Page 25 of Amnesty

Amnesia giggled, making the cups bounce around in her hand as I tried to pour the cheap wine.

“Hold still, baby,” I said, nearly dumping it on her fingers.

“Sorry!” she said, going still.

Feeling feisty, I jerked my hand and sloshed the alcohol over the rim and spilled it over her hand.

“Oh!” she said, jerking back. “I’m sorry.”

I set aside the wine, same with the cups, then lifted her hand, the entire time holding her eyes. “I told you, you don’t ever have to apologize to me.”

I brought her hand up and licked it, lapping up the wine I purposely dumped across her skin. Her eyes closed a little, the expression turning fuzzy.

One by one, I slipped her fingers between my lips, dragging up to suck off all the wine. Her body swayed near mine, but I acted as if I didn’t notice. Instead, I just ate up all her fingers, then licked over the back of her hand once more. When all traces of the wine were gone, I kissed the center of her palm.

“Wine?” I asked, abruptly turning away, picking up the cup and extending it to her.

“Uh… yeah,” she murmured.

I suppressed a chuckle.

Watching her over the rim of the cup as I swallowed, I enjoyed her struggling to come back to reality after I’d teased her.

“Let’s walk,” I said, carrying my cup, taking her hand.

The air was pretty cold. October in Maine was fall, but sometimes it felt more like winter. Especially down here on the pebbly shores of Lake Loch, where the breeze off the water was always several degrees cooler than the rest of town.

The water lapped against the shore tonight, not roughly, but not what I would call gently either. Its presence was definitely noted, the sound not unpleasant. I enjoyed the ever-moving being of the lake, the way it changed almost based on a whim, like a moody woman or a pissed-off man.

The moon wasn’t full tonight, but it floated high in the dark sky. Stars sparkled on the horizon and made me think of a summer night instead of a nearly winter one.

“I bet the shoreline is beautiful when it snows,” Amnesia murmured, gazing out ahead of us.

“It is,” I said simply. “We’ll walk down here after the first snow so you can see.”

“When is the first snow usually?” she asked.

I glanced at her out of the corner of my eye. An innocent question, but I didn’t like it. “Actually, anytime now. We’ve been buried under snow on some Halloweens!”

“I don’t remember if I’ve ever seen snow,” she told me. “It’ll be like seeing it for the first time all over again.”

Some of the chilled wine slid down my throat.Screw this.Tiptoeing around my girl wasn’t how I wanted to spend the night. Or any other day for that matter. “Why does it sound like you’re wondering if you’ve seen the first snowfall, Am?”

The wind off the water blew her hair back, revealing all her features as we strolled along the shoreline. We weren’t close enough to get our feet wet, but the pebbles were uneven beneath our shoes. I loved that she looked “undone.” Her beauty was natural, the kind she didn’t work at or fuss with.

“She told me I wasn’t Sadie.” The words blew back at me like her hair in the wind. The plastic cup dented in a little, making a sound, when my hand squeezed around it.

“That’s what she said,” I echoed. I’d been wondering, even guessing what Widow West said to Amnesia that night in the hospital, and of all my ponderings, that was never it.

Amnesia kept walking, her eyes roaming the water and landscape ahead of us. After taking a small sip from her cup, she nodded. “I practically begged—demanded she stop playing games and tell everyone I was Sadie.”

“I know, sweetheart.” I agreed, reaching for her hand. The second I had hers tucked into mine, I felt slightly better, more grounded.

“But then in that room, that’s what she said.”

“And that’s all?” I asked. “Just that you aren’t Sadie?”

I felt her glance from the side of her eye. I didn’t acknowledge it or the turbulence that radiated from her. Close by, a wave crashed on shore.

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