Do You Remember(27)

The next sound I hear is the back door slamming shut. And a key turning in a lock.

Graham has now locked the back door.

When Graham returns to the dining room, his face is still pink. He distributes the plates and glasses he brought to the dining table—one plate and glass for me, the other for him. Then he drops into his seat, a scowl on his face.

“Sorry,” he mutters. “That dog is always begging at the table for food. I’m so sick of it. He never listens to what we tell him to do.”

“Maybe he needs obedience lessons?” I suggest. But I don’t really think that. From what I could see today, Ziggy is an incredibly well-behaved dog, save for the last few minutes.

“Maybe…”

“I could call and make an appointment for lessons?”

He scoffs. “Yeah, when exactly would you do that?”

“Tomorrow morning,” I start to say. But then I realize his point. I’m not going to remember to do anything tomorrow morning. When I wake up in the morning, God knows what my last memory will be. I probably won’t even know who Ziggy is, same as this morning.

But maybe I will. Maybe I’ll remember. It seems impossible I could forget this crazy day.

Graham takes a long swig from his water glass. “Let’s eat.”

I pile a stack of noodles onto my plate and Graham does the same. For fifteen minutes, we eat in complete silence. I wonder if that’s what we usually do, or if the conversation flows readily. What can I talk about? Current events? The latest movies? Music? All those topics are difficult for me.

I suppose we could talk about stuff from the past. But I can’t remember any of our shared past. And I can’t remember what conversations we’ve had before. I’m scared anything I say to him will be something I’ve already said dozens of times before. It’s awkward.

So instead, I decide to opt for some small talk. I wrack my brain, trying to think of some mundane topic that will be at least a little interesting.

“The food is pretty good at this place,” I finally say.

Graham nods. “It’s your favorite Thai restaurant.”

“I have good taste then.”

I had hoped he’d laugh at my little attempt at levity, but instead, he furrows his brow. “Tess, I’m sorry I had to take your phone.”

“It’s fine. You’re right. I probably would lose it during the night.”

“Yes but…” He looks troubled. “I’m your husband, not your father. I shouldn’t be telling you what to do. But… you do lose your phone whenever I let you keep it. I’m just trying to do the right thing.”

“I understand.”

“Do you?”

“Yes.” And I do. Sort of. “But… you say I usually get confused at night…”

He nods. “Very confused. Sometimes you even forget your own name.”

A little shiver goes down my spine. “But that’s the thing. I don’t feel…”

I had been about to tell him that I don’t feel confused. But just as the words are coming out of my mouth, I realize that my tongue feels heavy. A wave of dizziness washes over me, and for a moment, I almost feel too tired to pick up my fork and take another bite.

“Tess?”

“I’m okay.” I shake my head and my right temple throbs. “I just feel a little tired.”

And that’s when I realize my words have started to slur like I’ve had a few too many drinks. If I didn’t feel so tired, I might panic. Despite my memory loss, I’ve felt fairly normal today. But suddenly, my brain feels like it’s in a complete fog.

“Graham…” My mouth feels like it’s full of cotton. “There’s something wrong with me.”

Graham’s eyes soften. “I told you—this happens every night. You get more confused as the evening goes on. That’s why I wanted to put your phone away.”

My eyelids feel almost leaden. I don’t know how I got so tired. Twenty minutes ago, I felt fine. Is this my brain shutting down for the night? And resetting, getting rid of all the memories I acquired today…

I don’t want that. I don’t want to forget today. I don’t want to forget Graham and Ziggy. But I already feel it slipping away from me.

I take another gulp of water, hoping the cold liquid will clear my head. It doesn’t help.

“Do you still want to watch a movie?” he asks gently. “Or we can go straight to sleep if you’d like…”

“I…”

I don’t want to go to bed. No, no, no. I need to remember. There’s something I need to remember.

I take another sip of water. The last drops of liquid from the cup slide down my throat. It’s almost becoming hard to swallow. Does this happen every night?

“I’m tired,” I manage.

“I know, Tess.” Graham reaches across the table and takes my hand in his. His hand is soft and warm. I’m lucky to have him. What would I do otherwise? I’d have to be in an institution. Thank God for Graham. Thank God. “Let’s get you to bed.”

I stare down at my water glass in front of me. I consumed nearly every drop of the water, but the glass isn’t quite empty. Instead, there’s a little white film in the bottom of the glass. Like a fine white powder.