Good for You: A Novel (44)

“I did a little research after you told me what happened.”

He was hesitating; his shifting gaze told her so. “What is it? You don’t have to tiptoe around me.”

“You’re right—I’m sorry. It’s just that . . . I read that memory loss after an argument or a super stressful situation is usually a sign of post-traumatic stress disorder.”

“PTSD?” she said, incredulous. “That’s ridiculous. I haven’t been through a war or something.”

“No?” he said gently. “Luke said you guys had a really rough childhood.”

“Millions of people have rough childhoods. And you didn’t see Luke suddenly forgetting every stressful situation,” said Aly, recalling the stories he’d told her about unreasonably demanding bosses and the toxic work culture he’d had to operate in.

“You’re not Luke, Aly.”

He could say that again. Luke never would’ve lost his temper in the first place.

“Different people respond differently to trauma,” Wyatt continued. “And you just went through another trauma on top of that.”

“I did,” she conceded, “but I still don’t get it. If that’s the case, why aren’t I forgetting everything right now?”

“I don’t know, but I’m guessing some things are more stressful than others.”

“Sure—but that doesn’t explain what’s wrong with my brain.”

“From what I read, PTSD can shrink your hippocampus. That’s where memories are stored.”

“Great. So I’m going to get early-onset dementia,” she said flatly.

“I didn’t read anything like that. It sounds like it’s more of a defense mechanism that kicks in when your brain really thinks you need to be protected. Aly . . .” His smile, which was disarmingly kind, almost made her forget how upsetting this was. Except she was only warming to Wyatt because they’d spent so much time together. Forget PTSD—she had textbook Stockholm syndrome. “You’ve been through a ton lately,” he said. “Doesn’t it make you feel better to at least know why you might have forgotten the incident?”

Well, yes . . . but also no. Because erasing anything unpalatable from her memory was not how she wanted to operate.

Then again, it was a shame she hadn’t forgotten that Meagan now had her dream job.

“Listen, I’m no expert,” said Wyatt. “I’m just telling you what I found on some university health websites. The point is you shouldn’t feel bad. There’s nothing wrong with you.”

“Tell that to my shrunken hippocampus,” she muttered.

“There are ways to treat it if you think it’s more than a one-off. Neurofeedback, stress reduction, that kind of stuff. It’s probably worth talking to someone.”

A deep dive into her miserable past? She’d take memory loss over that. “Maybe later,” she said.

“Okay,” he said evenly. He glanced at the microwave. “Uh-oh—gotta go. I have an appointment.”

This was more information about his whereabouts than he’d ever willingly volunteered. And yet it wasn’t remotely satisfactory.

He slid off the counter, then glanced at her before grabbing his backpack from the hook beside the door. “I’ll be back tonight. Call me if you need anything, okay?”

Oh, she needed something, alright. But what she needed most was to rid herself of the urge to ask this grumpy, too-tall, entirely unsuitable roommate to fill that need.





TWENTY-TWO


Mari Perez was a hugger. And not just any kind of hugger; she pulled you in and held you tight, only to release you seconds before you started to wonder if she’d stolen her moves from a python.

“I’m so glad you called me!” she said to Aly. They stood outside of the small coffee shop in downtown Douglas where they’d agreed to meet. “I wasn’t sure if you would.”

Aly hadn’t been sure, either, but now that she knew she’d be in town the rest of the month, she needed to find someone other than Wyatt to talk to. “I just thought since I was here, we should try to catch up,” she said, holding open the door to the coffee shop.

“Well, I like that thought! Now, tell me everything,” said Mari.

“I will—but first, coffee’s on me,” said Aly.

“Only if you let me get the next one.”

“Deal,” she said with a smile. It felt a little odd to speak so casually with someone who she’d once addressed as Ms. Perez. Then again, Mari had the same sort of effortless grace that Luke had and had always acted as though she was simply an older, wiser friend to her students. After they’d retrieved their coffees from the bar and had begun walking toward the water, Aly said, “Well, a lot’s already changed since I saw you last week.”

“Really? How so?” Mari was an ambler, but for once, Aly didn’t mind slowing down. Douglas was every bit as charming as Saugatuck, but smaller and rarely as crowded. Aly could feel the knot between her shoulders beginning to loosen as they walked along, pausing to admire the sidewalk displays outside of art studios and shops.

“To start, I’m not the editor in chief of All Good anymore,” said Aly.

“Oof,” said Mari, putting her hand on Aly’s arm. “You okay?”