My office looked exactly as I’d left it. It was a relief to know where everything was, how to log in to the computer system, that it was easy to recall the client and project names I’d been working on before my accident. A giant balloon bouquet floated in one corner of my office, nearly identical to the one from my hospital room. Except these balloons said Congratulations rather than Get Well Soon. I wasn’t sure what I was being congratulated on exactly, but it was likely hard to find the right sentiment for someone returning to work with a brain full of false memories.
Mary Steener, one of Jameson Porter’s shared personal assistants who also handled reception duties for the communications team, was the first person I saw. “Lucy!” she exclaimed, holding a large flower arrangement of yellow, pink and orange tulips. She had to crane her neck severely to the right to see around it and into my office. “You look fantastic, sweetheart. Fantastic.”
Mary was in her late fifties, a single mother who was never late for work and had been with Jameson Porter for nearly fifteen years. She was always dressed meticulously, nary a hair out of place or painted fingernail chipped, and she was also a well-known office gossip who often said the wrong thing for the situation. But she was bighearted and meticulous and hardworking, and so her wagging tongue and occasional lack of tact was overlooked.
She set the flowers down on my desk, the wide rainbow of tulips completely obscuring my view, and I shifted my chair over so I could see past them. “These beauties are for you. From upstairs.” I knew that meant the flowers were from the consultants and strategy group (Matt’s team), who occupied the floor directly above ours. “So how are you doing, honey? We’re so glad to have you back.”
“Thanks, Mary, it’s nice to be back. And I’m doing well.”
“You sure look it. Especially for someone who can’t remember anything.” She laughed. “I’m kidding, hon. Honestly, how could you forget us?” I smiled as hard as I could.
My second in command, Brooke Ingram, came up behind Mary and caught my eye. Brooke is two years older than me, and I was hired after her. I’d heard she was none too pleased when I was brought on—she had wanted the director job, but the partners felt she wasn’t quite the right fit—but if that had been true, she got over it fast. She was great at what she did and I trusted her implicitly.
“Hey, Brooke,” I said, and Mary turned to look behind her.
“Oh, hey there, sweetie,” Mary said to Brooke. “I didn’t see you there.” Then Mary strode over to my desk and pulled me out of my chair for a hug, which lasted about five seconds too long. I finally disentangled myself, Mary’s perfume lingering between us like a scented cloud, and straightened my suit jacket. Brooke tapped on her watch a couple of times and I nodded. “Thanks for bringing the flowers, Mary. But I need to go into a meeting with Brooke, so I’ll talk to you later?”
“You bet. Have a great day, you two,” Mary said, smiling as she exited my office. Then she leaned her head back in and lowered her voice. “I’ll try to hold back your calls.”
“Oh, that’s okay. I’d like to take my calls.” I smiled and Mary winked before turning to leave. I would probably have to go out later and explicitly tell her not to hold my calls. Mary was the type who believed she knew what people needed better than they did. She blamed it on having too much “mother energy.”
“I should have had four kids,” she would say. “But because I didn’t, you’ll all benefit!”
“Thanks for the rescue,” I said to Brooke, who had taken a seat in one of the chairs in my office. I pushed the vase of tulips to the very far side of my desk. “I’d forgotten about Mary and her overabundance of helpfulness.” I laughed but then stopped when I saw Brooke’s face.
“Seriously?” Concern was etched on her brow.
“I’m joking!” I said. “But I probably shouldn’t do that, right?”
“Probably not.” Brooke laughed.
“So, what have people been saying? About me.” I cringed, waited for her answer.
She shrugged but looked uneasy. “That your memory isn’t what it used to be.” She paused. “Is that true?”
I sighed. “It’s true.” I had decided there was no point in trying to fake anything or hide the issue. It would only fuel the rumors and I didn’t need to be putting out those sorts of fires along with everything else. “For some stuff. But my work memory seems okay. So far I remember everything about this place.” Brooke smiled, looking reassured.
“Or almost everything,” I added. “I don’t remember Matt. At least not my boyfriend Matt.”
