over, checking her eyes and shit.
“What’s the last thing you remember?” he asks her. I sit on the edge of the chair, waiting and praying she doesn’t say shit about me not being her husband.
“Nothing. I don’t remember anything. Not even my name,” she says sadly. Fuck me.
“Do you remember your husband?” he asks, nodding toward me. Here we go. Her eyes come to meet mine and widen as she looks me over. I almost laugh at the look in her eyes. She moves her head from side to side slowly, but her eyes never leave mine.
“You okay?” I ask her.
“It’s more than likely from the hit to the head. Most of the time when this happens, the memories will slowly come back with time. You just need to rest and heal. I will have a nurse check your chart and see when you can go home.” Home? Well, fuck. She can’t come home with me. Maybe I can sneak out of here before that happens.
“Where do we live?” she asks, looking over at me as the doc leaves. Talk about being put in the spotlight. Guess sneaking out isn’t happening.
“Uh we’ve been stayin’ at a hotel.”
“A hotel? We don’t have a house?” she asks, wrinkling her nose.
“House fire. Lost everything.” Her jaw drops and hangs there as she stares at me.
“Did we… do we have kids? Pets?” I shake my head and swallow hard. This is getting harder to do.
“No. We’ve only been married a short time. Barely know each other, honestly.” She flops her head back against the pillow, confused as ever. I can’t say I blame her. I’m trying to compartmentalize my damn lies so I can keep them all straight here.
“Did I work?” she asks softly.
“Yeah. As a stripper,” I blurt out. Jesus. I can see the tears form in her eyes from here. I shouldn’t have said that, but what the fuck else am I supposed to say? It’s what I told the cops; I have to keep my stories straight.
“So, I’m a whore? Is that how we met?” She turns her head and her light brown eyes catch mine.
“You’re not a whore and no, we didn’t meet there. I met you at the uh… grocery store.” Could I be any more cliché? The fucking grocery store? Her smile slowly comes back when she reaches up and wipes her eyes.
“At least I didn’t fuck you for money,” she adds.
“Well there was that one time,” I tease, earning a smile.
“I’m sorry I can’t remember you. I’m sure you’re a great person.” I nearly choke on my own spit as I nod my head. “Where is your shirt?”
“Used it to apply pressure to your wound.”
“Thank you for that too.”
“Don’t keep thankin’ me. I was hurt once, too, and I woke up alone. I didn’t want that for you,” I finally admit to her. Her eyes stay locked with mine.
“Did I leave you alone?” The pain in her voice kills me. She thinks she left me alone. I shake my head.
“No, babe. It wasn’t you.”
“What’s your name?”
“James.”
“What’s my name?”
“Amy.”
Chapter Five
I’ve watched her struggle for days trying to remember anything, but she always comes up blank. I hate that she can’t remember, but at the same time, I’m glad she doesn’t. Then she would call me on my bullshit. I know at some point her memory will come back and then I’m pretty fucked. For now, this is what I’m doing. I couldn’t just leave her there to figure something out on her own.
Sitting in the back of the taxi, I watch out the window as we move through the Wisconsin streets. I’m thankful for this little ass town I ended up in. Not that it’s anything special, but it keeps me off the grid for now. Amy sits next to me, fidgeting in her seat. We’ve stopped and got her medicine and all that before heading back to the hotel. I left yesterday for a little while to grab some clothes for her. I couldn’t have my wife come home without anything to put on. Besides, that would look suspicious.
We pull to a stop outside the run-down motel. I climb out and come around, helping Amy from the car, leading her toward our room. It isn’t much and I hate that this is where she has to be to recover but I dug this goddamn hole myself.
“This is it?” she asks, looking up at me as I nod. I pull the key out and open the door to