Graham orders takeout for dinner, which is a relief because it’s obvious from breakfast this morning that he’s not any kind of gourmet chef.
We decide on an order of pad thai, pad see ew, and dumplings as an appetizer. When the food arrives in a giant paper sack, the smell of it makes my stomach rumble. It’s hard to know what to eat when I can’t remember what happened yesterday. How do I know if I indulged myself the day before and need to eat like a bird today? Or maybe I’ve been eating healthy and deserve a treat? How would I know?
Don’t think about that. Just enjoy the food.
Graham carries the paper sack with our food in it to the black marble dining table. He drops the bag onto the table and rips it open. But before he unpacks it, he hesitates.
“You better give me your phone,” he says. I stare at him. “What?”
“Your phone,” he repeats. “Let me have it.” “But… why?”
“It’s almost eight o’clock. Why do you need it, anyway?” He holds his hand out and wiggles his fingers. “Just give it to me so I can keep it safe.”
I pat my pocket, with my phone nestled inside. “It’s safe here.”
He drums his fingers on the table. “Right. But tomorrow morning, you’re going to have no idea where you left it. If you give it to me, I’ll put it somewhere safe. And I’ll give it to you first thing in the morning like I did today.”
What he’s saying makes sense, but I am reluctant to give up my phone. Considering I’m locked in here, the
phone feels like a lifeline. “Can’t I keep it until it’s time for bed?”
He presses his lips together. “You tend to get more confused as the evening goes on. Once you put your phone in the freezer and it was wrecked.”
Is that true? I don’t feel at all confused right now. And like he said, it’s almost eight o’clock. “What if my father calls?”
“He’s on a cruise right now. He’s probably not going to be answering your calls.”
“My father is on a cruise?” That doesn’t sound like him. I don’t think he’s been on one date since my mother died. “Why would he go on a cruise?”
Graham shrugs. “Why not? Isn’t he entitled to have some fun?”
There’s a subtext there. That other people in the world are out there having fun, while we’re stuck in this horrible situation. For an entire year. And maybe for the rest of our lives.
“Tess, will you just give me the phone?” He shoots me a look. “If I don’t take it now, I’m going to spend half the morning searching for it. Let me put it someplace safe, okay?”
I know I should just hand it over, but I’m reluctant. I’m not even sure why. Everything Graham has said makes sense. There’s no reason why I shouldn’t hand over my phone. But I also don’t quite understand why I have to do it right this minute.
“Listen, Tess.” He folds his arms across his chest. “If we’re going to have an argument every night about your phone, then maybe it’s a mistake for you to have a phone.”
I jerk my head back. “Are you threatening me?”
“I’m not threatening you.” His voice is maddeningly calm. “But I hope you can see my situation. It’s an expensive phone, and you get confused easily. The doctor you saw after your head injury didn’t think you should even
have a phone, but I wanted you to have it so we could contact each other during the day when I’m away. Was I wrong?”
I don’t say anything to that. I just stare back at him.
He lets out a sigh. “I know this is hard to wrap your head around, Tess, but you don’t always know what’s best for yourself. I have to make some decisions for you, and if you don’t like it, then I’m sorry. But that’s just the way it is.”
He’s talking to me like he’s my father. But it hits me that if what Camila said earlier is true, this man is my guardian. Because of my head injury, he has the power to make all my decisions for me. And if he doesn’t want me to have a phone, that’s his prerogative.
The thought of it makes me ill. But he’s right. This is the way it is. And if I let myself get upset over it, I’m going to be miserable.
I dig into my pocket and fish out my phone. I drop it into his waiting hand. “Fine.”
He nods at me. “Why don’t you unpack the food, and I’ll go plug this into the charger. I’ll also grab us some plates and water. Unless you want pomegranate juice?”
I gag at the thought of pomegranate juice. “Just water is fine.”
Graham disappears into the kitchen, and I’m tempted to follow him in there and see where he hides the phone. But I don’t know why I am being so paranoid. It’s not like anybody is going to call me tonight. I already spoke to Lucy, my father is apparently on an exciting singles cruise, and it’s not like my company is going to be reaching out to me anytime soon. Graham has that under control.
He’s gone for several minutes—long enough for me to have started eating some of the pad thai noodles straight from the container with the plastic fork they provided. Ziggy appears next to me at the table, nuzzling my knee and begging for food. I take a little piece of beef out of the container and hold it out to him. He laps it up.
“I told you not to feed him from the table.”
Graham has finally re-emerged from the kitchen, carrying two glasses of water and two ceramic white plates. When Ziggy sees him, he barks loudly. He bounds over and starts growling at Graham.
“For Christ’s sake!” Graham’s face turns pink. “Tess, can you get your goddamn dog away from me? I’m going to drop everything.”
I leap out of my seat and grab a hold of Ziggy’s collar. I stroke the smooth golden fur on his head, but he won’t stop growling at Graham. Maybe it is a jealousy thing, like Graham said, but boy, Ziggy really does not like him.
