When I sit down in the chair a minute later, Lenore asks me if I've made any progress on my homework.
“Oh…a little.” I’ve forgotten all about aversion therapy. It’s the furthest thing from my mind. “Yeah, I started thinking about it. I went outside at night, and lay on a blanket to put myself in the mindset of being exposed. But then I got distracted.”
“Another bear?” she asks.
“Nah. Daphne. But look—something weird just happened.”
I unlock my phone and show her the godawful texts I exchanged with Daphne all those years ago. And she winces at all the same places I did.
“But that’s not even the strangest thing,” I point out. “This Saturday night when Daphne was waiting for me? I’m pretty sure it’s the same one that I ended up in the hospital.”
Lenore’s eyes widen. “You think it is? Or you know it is?”
“Well, this was for the Saturday night of Open Weekend. I woke up in the hospital two days later. And they said I was injured at an off-campus party.”
“You were supposed to take Daphne to an off-campus party,” Lenore says slowly.
“Right.”
“Wow, Rickie. Maybe you didn't stand her up at all. Maybe you got hurt and never read these texts!”
“Maybe,” I say slowly. The timing doesn’t quite work, though. Unless… “Hey, can I ask you a favor?”
“Sure?”
“Can you pull my file and look at the oldest stuff in it? The date of my injury wasn’t really interesting to me before. But now—”
“Yeah, okay,” she agrees. “But I do remember that the medical stuff in there was super thin. The Academy didn’t send us much to go on. But I’ll try. No matter what, you’re not the kind of guy who stands a girl up without a good reason.”
“Aren’t I?” I lean back in the chair, and close my eyes. The usual blank wall greets me. And it’s just as frustrating as ever. No—it’s worse. A man is supposed to take responsibility for his actions. And I don’t even know what mine were.
I open my eyes again. “That's really seductive thinking, Lenore. Like—if I don't remember what happened, I get to choose. I can either decide that I was this dick who screws around with virgins. Or I can be this romantic ideal—the sleeping prince who broke seven bones and couldn’t reach out to the princess. That just sounds too convenient. Did you ever read Choose Your Own Adventure novels?”
“Sure.” She grins. “I liked that one with the unicorn. Sue me.”
“Well, I used to cheat. I’d keep my thumb in the page where I made the last choice. And if I didn’t like the outcome, I’d flip back and try again. That’s me right now deciding whether I’m unlucky or just a dick.”
“Now hang on.” She leans forward in her chair. “First of all, every kid cheated with those books. I had an elaborate system of numbered bookmarks so I could reverse any decision.”
I bark out a laugh. “I knew you were an overachiever.”
“Shut up. And second—you’re still no different from the rest of us. Reframing your past is what everyone who sits in that chair is doing. Every guy who’s telling me about his own failed marriage is trying to decide if he’s unlucky or just a dick. You’re not that special. Nobody needs to forget his past to realize that it has several different interpretations.”
“Oh, please. Like it wouldn’t be helpful to know what my intentions were?”
She smiles really sweetly at me, and it’s irritating as hell. “Rickie, look. You don't have to remember the events of that night in December to know who you are.”
“God, if you’re about to tell me to click my heels together and say, ‘There’s no place like home,’ I’m asking for my money back.”
Lenore belly laughs. But after she’s done, she gives me a wise smile. “Look. We are all trying to survive our pasts, so we can live with ourselves in the present. Even if you woke up tomorrow remembering every minute of your lost year, it wouldn’t matter. You can choose which Rickie you are. Just decide. And whatever choice you make will be the absolute truth.”
“Okay,” I agree, because that excellent speech deserves acknowledgment.
I only wish I believed her.
Sixteen
Daphne
I’d thought that Rickie would be smug about my decision to have dinner with him. But he’s quiet as we make the final delivery of applejack to the bar. I watch through the windshield as he carries the crate inside, muscles bulging, eyes feral. He