Page 11 of Question Everything

“I believe that you did. If not, we’ll have to book you for violating our traffic laws,” he said with a wide smile.

“You’re making fun of me know, aren’t you?”

“That’s the hazard of coming from a large family. We’re always teasing each other.”

“It must be nice,” she said, furrowing her forehead. A random thought crossed her mind.She had a brother. Yes, she did! Where, though?

“Are you feeling some pain?” he asked. “Would you like more Tylenol?”

She realized that he was reacting to her expression. “No, no. I just had the overwhelming feeling that I have a family out there. I just can’t remember, exactly. It’s like a fuzzy memory or something.”

“Well, you did suffer a concussion. I think you’ll have more recall as time goes by. It’ll happen slowly. But I’m confident that it will all come back to you, don’t worry about it. You just need some real rest.”

“I hope you’re right,” she said.

She watched him turn the omelet out onto a wooden board and cut it evenly, placing each half on a separate plate. Then he reached back for the toast, put two slices on the board and slathered each with butter before giving her one and keeping one for himself.

“Would you like some strawberry jam?” he asked.

“No, thanks. I’m good with this.”

He handed her a napkin, a fork, and a knife. “Dig in,” he said as he cut into his own dinner. They ate in silence for a minute before he added, “You’ve got this mom thing down pat. I mean, your daughter seems happy and healthy, and you can eat dinner while you wear her in that contraption.”

“It’s funny,” she said between bites. “I knew how this carrier worked without even thinking about it, but I can’t remember my own name. Weird.”

“Like I said. Don’t dwell on it. Besides, I’m here to back you up until you get better and remember everything else.”

“I will figure out a way to make this up to you,” she said, immediately regretting the words and stammering to cover their double meaning. “I mean, I’ll cook tomorrow. I’m sure I can remember how to make something simple, at the very least.”

“Don’t worry about that now,” he said with a smile.

She hoped he didn’t sense her unease.

He continued, “The best thing you can do for me is recover fully. I’ll feel like I’ve done some good when you’re all better, like I put something positive into the world.”

“I’m sure that as a detective you’ve helped a lot of people. That type of work is a lifetime of service to others, isn’t it?”

She watched as a painful shadow crossed his eyes and couldn’t help but wonder what he wasn’t telling her. Perhaps it was all the bad he’d seen on the streets of this city, or maybe he just didn’t like his work at all. A pervasive sadness hovered around him, and for some reason she wished that she could ease the pain she sensed sat right beneath his confident exterior.

“I’ve seen my fair share of both the positives and negatives of my job. But for right now –”

Just then there was a loud knock on the front door.

“That must be Devon,” he said as he made his way to the entrance of the condo.

If her brain wasn’t so muddled, she might have believed that he was glad for the interruption. She turned on the stool to see a short, stocky black man, loaded down with luggage push a baby carriage across the doorway. She saw a woman’s purse resting in the seat, a pink and white knitted blanket folded underneath. He stopped in the entryway, unloaded everything in a heap and stepped around her belongings with his right hand extended her way.

“I’m Devon Riley. And you might be…”

She just looked at him blankly.

“Ah, right. Still nothing, huh?” he asked her.

“No, not yet. Kyle assures me that I will remember, though. It will just take some time.”

“Well, this might help,” he said, stepping back over to the carriage and lifting out the purse. He brought the soft black leather hobo shaped bag over to her. “Open it. Perhaps you have a wallet inside with some identification.”

“Come to think of it, Devon, why didn’t the uniforms who responded to the accident bring that bag to the hospital?”

---