pissed off about him being made partner ahead of me, about him possibly knowing that I would be fired, I felt much better now that Iâd gotten my dose of rage. And oddly enough, I felt a tipsy contentment around me. Itâd been eons since Laney and I had had a late-night chat like this, a fact that made me sad. It was Laney whoâd been with me every step of the way though the traumas of high school, the newfound freedom of college and the often painful days of early adulthood, and yet it was Ben Iâd ended up spending so much time with. Ben, whoâd eventually decided that the time meant nothing.
âHe is such a fucker,â I said, the margaritas making my tongue loose, causing me to repeat myself over and over.
Laney gave me a light smack on the arm. âStop already. Itâs unhealthy. Letâs talk about something else.â
âName it.â
âAre you sure youâre all right with this no-memory thing? I mean, youâve had a lot going on today, and itâs all right to fall apart.â
I turned on my side to face her. âI feel better than I ever have.â
âWell, donât think that you have to put on a tough act. You can still fall apart if you want.â
âNope. Iâve done enough of that.â
Laney was silent for a second, and I could hear the whoosh of cars passing by her building. âItâs just that something was definitely wrong. Something more than Ben and the job,â she said.
âIt was obviously something that didnât matter.â
âMaybe.â
Her tone made me feel a little chilly, and I buried myself deeper under her duvet. What was it that I hadnât told anyone? Did it matter now? On one hand, if whatever it was could explain why I couldnât remember this summer, I wanted to know it. For some reason, I truly wanted to learn why this odd memory loss had happened to me. But on the other hand, if I remembered those five months, wouldnât I just slip back into that depression? I wanted the whys and the hows of the situation, but I feared the details. I felt as if my memory was a house of cards, wobbly and shaky and hollow inside. I was afraid that if I came too close to that emptiness, that missing time, everything would fall in on me.
âLook, Lane,â I said, âIâve already spent too much time on whatever it was, and maybe thatâs why I feel so goodnow, because I let myself be depressed until I couldnât be depressed anymore.â
âShouldnât you try to figure out more about what was going on with you during that time? I could help you, you know. We could go talk to Ellen or somebody, maybe do some research.â Laneyâs voice sounded so sweet, so helpful and slightly worried, and it made me tremble a little inside.
I squeezed her arm, as much to reassure her as myself. âItâs okay. As far as I can tell, nothing good happened during those months, right?â
âRight,â she said, a hint of doubt lingering in her voice.
âRight.â I rolled over, turning my back to her. âAnd what you donât know canât hurt you.â
6
O n Sunday, I suffered an intense headache. I usually didnât feel so bad after a night of drinking, but I probably hadnât been drinking much for five months. I tried not to think about the headaches Laney had told me about, the ones I suffered during those months I was holed up in my apartment.
After Laney plied me with ibuprofen, she and I joined Gear and the rest of his High Gear band to watch the Bears game at a little corner pub. Iâm not sure what I expected of Laneyâs latest boyfriendâmaybe heroin at halftime?âbut he wasnât exactly the stereotypical dude in a heavy metal band. Oh sure, he had the requisite tattoos on his arms (barbed wire on the right, some Chinese lettering on the left) and he wore a ripped black T-shirt and black army boots, but Gear was warm and