Now her eyes widened, but I could tell she already knew. “You can drop the act. I know you know. Everyone knows by now, I’m sure.”
“Yeah, there has been some chatter,” she said. “But it will all die down, now that you’re back. Don’t worry. There’s plenty of gossip fodder around here. You’ll be old news soon.”
“Hope so,” I said, a frown settling on my face.
“I, for one, couldn’t care less about your relationship status. I’m just happy to have you back.”
“Thanks.” I smiled at her. “Especially for keeping things running smoothly while I was gone,” I said, and Brooke seemed pleased. I glanced at my computer screen. “And judging by my nearly empty inbox, plus all the calls you handled the past couple of months, I owe you a lot more than a thank-you.”
“You would have done the same for me,” she said with a shrug. “But there’s a Kate Spade bag I’ve been eyeing.” We laughed, and then she gave me a serious look. “But don’t do anything like that again, okay? We need you here. I need you here.”
“Don’t worry, I will always choose practicality over fashion from this point forward.” I stuck one of my legs out from behind my desk. “See? Flats.”
“Whoa. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in anything less than three inches,” she said, then narrowed her eyes comically. “Are you really Lucy Sparks?” She laughed but then slapped a hand to her mouth. “Oh, not cool. I’m sorry. God, I’m as bad as Mary.”
“Stop,” I said. “You are far worse than Mary.” Then I winked at her and she laughed, hard.
“Brooke, I’m used to it. I promise you. This is one of those situations where it’s hard to know what to say, so don’t stress.” I raised an eyebrow and glanced at the balloons, and we both laughed at the message.
“There was a flurry of emails about those balloons,” she said, still chuckling. “It was a tough race between Congratulations and Yay!”
“Well, Welcome Back would also have worked.” I gave her a wry smile.
“Damn it, you’re right,” she said. “See? That’s why you can’t go anywhere. We’re useless without you.”
I avoided running into Matt for almost two days and then I had to go to a client intake meeting on his floor, which meant passing right by his cubicle. I considered skipping the meeting (Brooke would be there regardless), but that wouldn’t be good for the rumor mill. I needed people to believe I was up to the task, which I was, for the most part. Sure, my emotional state was a land mine and my personal life a mess, but my coworkers didn’t need to know that.
Jameson Porter knew about Matt and me. Dating a coworker wasn’t against company policy, but you were required to disclose a personal relationship with another employee to human resources—which we had apparently done, according to Matt. So everyone at work knew Matt was my boyfriend, which was a strange thing because I still didn’t remember our relationship, aside from the memory of the rose petal bath from our first date. However, I doubted Matt had said anything about our current status, which could be best described as “it’s complicated.” We weren’t exactly broken up, more on a pause, but all of this meant I was dreading seeing him at work. It would be hard to pretend things were fine between us, and I was paranoid people would see right through the act.
But it was a Wednesday and so there was a decent chance Matt would be at the client’s today rather than in the office. He had stopped traveling after my accident and was assigned to a project with one of the downtown Toronto banks. I’d felt bad about this, knowing how hard it would be for him to pass the client he’d been working with for close to a year to another consultant, but he acted like it was no big deal. Said he had almost wrapped up the project, anyway, and was looking forward to sleeping in his own bed rather than hotels.
Having convinced myself Matt would surely be at the bank today, I walked by his cubicle with barely a glance as Brooke and I chatted about the client...and then ran directly into him as we rounded the corner near the meeting room. He had a full coffee in hand and it splashed onto the floor between us.
“Oh!” I said, taking a step back to try to right myself. Brooke, beside me, somehow managed to escape the coffee splash.
We all stood there for a moment, everyone a little stunned, and finally Brooke broke the spell. “I’ll grab some napkins,” she said, ducking into the nearby meeting room.
“Did any get on you?” Matt asked. Aside from a small splash on my shoes, most of the spilled coffee had ended up on the ground and already disappeared into the dark gray patterned carpet.
“I don’t think so.” I shifted my folder to the other arm, wiped a few drops of the coffee from my shoes thanks to the napkin Brooke handed me when she returned.
