Free In Medias Res by Yolanda Wallace

“You almost forgot your pictures.”
    “Right,” she said without much enthusiasm. “Wouldn’t want to forget those.” She slid the photos into her back pocket without looking at them.
    Jack went inside the house, presumably to put the groceries away. I used the respite to apologize to Marcy. Or try to. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know he was going to be here.”
    “It doesn’t matter. Whether he’s here or in Chicago, it doesn’t change the fact that you lied to me.”
    “About what?” I grabbed her arm, but she pulled away.
    “About everything. If you two are so unhappy, why did you greet him with open arms?”
    “If that’s what you think you saw, you need to have your eyes examined.”
    “Why are we even arguing about this, anyway? You’re married , remember?” she said, reminding both of us of something we seemed to have momentarily forgotten. She started the scooter. “Go play with your husband. I’ve got better things to do than wait around for you to decide if you’re actually interested in me or if you’re just another bi-curious straight girl.”
    Just as they had in the restaurant, her words found their mark. This time they hit me even harder. I actually staggered a little. What she said had an air of familiarity I could neither pinpoint nor dismiss.
    “I am being as honest with you as I know how,” I said, blocking her escape route. “What do you want from me?”
    She glared at me, her eyes filled with equal parts hurt and anger. “Apparently something you’re not ready to give.”
    She was right and I knew it, so I didn’t try to argue with her. She had tried to draw me out, but I had deflected all of her questions. When I’d had the chance to come clean, I had chosen to keep my secret. My actions might have ended our friendship before it had barely begun.
    I stepped aside and Marcy sped away. I watched her until she disappeared around the corner. Then I headed back inside. I found Jack in the kitchen. The medical encyclopedia lay open on the banquette. Had he glanced at it and seen what I’d been reading or had he been too busy with the groceries? Not taking any chances, I closed the book while his back was turned.
    “Where’s your friend?” he asked, bending to put the salad mix in the crisper.
    “She had to go to work.”
    “Oh?” He cribbed one of the fresh strawberries before putting the carton in the refrigerator. “What does she do?”
    “She drives a pedi-cab,” I said while he popped the cap on two of the Heinekens. He handed me one and kept one for himself.
    “That sounds strenuous. Especially considering how hot and humid it gets down here during the summer. What’s her name again?”
    “It’s Marcy,” I said, wishing he’d change the subject.
    “How did you meet her?”
    “Walking down the street,” I offered lamely. Unable to remember what kind of relationship we had, I didn’t know how to relate to him. I had hoped I wouldn’t have to until I was myself again. Hadn’t the phone call been enough to put his mind at ease?
    He wriggled his eyebrows at me. “Back to that again, are you?”
    “You said you didn’t mind if I went back to work. Why shouldn’t I have a go at the world’s oldest profession?”
    He laughed around the mouth of his beer bottle. “How’s your new job working out for you?”
    “It’s slow going right now. I’ll let you know after I build up a client base.”
    “Do I have to stand in line for your services or will I be afforded special privileges?” His voice was a seductive murmur.
    I was afraid he’d ask a question along those lines. When I saw him standing in the doorway, the first thought that had run through my mind was What do I do if he asks for sex? I couldn’t say no without an explanation, but how could I say yes? I hadn’t reclaimed my memories of him so I felt like we were meeting for the first time. The “new” me wasn’t into sex with strangers and that’s what he was to me—a stranger.
    “I’ll