“Put him outside while we eat,” Graham says. I frown. “It’s cold out.”
“It’s not that cold. And he’s got his fur. And there’s a doghouse out there. He’ll be fine.”
I just stare at Graham.
“Seriously, Tess?” He drops the glasses of water and plates onto the dining table with a loud thump. “Do we have to argue about every little thing?”
Before I can answer, Graham seizes Ziggy’s collar and almost drags the poor dog into the kitchen. Ziggy’s paws make a scraping sound as he attempts to keep his footing on the ground. I don’t follow them because I can’t even watch. Graham’s sharp voice echoes from the other room. “Go! Get out!”
The next sound I hear is the back door slamming shut.
And a key turning in a lock.
Graham has now locked the back door.
When Graham returns to the dining room, his face is still pink. He distributes the plates and glasses he brought to the dining table—one plate and glass for me, the other for him. Then he drops into his seat, a scowl on his face.
“Sorry,” he mutters. “That dog is always begging at the table for food. I’m so sick of it. He never listens to what we tell him to do.”
“Maybe he needs obedience lessons?” I suggest. But I don’t really think that. From what I could see today, Ziggy is an incredibly well-behaved dog, save for the last few minutes.
“Maybe…”
“I could call and make an appointment for lessons?” He scoffs. “Yeah, when exactly would you do that?”
“Tomorrow morning,” I start to say. But then I realize his point. I’m not going to remember to do anything tomorrow morning. When I wake up in the morning, God knows what my last memory will be. I probably won’t even know who Ziggy is, same as this morning.
But maybe I will. Maybe I’ll remember. It seems impossible I could forget this crazy day.
Graham takes a long swig from his water glass. “Let’s eat.”
I pile a stack of noodles onto my plate and Graham does the same. For fifteen minutes, we eat in complete silence. I wonder if that’s what we usually do, or if the conversation flows readily. What can I talk about? Current events? The latest movies? Music? All those topics are difficult for me.
I suppose we could talk about stuff from the past. But I can’t remember any of our shared past. And I can’t remember what conversations we’ve had before. I’m scared anything I say to him will be something I’ve already said dozens of times before. It’s awkward.
So instead, I decide to opt for some small talk. I wrack my brain, trying to think of some mundane topic that will be at least a little interesting.
“The food is pretty good at this place,” I finally say. Graham nods. “It’s your favorite Thai restaurant.” “I have good taste then.”
I had hoped he’d laugh at my little attempt at levity, but instead, he furrows his brow. “Tess, I’m sorry I had to take your phone.”
“It’s fine. You’re right. I probably would lose it during the night.”
“Yes but…” He looks troubled. “I’m your husband, not your father. I shouldn’t be telling you what to do. But… you do lose your phone whenever I let you keep it. I’m just trying to do the right thing.”
“I understand.” “Do you?”
“Yes.” And I do. Sort of. “But… you say I usually get confused at night…”
He nods. “Very confused. Sometimes you even forget your own name.”
A little shiver goes down my spine. “But that’s the thing.
I don’t feel…”
I had been about to tell him that I don’t feel confused. But just as the words are coming out of my mouth, I realize that my tongue feels heavy. A wave of dizziness washes over me, and for a moment, I almost feel too tired to pick up my fork and take another bite.
“Tess?”
“I’m okay.” I shake my head and my right temple throbs. “I just feel a little tired.”
And that’s when I realize my words have started to slur like I’ve had a few too many drinks. If I didn’t feel so tired, I might panic. Despite my memory loss, I’ve felt fairly normal today. But suddenly, my brain feels like it’s in a complete fog.
“Graham…” My mouth feels like it’s full of cotton. “There’s something wrong with me.”
Graham’s eyes soften. “I told you—this happens every night. You get more confused as the evening goes on. That’s why I wanted to put your phone away.”
My eyelids feel almost leaden. I don’t know how I got so tired. Twenty minutes ago, I felt fine. Is this my brain shutting down for the night? And resetting, getting rid of all the memories I acquired today…
I don’t want that. I don’t want to forget today. I don’t want to forget Graham and Ziggy. But I already feel it slipping away from me.
I take another gulp of water, hoping the cold liquid will clear my head. It doesn’t help.
“Do you still want to watch a movie?” he asks gently. “Or we can go straight to sleep if you’d like…”
“I…”
I don’t want to go to bed. No, no, no. I need to remember. There’s something I need to remember.
I take another sip of water. The last drops of liquid from the cup slide down my throat. It’s almost becoming hard to swallow. Does this happen every night?
“I’m tired,” I manage.
“I know, Tess.” Graham reaches across the table and takes my hand in his. His hand is soft and warm. I’m lucky to have him. What would I do otherwise? I’d have to be in an institution. Thank God for Graham. Thank God. “Let’s get you to bed.”
I stare down at my water glass in front of me. I consumed nearly every drop of the water, but the glass isn’t quite empty. Instead, there’s a little white film in the bottom of the glass. Like a fine white powder.
Oh my God.
Something was in my drink.