“Do you need one?” Brooke asked Matt, extending a couple of napkins his way.
“Thanks,” he said, taking them and first wiping his hands, then a splotch of coffee from his tie. It was then I realized it was the anniversary tie, the one I’d given him before everything went off the rails between us. My chest hurt to look at it, and the moment of uncomfortable silence stretched before Matt dropped his gaze. I also noticed he looked thinner—too thin—and thought back to my conversation with Alex, about what a “mess” Matt was thanks to my accident, my memory.
Brooke looked between us, then said to me, “Okay, well, I’ll see you in there?” I nodded and she walked into the meeting room, leaving Matt and me alone.
“Why aren’t you at the bank?” It came out somewhat accusatory, but he didn’t seem to notice.
“Oh, I was. But I have a meeting with Peter. I’m going back after.” Matt scowled briefly, though he quickly corrected his expression into one more neutral, and I wondered what was going on. Peter Cerelli, one of the senior partners, was well-known for working his associates harder than any other partner. Again, I thought back to what Alex had said, about Matt being pushed off the accelerated partner track because of me. For a moment I felt defensive—I never asked him to hand off his latest (and most challenging, he’d mentioned) oil and gas client—but then just as quickly I went from defensive to contrite. Consultants with oil and gas clients traveled nonstop—and like everyone had been reminding me, Matt was one of the “good” ones. He would never have spent so much time away while I was in such a fragile state and recuperating.
I wanted to thank him for giving this up for me, articulate how sorry I was to have screwed up his career (his life), too, but all I said was “Is everything okay?”
“Yeah, sure.” But he seemed distracted, and I knew there was plenty he wasn’t saying. “How are you? I mean, how are things being back at work?”
“Things are good,” I said, shifting the folder again more for something to do with my restless hands. I smiled. “Like riding a bike, right?”
Matt nodded, but he didn’t smile. “How about with your...you know, with everything?”
“With my memory?” I asked. “Quite nearly perfect. I haven’t forgotten a name or face or password yet.” I smiled again. And again, he didn’t return it. How cruel it was I remembered the less important things like my log-in password and that Mary was a gossip who drank peppermint tea with milk, but didn’t remember I had loved Matt. My smile dropped.
“I’m glad to hear it. I’ve been worried.” He cleared his throat, looked down at his mug, which was now wrapped in coffee-stained napkins. “I wasn’t sure if being back would make things worse.” I knew he wasn’t only referencing the work. He also meant the stress of what was going on between us. Shame coursed through me as I thought about that night, about kissing Daniel.
“So far, so good,” I said, looking for an exit because the guilt was making it hard for me to concentrate on anything else. “I guess I should probably get in there.” I gestured to the meeting room, and Matt nodded.
“Sure thing. Okay, well, talk to you later.” I said goodbye, and then he stepped around me right as I tried to step around him, and with both of us moving in the same direction we bumped into one another again.
“Sorry. Again,” he said. “At least no coffee spill this time.” He smiled, but I could tell how hard it was for him to do it. Fix this, I thought. Fix it, Lucy.
“Listen, Matt,” I began, not entirely sure what I was about to say was a great idea. “Do you want to get a drink later? Like, after work?”
He stared at me, hope brightening his face temporarily. But then it was gone as quickly as it came. “Lucy, I would love to. But I can’t.”
“Oh. Okay.” I blushed, feeling foolish for even suggesting it. “I shouldn’t even have... No problem. Maybe another time.” I waved my hand in between us as if to erase the suggestion. What right did I have to ask so much of him? I would have turned me down, too, after everything.
He reached out to touch my arm. “No, I want to,” he said. “But I have to put in a long night at the bank. Rain check?”
“Of course,” I said. “Rain check.”
“Hope you have a good day,” he said, watching me as I walked backward a few steps, avoiding bumping into him for a third time.
“You, too.” I waved and ducked into the meeting room, just as Brooke finished setting up the room.
“I’d say that went perfectly fine,” she said, noting my pained expression.
I sat at the table and, with a groan, laid my head in my arms.