Someone Else's Lady

Kamala walked into the room. I yawned and began to rise from my nap. What was that heavy thing on my wrist? I sat up and inspected it. Handcuffs. What the fuck? Kamala took a key from her pocket and unlocked the constricting device. Then she asked me in German if I remembered it being put on. No, I didn’t. But I did have a feeling that something bad had happened. I didn’t know what—it was just a sense that it had been bad. The woman smiled, then turned and left the room. What was there to smile about, and why had I been cuffed in the first place? I wasn’t one of Angela’s criminals. Ever so carefully, I maneuvered myself toward the edge of the bed and rose to my feet. Hearing Kamala moving around in the kitchen, that’s where I headed. What would have taken me two seconds now took closer to two minutes. Once in the kitchen, I asked Kamala why I’d been handcuffed. Instead, she answered in German, as always, telling me she had prepared some food for me. I wasn’t very hungry, but I ate a little anyway. I wasn’t going to give up that easily, though. After taking a few bites of the blueberry muffin and fresh cantaloupe placed before me, I pressed her again. This time, she spoke in longer sentences at a faster rate. I was fairly sure she was saying something about Angela just looking out for my safety. But what exactly was I supposed to be unsafe from? I would question Angela when she returned… if I remembered to. Later, Kamala took me to my regularly scheduled physical therapy session. She was oddly quiet along the way. But now she didn’t just seem quiet—she seemed distant, cold even. I couldn’t help but wonder why, but I didn’t want to put her on the spot by asking directly. I knew I couldn’t count on an honest answer anyway. How well did I really know Angela’s mother? How well did I even know Angela herself? After therapy, I relaxed on the upper deck, Kamala hovering close by. She always seemed to watch me when her daughter wasn’t around, and I wondered why. While I knew that since the accident, I could remember my past easily enough, I also knew my ability to retain present-day memories wasn’t good. Because of that, certain thoughts crept in. Could I be someone Angela was investigating? But if I were, why would I be living with her and her mother? A deep sense of depression settled over me as I pulled my sweater tighter against the chill air blowing off the lake. The calm water usually soothed me, but today I felt anything but calm. I felt on edge, depressed, and bored out of my mind. Was this how my life was going to be now? I was thirty-five years old. I could live another forty or fifty years. Would I always question people’s motives? Always wonder what happened five minutes ago? Occasionally, I attempted small talk with Kamala, but my German wasn’t as good as my Spanish. Even my Italian was better. Besides, she didn’t seem to care much for conversation, keeping herself buried in a book or a laptop instead. Eventually, Angela came home, and my pulse quickened—and not in a good way. I immediately questioned why her presence made me nervous. She greeted her mother, then turned to me. Was that a hint of suspicion or caution in her azure eyes? “Hey, babe. How ya doing?” “Okay. Just bored and a little down.” “You don’t remember this morning, do you?” I shook my head. “What happened?” “You don’t want to know. I never thought I’d say this, but thank goodness for lack of short-term memory.” She gathered me into her arms, but I pushed away. “Tell me what happened.” She hesitated. “Okay. After Mom turns in for the night, I’ll tell you everything. You’re likely to forget it, but it might feel good to talk about it.” “Promise?” She nodded. “I promise. But anything you remember stays between us.”