Forgotten First Kiss

Chapter 4

The date of my original appointment with Dr. Chen approached. I called to see whether I was still on the schedule. They confirmed, and I went in for my CT scan. My results wouldn’t be in for a while, but I kept my appointment.

“Are you feeling any better?” he asked, still doodling on that legal pad. “Any recollections for the episode between?”

“Is that what we’re calling it now?” I’d been calling it The Black Hole. But Episode Between worked.

“It’s a nice turn of phrase, right?” He beamed, looking proud of himself. “So? Have you come to terms with it?”

“Terms? No.” The unsettling feeling that I’d lived a foreign life only surged harder, every passing day. Seeing the flowers on the countertop in my kitchen didn’t help matters. Luckily, as Tennille’s husband Liam would say, they’d die soon, and there was that. “As long as I’m missing those months, I’m going to feel off-balance. Like a stranger took over. Honestly, Dr. Chen, in my real state of mind, I never would have given Jeremy Hotston the time of day, let alone overextended the rental on a golf cart with him.” Et cetera, et cetera.

“From what I hear, Jeremy Hotston is extremely well respected in medical practice brokerage circles. My second cousin is a wildly successful businesswoman who lives in Reedsville, and she’s looking to buy a medical practice to diversify. She’s been waiting weeks for Jeremy to resurface in the real estate business so she can work with him. You might want to give him another chance.”

“If you knew how many chances I’d given him in the past, you’d never tell me that, Dr. Chen.” I brushed dust particles off my lap. Enough was enough of this conversation. “Can you just call me when the CT scan results come in?”

That was it. I had a brain tumor! That was the explanation.

“Sure.” He stood with me and walked me to the door of his office. “And Danica? If you really do want some of those memories back, I suggest you try reenacting some of the activities you know you participated in—with the people who were there—while you experienced the Between Episode.”

There was that term again, but reversed. “Thank you, doctor, but I’m not getting together with Jeremy Hotston for anything.”

I left.

On the ride home with Mom chattering all the way, I conceded mentally that Dr. Chen had a fair point. “Hey, Mom, what did you end up doing with all those groceries you bought?”

“Most of them are still in the garage. A few of the fresh items are in my refrigerator. Are you hungry? Are you … low on funds? You haven’t worked in months, and I’m sure there are medical bills piling up.”

Oh, dear. Were there? I’d barely thought of getting the mail. Owning a gymnastics business didn’t do much for health insurance benefits. I had some simple coverage, but … man. This could get serious fast.

“Can I have some of the groceries? I think I will actually try again to cook. I found some pictures of recipes I want to try to make.”

“Oh, honey. Are you sure?” Mom looked both hopeful and scared as she changed routes toward her house instead of mine.

I was sure. We collected the items—a really good variety representing the four food groups—and headed to my house. There were a lot. Mom helped me take them inside, and we put them in the pantry and fridge.

Then, I pulled open the freezer and showed her the cake. “Once I’ve figured out a couple of meals, I’m going to try to make this again.”

“You made that?”

Probably. I thought so. “Do you want a slice?” I got out a plate for her and gave her a piece. “It’s been in the freezer, but—”

“But nothing!” Mom said through her chewing. “It’s incredible. Use all those groceries. Make more of this ice cream cake, though, and bring some to me, okay?”

Instead, I sent the remainder of the cake home with her. She and Dad could finish it faster than I could on my own. Besides, I had loads of food now—which was the same as loads of hope. Hope for a better world with good cooking in it.

Or not.

Six hours later, mashed potato clumps decorated my ceiling, a whole three-pound bag of carrots had gone from caramelized to carbonized, and my smoke alarm had gone off five times.

But I pressed on. Luckily, there were YouTube channels for this type of thing, and I paused, rewound, and rewatched segments until I got something right.

The flowers from the vase kind of smiled at me from the dining room. Not sure if it was a mocking or approving smile.

Or if I was going crazy to think that bouquets of flowers could smile.

Yes. To all of that.

Finally, I had a plateful of delicious-looking food. I set the table with a cloth napkin, a goblet of ice water, and lit a candle on the table. Candles made everything more special. Where did that phrase come from? It felt hauntingly familiar, and not like something I’d say myself.