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“You’re right, Clem,” interrupts Ed. “It is rude when people talk about you as if you’re not in the room.”

“Sorry,” I say.

Leif just laughs.

They start talking shop then. Discussing mutual tattooing acquaintances Leif saw during his time over in the Pacific Northwest. I slowly sip my whiskey and pat Gordy when he comes over to say hi before retiring once more to his doggy bed. Such a good dog.

Leif’s comment about Instagram has me thinking. If previous me had social media accounts, she must have deleted them after the breakup. I’ve done multiple searches and checked with Frances just to be sure. Time to fix that. It’d be nice to dip my toe into something. To have some sort of digital record of my life. Playing with my phone, I settle on Instagram. Of course, I’ll have no followers, but never mind. This would be for me, not other people. Putting a photo in a public place makes my existence more real than just carrying them around on my cell. And more permanent. Phones can be stolen. Memories can be lost. But once it’s out there and online, it’ll take more than just a random mugging to lose it all.

Sitting on the couch, with Ed and Leif’s banter in the background forming a comforting white noise, it takes me barely five minutes to set up the account. And just like that I have a digital footprint. It makes me strangely relaxed. Like I’ve just taken out insurance somehow.

Safety wise, my account is locked, but still probably best not to use my real name. So instead I go for @amnesia_chick. Might as well own it . . . in secret. I start with a picture of my Adidas Originals blue suede sneakers. I may or may not have bought them because they’re similar to the ones Ed wears, only his are green. But the shoes give a hint of my aesthetic or style or whatever the hell you want to call it while also suggesting that I’m perhaps going places. Not sure where yet, but never mind. It’s a nice message.

There. I have a social media presence now. Nothing can stop me.

Eventually, I guess the lull of conversation sends me to sleep. The soothing sound of Ed’s voice. I wake up the next morning alone in his bed. Oh, God, Ed carried me to bed. Iris would say this is an act of high romance and I’m not sure I disagree. If I wasn’t already lying down, I might even swoon. Though I doubt Ed would see it as any sort of romantic thing. Never mind. His sheets and pillows smell wonderful. And I try not to dwell overly long on the part where he must have slept next to me all night of his own free will or I’d never actually get up. Just lie there dreaming all day.

For the first time, I take a little longer getting ready, trying out some basics. A bit of concealer, mascara, and a tinted lip gloss. The shade is called Dolce Vida. No particular reason for the extra effort. It just seems like if previous me used to be immaculate in her morning routine, then it won’t hurt me to give it a try and see how I like it. After all, I don’t need to do the exact opposite of everything she did. I don’t need to strip myself back to the bare bones. That would just be silly. While I suspect she and I have some basic differences, we can have the occasional thing in common as well. Same name, vagina, attraction to Ed . . . it’s not a big deal. Despite not understanding why she made certain decisions, it’s not like I hate her or anything.

And the makeup looks good.





Chapter Eight


“You’re mooning again,” says Iris, handing me a cloth. “Dust while you dream.”

“I’m neither mooning nor dreaming.”

She snorts. “Oh, honey. If daydreams had frequent flier miles you’d be halfway around the world by now from all of your ruminating over a certain someone.”

“No idea what you’re talking about.” I get busy cleaning. “I’m focusing solely on my job.”

“Are you now?”

“Did you know there’s a coffee-table book dedicated solely to genital piercings here?”

“Of course I’m aware of it,” she says. “Don’t think I don’t know you’re trying to change the subject, either. But there’s nothing wrong with a Prince Albert proudly displayed. As long as it’s not in public, of course.”

“Huh.”

She smirks. “You’re very judgmental for one so young.”

“I’m not judgmental. Just a little surprised.”

“Why shouldn’t I stock books on sex and the human body? Both are beautiful natural things worth celebrating.”

Not knowing what to say, I dust my heart out.

“Good Lord, are you embarrassed by intimacy and the naked form?” She clucks her tongue. “Clementine, for shame.”

“What do you want from me?” Leif’s words the other night may have been said in jest, but the truth was a serious reality lay behind them. “Care of the assault, I may have well have regrown my hymen. I have nil practical experience and I’ve never even seen someone in the flesh totally naked apart from myself. It is on my to-do list, though.”

“You know, I never thought of it that way.”

“It’s the truth. While I know that I’ve definitely done it, I don’t actually remember doing it, so . . .”

“Maybe you should ask Ed to help you with that.” There’s an evil sparkle in her eye. “See, you’re frowning. I say his name and you frown, every time.”

“Pretty sure he’d be too busy schtupping the brunette from the restaurant to be worrying about my sexual needs regardless of where I’m sleeping.”