaged was grossly perfect. He asked me on the Riverwalk, a place we frequented. Nate hired a photographer to capture the moment (only to have the moment lost just days later when the memory card was stolen from the photographer) and Nate and I met Jake, his girlfriend Jada, someone who I always wished would stick up for herself a bit more, and a few guys that they worked with at one of the dive bars for cheap beers to celebrate. Emphasis on the cheap. Nate and Jake have a running game they play. Which of the two can find the cheapest bars in the city? It was strange and stupid, but it was something that kept them entertained.

  We got married five months ago at the courthouse, something I always said I wanted to do if I got married. This was believable to me. I never wanted anything extravagant. I don’t have family anymore, unless you count Connor. And I don’t. The majority of my friends and I lost touch after high school and college. I wouldn’t have had anyone to invite to a big wedding.

  After getting married, Nate surprised me with a honeymoon to Greece, and with this cabin. Dreaming of running away to a cabin is something I remember quite well. Nate and I had spoken countless times about one day getting a tiny cabin in the middle of the woods where no one could piss us off or let their dogs shit in our yard. Plus, it would be a quiet place for me to write and for Nate to do his research. Seclusion was important for both works of art.

  Nate and Jake converse about something not having to do with me and I am left alone with my thoughts. I have an uneasy feeling festering in my stomach. Anyone would after needing someone to tell them their life story because they had forgotten it. This was a sick feeling, though. Nate rubs me the wrong way. My feelings of ending things with him are so real and raw. It truly does feel like it just happened. No other memories between then and now come to mind on their own.

  I try to shake the feeling of unease as I start coming around to the idea of this being my life. I am married to Nate. I am living in a remote cabin. I do not remember anything about the past year of my life. In through your nose, out through your mouth, I remind myself.