Page 55 of With Love

Adrienne

My body lurches forward slightly, waking me from my slumber. I ended up laying my chair back and falling asleep shortly into the drive. I look around. We’ve stopped in the parking lot of a Japanese restaurant.

“Where are we?” I ask, confusion on my face.

“Hop out and I’ll show you,” Marshall answers.

Hopping down out of the mammoth of a car we’re in, I start walking toward the restaurant, until I hear Marshall begin to speak from behind me.

“If you’re hungry we can grab a bite to eat, but I don’t think they’re open yet,” he laughs.

I place my hand in his when he offers it to me and he leads me toward the intersection at the bottom of the small hill that we’re on.

Turning to face me, Marshall grabs my other hand and holds both of mine between his.

“I brought you here this morning, to show you the place where we first met. You already know what happened, but I thought maybe being here in person would help with your memory. You’ve been having blips here and there, like with the muffin this morning.”

“I knew I liked them as soon as I saw it. But it’s like my mind was telling me that I was lying. It’s hard to explain.”

“Well, I am going to be reminding you of every little thing that you like or any habits that you have, like twirling your hair when you’re deep in thought. Anytime you think you might be remembering something, let me know and I’ll be there to tell you if it’s a memory or not.

“Lucy and I were talking about this one day. She said that it seems like you have something called psychogenic amnesia due to neurological distress. Basically, memory loss due to the drug that Lock gave you the night that he took you. She, well, we both think that your memories are being held hosta… ah, sorry. Poor word choice.”

“No, it’s fine,” I comfort him.

“But, with consistent triggering of certain events, we believe we can break through the amnesia and force those memories to reveal themselves again.”

The idea of Marshall and Lucy sitting around, talking about my “condition” without me there rubs me the wrong way. But, I don’t want to ruin the day that Marshall has planned so, I let it go.

“Makes sense,” I offer him a smile. “So, what exactly happened here that day?”

As the cars drive past us, headed to their driver’s destination, Marshall walks me through the afternoon that we met.

“We were trying to exchange information, but you looked like you were going to pass out. You mentioned that you were fine, but that you hadn’t eaten that day yet. When you told me that, my inner caveman came out and all I could think of was how I needed to take care of you. It was one in the afternoon, so once Ritchie towed your car away, you and I went to grab a bite to eat.”

“When we first pulled up, I recognized that restaurant up there,” I pointed toward where we parked the SUV. “But, it’s a chain, so I figured I had just seen a different one at some point.”

“That’s where we were originally going to eat that day. I just picked it because it was closest. But in the short amount of time that it took to get your car towed, I decided that I wanted to take you somewhere else. Somewhere special.”

I close my eyes, trying to picture the scene that he has painted for me. I try reaching my mind out as far as I can, grasping, trying to grab ahold of anything that I can think of from that day.

Spaghetti.

“Spaghetti?” I ask, my eyes still closed, a skeptical look on my face.

I open my eyes when he doesn’t respond and he is standing there with a big goofy grin on his face.

“Come on,” he cocks his head toward the parking lot and leads me back to the car.

* * *

“Okay, so, the noodles are cooking and our garlic is sautéing. Next, we want to put all of our ingredients, the olives, tomatoes, etc., into the pan.” I’m currently instructing the executive chef of Serenata, Emiliano, how to cook his own Spaghetti Puttanesca. The guy has three-Michelin stars, no pressure here.

Marshall brought me to Serenata, an Italian restaurant in the city. I recognized the gold lettering on the side of the brick building, but I don’t remember eating here before. When we first got here, Chef approached me and wrapped me in a big hug. He caught me off-guard and I nearly passed out from panic. I don’t like meeting new people, but I had to when I was still with Lock. He was always showing me off to his colleagues. But to be touched in any way by someone that I don’t know, I can’t handle that.

“Magnifico, Adrienne!” he shouts at me in his thick accent, before kissing his fingertips and throwing his hand up in the air. He could tone down the enthusiasm a little, but I am glad that I got it right. “You did a very good job, you remembered everything perfectly. Let me grab a few plates and we can try it to make sure it tastes as good as it looks.”

I like it in here, it’s like something out of a mobster movie, where they have people counting stolen and laundered money in a room hidden behind the kitchen. When we first got here, Marshall took me to see the dining room. He showed me “our table” where we sat the first time we came here and every time after that.

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