Remember Me?

Remember Me? Page 50

He doesn't love you, he doesn't understand you“ ”Of course Eric loves me!“ Now I'm really rattled. ”He sat by my hospital bed night and day, he brought me these amazing taupe roses...“ ”You think I didn't want to sit by your hospital bed night and day?“ Jon's eyes darken. ”Lexi, it nearly killed me. “Let me go.” I try to pull my arm free, but Jon holds firm. “You can't throw us away.” He's scanning my face desperately. “It's in there. It's all in there somewhere, I know it is” “You're wrong!” With a huge effort I wrench my arm out of his grasp. “It's not!” I clatter down the stairs without looking back, straight into Eric's arms. “Hi!” He laughs. “You seem in a rush. Is everything all right?” “ I . . . don't feel too good.” I put a hand to my brow. “I've got a headache. Can we go now?” “Of course we can, darling.” He squeezes my shoulders and glances up at the mezzanine level. “Have you said good-?bye to Jon?” “Yes. Let's just...go.” As we head to the door I cling to his expensive jacket, letting the feel of him soothe my jangled nerves. This is my husband. This is who I'm in love with. This is reality.

Chapter 12

Okay, I need my memory back. I've had it with amnesia. I've had it with people telling me they know more about my life than I do. It's my memory. It belongs to me.

I stare into my eyes, reflected an inch away in the mirrored wardrobe door. This is a new habit of mine, to stand right up close to the mirror so the only bit I can see is my eyes. It's comforting. It makes me feel as if I'm looking at the old me. “Remember, you moron,” I instruct myself in a low, fierce voice. “Re-?mem-?ber.”

My eyes stare back at me as though they know everything but won't tell. I sigh, and lean my head against the glass in frustration. In the days since we got back from the show apartment, I've done nothing but immerse myself in the last three years. I've looked through photo albums, watched movies I know I've “seen,” listened to songs that I know the old Lexi heard a hundred times But nothing's worked. Whichever mental filing cabinet my missing memories are locked into, it's pretty sturdy. It's not about to fly open just because I listen to a song called “You're Beautiful” by James... someone or other. Stupid secretive brain. I mean, who's in charge here? Me or it? Yesterday I went to see that neurologist, Neil. He nodded sympathetically as I poured everything out, and scribbled loads of notes. Then he said it was all fascinating and he might write a research paper on me. When I pressed him, he added that maybe it would help to write out a timeline, and I could go and see a therapist if I liked. But I don't need therapy. I need my memory. The mirror is misting up from my breath. I'm pressing my forehead harder against the mirror, as though the answers are all inside the mirror-?me, as though I can get them if I concentrate enough...

“Lexi? I'm off.” Eric comes into the bedroom, holding a DVD, out of its box. “Darling, you left this on the rug. Sensible location for a DVD?” I take the disc from him. It's the Ambition EP 1 DVD that I started watching the other day.

“I'm sorry, Eric,” I say quickly, taking it from him. “I don't know how it got there.” That's a lie. It got there when Eric was out and I had about fifty DVDs all scattered over the rug, together with magazines and photo albums and candy wrappers. If he'd seen it, he'd have had a heart attack.

“Your taxi will be here at ten,” says Eric. “I'm off now.” “Great!” I kiss him, like I do every morning now. It's actually starting to feel quite natural. “Have a good day!” “You too.” He squeezes my shoulder. “Hope it goes well.” 206 “It will,” I say with confidence. I'm going back to work today, full-?time. Not to take over the departmentobviously I'm not ready to do that. But to start relearning my job, catching up on what I've missed. It's five weeks since the accident. I can't just sit around at home anymore. I have to do something. I have to get my life back. And my friends. On the bed, all ready, are three glossy gift bags with presents inside for Fi, Debs, and Carolyn, which I'm going to take in today. I spent ages choosing the perfect gifts; in fact, every time I think about them I want to hug myself with pleasure. Humming, I head into the sitting room and slot the Ambition DVD into the player. I never did watch the rest of this. Maybe it'll help me get back into office mode. I fastforward through the introductory shots, until I come to a bit with me in a limo with two guys in suits, and press Play. “Lexi and her teammates won't be taking it easy tonight,” explains a male voice-?over. The camera focuses in on me, and I hold my breath with anticipation. “We're going to win this task!” I'm saying in a sharp voice to the guys, slapping the back of one hand on the other palm. “If we have to work around the clock, we're going to win. Okay? No excuses.“ My jaw drops slightly. Is that fierce, scary businesswoman me? I've never spoken like that in my life. ”As ever, Lexi is taking her team to task,“ says the voiceover. ”But has the Cobra gone too far this time?” I don't quite understand what he's talking about. What cobra? The picture now flashes to one of the guys from the limo. He's sitting in an office chair, a night sky visible through the plate-?glass window behind him.