Page 21 of Question Everything

“They were just taking a moment out of their day,” he said.

“Here, on your block? Does that seem likely to you?” she asked incredulously.

“Not really, but without more to go on, I have to believe it at face value for now. Besides, their identification didn’t raise any red flags in the system. The officers who showed up ran their information. No hits.”

She shook her head. “Okay, I guess you know what you’re talking about. You’re the detective.” Mia remarked.

“Maybe. Or maybe we just need to get out of here for a bit. We could take a walk when Sarah wakes up. It’s a beautiful day. A little chilly, but the sun is out. I could show you around the neighborhood.”

“That sounds lovely,” she said. “I’ll pull out some warm things for the baby to wear. We could all use some air. And if there’s a market nearby, we could pick up something to make for dinner. Perhaps if I see some groceries I’ll be able to remember how to make a dish or two.”

“You mastered breakfast, that’s for sure. And I can always make us pasta tonight. You don’t need to cook again.”

“Eggs and bacon seem like the kind of food you don’t need your memory to prepare. A simple pasta as well. But I’m thinking that if I’m presented with a variety of things, I might recall which go together to become something reasonable to eat. Or at least that’s the plan.”

“If you say so,” Kyle replied. “There’s a Trader Joe’s in walking distance of here. I’m sure there are some other things you might need as well. Do you have enough diapers and wipes for now?”

“Probably not, but I’ll check,” she said.

“Why don’t you do that while I go see if I can figure anything else out from the report on the men who parked outside. Once the baby wakes up, we can go out for a while.”

“Sounds good, I’ll just be a few minutes,” she said as she tiptoed into the bedroom.

Kyle watched her go and wondered just how long she’d be there with him, in his house, in his life. When he finally put the pieces to this puzzle together – and he knew that it would happen -- would he feel good about sending her back to whomever was waiting for her, wherever that was? Would they stay in touch? Would he ever see her again? He stood up straight.Holy shit. Cut it out. You’re just here to help this woman get back on her feet. You’re not friends. You barely know her. Stop being pathetic and get on with it.

He turned toward his office and with a determined air, put himself in front of his computer screen and saw that his own lifehad caught up to him. He had an email letting him know that his range test was scheduled for the day before Halloween. The good news was that it must mean that he was inching closer to being released from administrative leave. The more concerning news was that he was going to have to shoot his gun, even if only at a target. He sighed. He could obsess over the final hurdle before he got his badge back, or he could shake it off and try to uncover Mia’s identity. He put his head down and got to work.

An hourlater they were in one of the aisles of Trader Joes. It wasn’t too crowded, and Mia was pushing the stroller while he pushed a small cart growing crowded with groceries. She had put some potatoes and carrots as well as a whole chicken in their haul and was now looking for fresh thyme and rosemary. Apparently, roast chicken was another one of the meals she claimed one needed no memory to prepare. They rounded one end-cap filled with a variety of brightly packaged, Halloween themed chocolate bars.

“Look at all the sweets!” she exclaimed. “What day is it?”

Before he replied, it registered on him that she didn’t say “candy,” but instead said, “sweets.” Then he thought again about the fact that she had an accent when they first met, but not after that. “It’s October 28th,” he said. “Halloween is a few days from now.”

“Halloween,” she repeated. “Costumes and ghost stories, right? I’m not so far gone as to not remember that!”

“True, but we call this candy. You just called it sweets.”

“Candy, sweets, it’s all the same, isn’t it? It must be something I heard somewhere,” she shrugged her shoulders, looking as confused as he felt.

“You didn’t hear it here in the states. Or at least not here in the northeast.”

“What are you thinking, Kyle? Do you think I’m from somewhere else? I mean, not from New York at the very least?”

“Well, you were heading north. Maybe you’re from Canada? Maybe that’s where you were going?”

He made a mental note to check the use of language in Canada, to see what exactly they called candy there. But if he was a betting man, and he went back again to the sound of her voice when he first found her at the crash, he was starting to think that she was from somewhere else. Somewhere across an ocean.Should I mention that she spoke with a British accent when I first found her? Would that confuse her even more?

“I wish I knew, Kyle. If I did, I would be out of your hair. I keep waiting for a thunderbolt, you know? A revelation of some sort that would jolt me back into my life.”

“Did you ever think that maybe whatever it was that caused the accident is the reason you truly don’t remember?”

“What do you mean?”

He looked at her across a large display of organic broccoli and thought better of having this conversation in the produce aisle of his local market.

“Never mind. I just think that the brain is a mysterious and complicated organ. There’s got to be an explanation for your amnesia.”

“You mean other than a really hard hit on the head? The emergency room physician didn’t seem that concerned. He didn’t even suggest a follow-up appointment. He just told me to give it time and my memory should come back.”

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