Page 123 of Grave Matter

It’s full of Polaroid pictures.

I reach inside and start rummaging through them.

There are pictures of me and Kincaid together. Many pictures of us together. Kissing under mistletoe. Dancing. Having beers in the sunshine on the boat. Playing bocce ball in the field. Feeding a seal.

There are also pictures of me and Dr. Wu laughing about something. As I flip through, there are a lot of pictures of me and Dr. Wu. Going for a hike, roasting marshmallows, working in the lab.

Janet, I think.You called her Janet.

There are pictures of Everly too. Some at Christmas where she’s posing with a Santa hat or making a small snowman. One while whale watching, Everly smiling at the camera with the wind in her hair. She and I on the couch in her cabin, drinking pink martinis.

There’s even one of me and Amani, lying in a pile of autumn leaves and throwing them up in the air.

Amani.

Tears start to burn behind my eyes as the truth slowly creeps up on me.

I’m starting to remember.

I look up at Wes, at his familiar, beautiful face. His eyes are brimming with emotion, barely restrained.

“Wes?” I whisper to him.

The corner of his mouth lifts. “Hey, sweetheart,” he says quietly.

A tear rolls down his cheek.

Oh my god.

I stare down at the pictures again, my old life coming back to me in pieces, all my emotions coming first.

But so much is missing. Too much is missing.

I know…I know I…

“What happened to me?” I ask, but even as I do so, alarm creeps in. I close my eyes, my mind so desperate to remember.

“I don’t know if you’re ready to hear,” he says.

“Please don’t lie to me anymore,” I tell him, my eyes flashing open. “Please, I can’t bear it.”

He shakes his head, his mouth grim. “Later.”

“Later?” I repeat, getting to my feet. “What the fuck, Wes? What happened to me? How come I can remember everything, but…but…I don’t know what the last thing I remember is. I look at these pictures, and I remember the moments, but themoments aren’t stringing together. There’s no form. There’s no function. I remember these things, and that’s it. My life is a mosaic.”

“We need to get out of this storm first,” he says, moving for the stairs.

“No!” I yell at him, punching him in the shoulder. “Stop fucking lying to me! Why were you all lying to me?” I grab my head. “Oh my god, I can’t even think. I can’t think. I don’t know who I am.” I stare at him and scream, “I don’t know who I am!”

“Calm down,” he says, panic in his eyes.

“Fuck you!” I yell. “Don’t tell me to calm down!” I go to shove him again, and I slip on the rug.

My body lurches to the side, and out of my peripheral, I see the taped, broken corner of the dining table rushing up to meet my head.

Suddenly, Wes’ hands wrap around my arm, pulling me back just enough so that I hit the couch instead.

And that’s when it all comes back to me.

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