The Stranger in the Mirror(25)
Blythe’s body grew rigid. “And you told Addison too?”
“Not yet, but I’m sure Gabriel has.”
When Blythe remained silent, Hailey continued. “Why should they wait, Mom? Just think. You and Dad could have a grandchild by next year.” She winked.
How was she going to get out of this one? Blythe wondered. She desperately needed that detective to come up with something, anything, to reassure her or give her ammunition. And she hoped it would be soon.
??20??
Addison
“I need your advice,” I tell Gigi. We’re sitting together on her porch, a pitcher of iced tea on the table between us.
It’s been a week since Gabriel and I got back from Florida, and I can’t count the number of times I’ve looked at that damn card. I know the man’s phone number and email address by heart, and his name, Frank Margolis, tumbles around in my head day and night. Every time I pick up the phone to call him, I lose my nerve and hang up, telling myself he must be wrong, that he’s mistaken me for someone else. But I know I’m kidding myself. Could he really have known me from a Fort Lauderdale bar or strip club? It just doesn’t feel possible. First of all, I’ve learned I’m a terrible dancer—stiff and a little awkward on the dance floor—which Gabriel loves to kid me about. And I hate being the center of attention. I can’t imagine dancing on a stage with a bunch of strangers staring at me.
But I’ve done some research on whether I could have been such a different person before amnesia, and the answer is not reassuring. The fact is, it’s highly possible that amnesia affects a person’s propensities and natural tendencies. There’s every reason to believe I might not be at all like the old Addison. Or whatever my name was.
I haven’t told Gabriel about it. I can’t yet. I wasn’t going to tell anyone, but the encounter with that horrible man is all I can think about. If I don’t talk about it to someone, I’ll go crazy.
“Now,” Gigi says, “what is it you want to talk about? You’ve seemed a little off since your trip. Did you two have a fight?”
Her question takes me by surprise. Gabriel and I have never had a fight. “No, not at all. It’s something else.” And I tell her, in halting sentences, about the man in the restaurant. “Do you think it’s possible that I might have been a dancer in some sleazy bar in my past life?”
“Just because some old geezer tells you that, it doesn’t mean it’s true. Did you recognize him? Did he look familiar to you?”
“No, but that doesn’t mean anything. I have no memories at all, remember?” I don’t mean to sound sarcastic, but that’s how it comes out.
Gigi gets that don’t-get-smart-with-me look on her face and wags her finger. “You can’t take some idiot’s comments as truth. I’m not saying he’s lying, but you can’t construct a past life for yourself based on what he said.”
“What do you suggest I do?”
Gigi sits back in her chair, looking out at her garden. The September weather is warm, but the steaming heat of August is past, and the colorful blooms in her flower beds look happy and rejuvenated. “Have you looked him up online?”
“I have. He’s a sales rep for a brewery, according to LinkedIn. And single, it seems from Facebook, so I guess it’s a point in his favor that he’s not ignoring his wife to leer at dancers.”
She nods and picks at the cuticle on her index finger like she always does when she’s thinking. We hear the front screen door slam. Gigi looks at me. “That’s Ed. Can we tell him?”
I nod. Embarrassed as I am, Ed has always been a source of support.
Ed comes sauntering outside. “What’s up, ladies?” he says, smoothing his mustache with his hand. “Mind if I join you?”
“Sit down, honey,” Gigi says, lifting her face up to him for a kiss.
He takes a chair and folds his tall body into it. “You ladies look mighty serious. Something wrong?”
Gigi refills her glass and hands it to him. “Addy has a little story to tell you.”
I repeat to Ed what I told Gigi, and he never takes his eyes from mine. “Hmm. That guy sounds like a real asshole.”
“Yeah, he is. But that’s not the point. What if I am the girl he was talking about?”
“Only one way to find out,” Ed says. “Someone’s got to go talk to him.”
“I can’t do that,” I tell him, already feeling my stomach twisting in knots.
“Of course you can’t,” Ed says. “I mean me. I’ll go.”
I agree to the plan, but now that there’s a chance I might find out the truth, I feel even worse. I don’t really want to know that I was an exotic dancer before my memory was wiped out. And what if Ed does find out that it’s true? Will he and Gigi kick me out? What will Gabriel say? And even if he doesn’t care, what if his family discovers the truth?
??21??
Addison
We’ve just left the Pennsylvania Academy of Fine Arts and Gabriel and I are walking along a crowded street. I contort my body to avoid being jostled by passersby, who all seem to be in a hurry, feeling as though the throngs are closing in on me. We have only a few more blocks before we reach the restaurant where we’re meeting Ted, Blythe, and Hailey for dinner. It’s Hailey’s birthday, and she wanted to spend it together. She has so many friends who would love to celebrate with her, so I was more than touched when she said she wanted to be with us instead.