“I know. I know and I’m sorry that I’m here, but I need to talk to you. I need you to tell me if you saw me last week and if so, what happened.”
“You’re not serious.” She searched my eyes.
“I am.”
She stared at me a moment longer before sighing and shaking her head. “Fine, but you have to drive me to my next class.”
“Fine.”
We started walking toward the parking lot. When we picked our schedules, we made it so that our classes were near each other’s. It would make it easier to get around campus. We would take turns driving, because even though they were short five-minute trips, they added up. Aisha had a job on campus. My job was thirty-five minutes away. My chest squeezed as I thought of the children I’d left behind and Ms. Paxton. Even though the parish school was small, with only a handful of kids in each class, when four six-year-olds were together in a space it was like having sixteen of them. Besides, Ms. Paxton was old. She needed the help.
When I’d called to inform the school I wouldn’t be able to go back to work for a few weeks, they sounded just fine, but Ms. Paxton sounded tired. I glanced over at Aisha, her kinky curls looked damp, as if she’d washed her hair this morning and it was still in the process of drying. Karen had spent a lifetime straightening my hair and buying products that would ease the curl to the point that she’d finally achieved her goal. My hair no longer knew what it wanted to be, so it chose waves. I guess it figured that having no other choice left, it would compromise.
“So,” Aisha said, pulling me out of my thoughts. “Talk.”
“I need you to tell me when the last time you saw me was and what happened.”
“Okay.” She eyed me suspiciously for a second. “Last Friday at The Institute’s cocktail hour.” At the sight of my frown, she continued, “They held an open bar event for psych and med majors and I asked you to go with me.”
“So I went with you? In your car?”
“In your car.”
“And then what happened?”
“We were all drinking and talking. You kept looking at some guy you wanted to talk to but said he was way out of your league. I kept telling you that you were crazy because no one is remotely close to your league and the guy was hot but seemed like an asshole.” She shrugged. “We laughed about it and everything was cool until that man showed up.”
“What man?”
“You seriously don’t remember?” Aisha stopped walking suddenly and turned to me. “You went to the bathroom, but you were taking really long, so I went to check and you weren’t there. I don’t know what bathroom you went to, but whatever.” She shook her head and waved a hand. “When you finally came back, you were talking to a man. Arguing with him. It was weird. I’d never seen him before and I mean, we’ve been friends since high school, I thought I knew most of the people you knew. The argument seemed serious, so I went over there to intervene; you know, I was always in your corner.”
“And?” I swallowed, the “was” in her sentence forming a knot in my throat.
“And you snapped at me. You went off and I mean off. And you know what, Eva, I’m used to your mood swings, but you went off in front of all of my peers and it was not cool. My professors were there, people I have to see every day.” She shook her head. “It was not cool.”
“What did I say? Why did I snap?”
“You told me I needed to mind my own business and back down. To be honest, I don’t know what else you said because I was in such shock, but you started going off about how I wanted to fuck that man you were talking to. It was embarrassing.”
“What?” My frown deepened. “I can’t believe I said any of that.”
“Well, you did. I’m not going to make that up, Eva. Besides, one of my friends, or so-called friends, got it on video and played it back for me at a party the following day. As if I needed to relive that.”
“Aisha.” My heart roared in my ears. I swallowed, trying to clear my clogged-up senses. “I know you hate me right now and I know you don’t trust me, but I need you to get me that video.”
“What the hell is going on with you?” She was looking at me like I was a stranger. “Are you off your meds?”
“I am not off my meds.” My jaw ticked. I hated when people threw my meds in my face as if drugs that diminished my senses and drowned out my emotions were some sort of messiah. Aisha knew this too, but because I hurt her deeply, I tried not to let that statement cloud the conversation at hand. “What happened next?”
“Next.” She blew out a breath. “Everyone started to leave. I told you that I never wanted to talk to you again and left with a friend from one of my classes because I refused to get in the car with you, and that was that.”
“Jesus.” I hit the clicker to unlock my car.
“What is this?”
“What is what?”
“What is this car, Eva?” Aisha pointed at the car.
“It’s a long story. That’s one of the reasons I need to talk to you.”
“I don’t understand.” She looked at the car like it was some sort of death trap and not a brand new, black BMW with all the bells and whistles. “How’d you get this? How can you afford this?”
“I can’t.”
“So how do you—”
“Look, do you want me to drive you to your next class or not?”
“Yeah.”
“So get in and I’ll answer your questions.”
“You seem like you have more questions than answers.”
“You’re not wrong.” I pushed down the driver’s seat and slung my backpack into the backseat. Aisha pushed down the passenger’s seat and did the same. Only then did she look back and see the backpack I was using, and look at me with concern.
“How’d you get a designer backpack?”
“It’s not mine. None of this is mine.” I started the car. Aisha finally closed her door and put her seatbelt on. I glanced over at her and said the words aloud that I hadn’t been able to say to anyone else. “It’s my sister’s.”
“You don’t have a sister.”
“I do now.”
She searched my face for a long moment. I started to drive. At least it gave me something to focus on while she was psychoanalyzing me. We didn’t say a word during our drive and when I parked in front of the building to her next class, she just sat there, looking out the window quietly.
“I don’t understand,” she said after a long moment.
“I don’t either. I really don’t. Friday and Saturday are totally blank in my memory. I don’t remember those days at all.”
“Were you that drunk?”
“On Friday? I must have been.”
“How did you end up with this car? With this backpack?” She eyed me closer now. “With those clothes.”
I explained to her what happened, beginning at the mental institution and ending at The Manor, though I was careful not to go into detail about that. I only said that it was where they’d dropped me off and where I’d been staying. When I finished the recount, I looked over at her, expecting to find a look of disbelief, and sure enough, it was exactly what I was rewarded with.