Page 156 of Devotion

“When you’re done, we’re going to the pier. They have the most beautiful new boards. I know, I know. I don’t use the one I have enough.”

“You surf.”

“Of course, silly. We surf. You always have.”

“Right.” I sit down at the kitchen bar, tapping my plate with my fork.

I blink. The bar is smeared in dirt.

No plate in sight. Stumbling back, I feel the walls close in.

They’re gone. My family. They’re all gone.

Ciro, Aless, Adri…

Names without faces. Faces without names.

Rushing to the front door, I step out. Daylight. No cars.

Nothing for miles. Just windy hills. White shores far below. Trees. Overgrown bushes along the walk.

My heart aches for the time when this place was a paradise. But I can’t seem to remember where it is, or who lived here. Someone else. Someone with my face, with another name?

Choking back a sob, I charge through the house, toward the back terrace. The sliding glass door is open, remnants of the glass that paned the window scattered around.

Fingerpaints.

Christmases.

Brunch on the patio.

Stabbing a man who owes us money over and over and?—

“There you are.” Her voice is less sweet. Harsher. But it’s her.

“Circe.”

“I’m glad you remember.”

The woman stands at the once-white stone railing, overlooking another bend in the coast sweeping down below our house. Her house. Some of the disordered memories settle.

Our house.

Our family.

“You’re my wife.” And I know it. Feel it. Remember it.

“I see some of the past is returning to you, Ero.”

“Ero.” A name that makes me think of New York. Italy. Fast cars. Guns.

“Yes. That is your name. Your real name.”

“What do you mean, real?”

“Hm. More will come in time. Sit with me.” Circe pats the seat next to her.

“Where is everyone? What happened?” I lower myself onto the broken old lawn chair.

---