Although I had only ‘known’ him for a few weeks, his temper didn’t scare me. I guess part of me recognized that it wasn’t directed at me. He was angry with himself.
“There’s nothing to talk about. It was an accident.” I spoke the truth, and yet bitterness made me turn my face to the window. We had argued. Everyone did; that didn’t bother me. An accident had occurred. That was no one’s fault. It was the outcome that made my head and heart ache in equal measures.
It was the loss of me, and the possibility that I might never recoup that loss.
“Please don't break this heart, it's endured so very much, it survived the fall.”
Tyler Knott Gregson
November 28 │Birdie
THE PHONE RANG MONDAY MORNING AS I WAS STEPPING OUT OF THE SHOWER. I toweled the ends of my hair, squeezing the excess water gently from its long lengths, as I squinted at the unfamiliar number.
No more surprises. Yesterday’s revelation of Hayes’s presence — no, his involvement — in my accident was still a fresh wound. I couldn’t take much more.
Taking a deep breath, I pressed speaker.
“Hello?”
“May I speak with Bernadette Grant, please?” The caller’s voice was a male tenor I didn’t recognize.
“Speaking.”
“Oh! Fabulous. Ms. Grant, this is Rodney Toney from Toney and Associates.”
There was an expectant pause, during which I dried myself and with a few brisk movements, wrapped my hair in a turban. Its length was a heavy weight, especially wet. Not for the first time, I contemplated cutting it.
“Ms. Grant? Did I lose you? I think I lost —”
“I’m here. Sorry. How may I help you, Mr. Toney?”
Another pause. I pulled a bottle of lotion to the edge of the counter and began massaging it into my skin, with special attention to my stomach. I studied its curve in the mirror. Was it my imagination, or was I starting to show? I was probably going to need maternity clothes before too much longer.
A throat cleared. “Ms. Grant. We had you scheduled to report for orientation yesterday, but you failed to show. I’m calling to see if there’s anything amiss, or if there was perhaps a misunderstanding regarding your duties?”
I stopped moisturizing and stared at the phone in dismay before picking it up and taking the man off speaker. “Oh, my God. Mr. Toney, I am so, so sorry. This is embarrassing.” Wrapping myself in a second towel, I sat on the edge of the bathtub. “There’s been a mistake.” I couldn’t believe no one had contacted this place, where I’d apparently been hired. Maybe no one knew? “I’m going to have to back track a bit. I was injured in a car accident last month. I woke up several days after the accident from a medically induced coma. I have no memory of the accident or practically everything that came before.”
“Oh, dear…”
“I’m assuming Toney and Associates hired shortly before the middle of November?
“Yes.” I hear papers rustling and he gives me a date just the day before my accident.
“That explains it, then. With the accident on its heels, it’s likely I hadn’t yet informed my fiancé. He’s tried, otherwise, to contact everyone who needs to know of my circumstances.
“I see. Ms. Grant, I’m dreadfully sorry to hear about this. I hope you are recovering well?”
He asked me several probing questions about the extent of my injury and memory loss, probably trying to ascertain my ability to do the job I’d been hired for. I could set his mind at ease on that issue, at least. “Given the circumstances, I will not be able to accept the position.”
“No, no. I quite understand. Please come and see us when you’ve recovered. We were looking forward to adding you as a team member.”
With a few further words of thanks and well-wishes, we ended the call. I sat on the tub for another minute, staring blankly into middle space.
One more thing I’d lost.
Suddenly I wanted to talk to someone. No, I needed to talk to someone. Remi. Mom. Even Levi. Anyone.
I tried Remi first. It went immediately to voicemail, so I hung up to leave her alone. She only did that when she was in the middle of something and couldn’t be interrupted.
Mom would be at work, finishing up the last of her shifts before the restaurant closed and she left for Georgia.
That left Levi. I led with a text, trying to come across as casual so he wouldn’t feel sorry for me.
Me: whatcha doing?
Levi: I was sleeping, but then this pretty girl woke me up...
Me: ah, sorry. Want to meet for breakfast?
Levi: sure. Should I ask where or just send you an address?
Me: [laughing emoji] address, please
I took an Uber to the restaurant Levi sent me an address for. It was a small, squatty brick diner that looked as though it had been around since the nineteen-fifties. I walked in with an uncertain glance around, taking in the crowd and ambiance before finding Levi at a booth in the back corner. It was bright and busy and cleaner than the exterior would have led me to believe, with fluorescent track lighting and red metal lamps hanging above each Formica table. A bar ran the length of the single room, it’s red pleather seats packed shoulder to hip with men in heavy Carhartt jackets and work pants. The only woman in the room, other than myself, was an older woman working the counter.
“Take a seat anywhere, darlin’,” she hollered, turning to slap a ticket on the pass through. I caught a glimpse of her name tag as I made my way past her to slide in across from Levi.
Her name was Flo.
Why that made me feel like giggling, I didn’t know.
“Nice place,” I greeted.
He quirked a brow toward the woman. “That’s my mom. This is her diner.”
“You lie.”
“Hand to God.” He raised his palm up, expression earnest.
“I don’t believe you. You know it’s not cool to mock amnesiacs, right?”
He cocked his head. “Is that a thing? Mocking amnesiacs?”
Shaking my head with a little huff of laughter, I turned my attention to the menu. “What’s good?”
“Everything. What’s wrong?”
His eyes, when they met mine, were assessing. “Nothing’s wrong. Why would anything be wrong?”
Flo came to take our order, interrupting whatever Levi was about to say. “What can I get for you?”
“Um...pancakes, please. And a side of fried apples and scrambled eggs. Oh, do you have hash browns?” She nodded. “Those, too. And bacon, of course. Can’t have breakfast without bacon.”
Flo’s eyebrows arched into her hairline and she looked at Levi. “You finally picked a girl who’s not afraid to eat. And I’m making you oatmeal and turkey bacon. You have practice later.”
“Yes, Ma.”
She ruffled his sandy hair and walked away, leaving me with my mouth agape. “Told you,” Levi teased.
I closed my mouth with a snap before picking up in what she’d said. “Practice? What sport do you play?”
“I can tell something’s wrong,” he answered instead. “What’s up?”