Remember Me?

I look up to see Eric staring at me.

“It’s strange,” he says at last. “You’re not yourself. The doctors warned me, but I didn’t realize it would be so…extreme.” For a moment he looks almost overcome, then his shoulders straighten. “Anyway, we’ll get you right again. I know we will.” He carefully puts the ring back on the cabinet, sits down on the bed, and takes my hand. “And just so you know, Lexi…I love you.”

“Really?” I beam delightedly before I can stop myself. “I mean…fab. Thanks very much!”

None of my boyfriends has ever said “I love you” like that-i.e., properly, in the middle of the day, like a grownup, and not just pissed or while having sex. I have to reciprocate. What shall I say?

I love you too.

No.

I probably love you too.

No.

“Eric, I’m sure I love you too, deep down somewhere,” I say at last, clasping his hand. “And I’ll remember. Maybe not today. And maybe not tomorrow. But…we’ll always have Paris.” I pause, thinking this through. “At least, you’ll have it. And you can tell me about it.”

Eric looks slightly mystified.

“Eat your lunch and take a rest.” He pats my shoulder. “I’ll leave you in peace.”

“Maybe I’ll wake up tomorrow and remember everything,” I say hopefully as he gets to his feet.

“Let’s hope.” He scans my face for a moment or two. “But even if you don’t, my darling, we’ll sort this out. Deal?”

“Deal.” I nod.

“See you later.”

He lets himself out quietly. I sit still in the silence for a moment. My head’s starting to throb again and I’m a bit dazed. It’s all too much. Amy has blue hair and Brad Pitt has a love child with Angelina Jolie and I have a gorgeous husband who just said he loves me. I’m half-expecting to go to sleep and wake up back in 2004, hungover on Carolyn’s floor, and find this was all a dream.

Chapter 6

But it was no dream. I wake up the next morning and it’s still 2007. I still have shiny perfect teeth and bright chestnut hair. And I still have a big black hole in my memory. I’m just eating my third piece of toast and taking a sip of tea when the door opens and Nicole appears, wheeling a trolley laden with flowers. I gape at it, impressed by the array. There must be about twenty arrangements on there. Tied bouquets…orchids in pots…grand-looking roses…

“So…is one of these mine?” I can’t help asking.

Nicole looks surprised. “All of them.”

“All of them?” I splutter, almost spilling my tea.

“You’re a popular girl! We’ve run out of vases!” She hands me a stack of little cards. “Here are your messages.”

“Wow.” I take the first card and read it.

Lexi-darling girl. Look after yourself,

get well, see you very soon, all my love.

Rosalie.

Rosalie? I don’t know anyone called Rosalie. Bemused, I put it aside for later and read the next one.

Best wishes and get well soon.

Tim and Suki.

I don’t know Tim and Suki, either.

Lexi, get well soon! You’ll soon be back to three hundred reps! From all your friends at the gym.

Three hundred reps? Me?

Well, I guess that would account for the muscled legs. I reach for the next card-and at last, it’s from people I actually know.

Get well soon, Lexi. All best wishes from Fi,

Debs, Carolyn, and everyone in Flooring.

As I read the familiar names, I feel a warm glow inside. It’s stupid, but I almost thought my friends had forgotten all about me.

Nicole interrupts my thoughts. “So your husband’s quite a stu

“D’you think so?” I try to appear nonchalant. “Yeah, he is quite nice-looking, I suppose…”

“He’s amazing! And you know, he came around the ward yesterday, thanking us all again for looking after you. Not many people do that.”

“I’ve never been out with a guy like Eric in my life!” I abandon all pretense at being nonchalant. “To be honest, I still can’t believe he’s my husband. I mean, me. And him.”

There’s a knock on the door and Nicole calls, “Come in!”

It opens and in come Mum and Amy, both looking hot and sweaty, lugging between them about six shopping bags stuffed with photograph albums and envelopes.

“Good morning!” Nicole smiles as she holds the door open. “Lexi’s feeling a lot better today, you’ll be glad to hear.”

“Oh, don’t tell me she’s remembered everything!” Mum’s face drops. “After we’ve carried all these pictures all this way. Do you know how heavy photograph albums are? And we couldn’t find a space in the car park-”

Nicole cuts her off. “She’s still experiencing severe memory loss.”

“Thank goodness for that!” Mum suddenly notices Nicole’s expression. “I mean…Lexi, darling, we’ve brought some pictures to show you. Maybe they’ll trigger your memory.”

I eye the bag of photos, suddenly excited. These pictures will tell my missing story. They’ll show me my transformation from Snaggletooth to…whoever I am now. “Fire away!” I put down all the flower messages and sit up. “Show me my life!”

I’m learning a lot from this hospital stay. And one thing I’ve learned is, if you have a relative with amnesia and want to trigger her memory, just show her any old picture-it doesn’t matter which one. It’s ten minutes later, but I haven’t seen a single photo yet, because Mum and Amy keep arguing about where to start.

“We don’t want to overwhelm her,” Mum keeps saying as they both root through a bag of pictures. “Now, here we are.” She picks up a photo in a cardboard frame.

“No way.” Amy grabs it from her. “I’ve got a zit on my chin. I look gross.”

“Amy, it’s a tiny pimple. You can hardly see it.”

“Yes, you can. And this one is even grosser!” She starts ripping both photographs into shreds.

Here I am, waiting to learn all about my long-lost life, and Amy’s destroying the evidence?

“I won’t look at your zits!” I call over. “Just show me a picture! Anything!”

“All right.” Mum advances toward the bed, holding an unframed print. “I’ll hold it up, Lexi. Just look at the image carefully and see if it jogs anything. Ready?” Mum turns the print around.

It’s a picture of a dog dressed up as Santa Claus.

“Mum…” I try to control my frustration. “Why are you showing me a dog?”

“Darling, it’s Tosca!” Mum appears wounded. “She would have looked very different in 2004. And here’s Raphael with Amy last week, both looking lovely…”

“I look hideous.” Amy snatches the picture and rips it up before I can even see it.

“Stop ripping up the pictures!” I almost yell. “Mum, did you bring photographs of anything else? Like people?”

“Hey, Lexi, do you remember this?” Amy comes forward, holding up a distinctive necklace with a rose made out of jade. I squint at it, trying desperately to dredge some memory up.

“No,” I say at last. “It doesn’t jog anything at all.”

“Cool. Can I have it, then?”

“Amy!” says Mum. She riffles through the pictures in her hand with dissatisfaction. “Maybe we should just wait for Eric to come with the wedding DVD. If that doesn’t trigger your memory, nothing will.”

The wedding DVD.

My wedding.

Every time I think about this, my stomach curls up with a kind of excited, nervous anticipation. I have a wedding DVD. I had a wedding! The thought is alien. I can’t even imagine myself as a bride. Did I wear a pouffy dress with a train and a veil and some hideous floral headdress? I can’t even bring myself to ask.

“So…he seems nice,” I say. “Eric, I mean. My husband.”