by Ann Fox and Sarah Stella
1998
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Part Two
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Caroline toggled the latch and opened the door, greeting Richard with a sheepish smile that froze awkwardly on her lips when she met his eyes.
"What are you doing, Caroline?" he asked, his eyebrows raised in confusion. Caroline began to reply, but found that she was unable to speak. Here, before her was Richard, the very same man with whom she'd worked every day for nearly four years, yet something about him was inexplicably different. His physical appearance was unaltered, yet something about the way he presented himself was definitely changed. Caroline stared deeply into his eyes, trying to decide what exactly it was.
When she didn't move or avert her gaze for several seconds, a look of concern crept into Richard's features. "Is something wrong?" he asked.
Caroline stepped out from the closet and stood up, gently rubbing the growing welt on her scalp. "Um, I, uh, I'm not sure," she stammered, puzzling over the slightly coarse edge that Richard's voice seemed to project. It was almost as if he was just getting over a cold or a sore throat or something of that nature, but strangely, he hadn't shown any sign of illness a few minutes ago.
What is going on? she thought.
Richard's concerned gaze deepened. As he grew increasingly more worried by the second, her confusion only heightened. She blinked her eyes a few times, but became frustrated when it did nothing to clear her mind. She looked up at Richard in desperation and he silently slid his arm around her shoulder and led her to the couch. As she sat down, she noticed that the couch cushions seemed much lumpier than she remembered them being. The air in the apartment felt slightly cooler than it had just minutes earlier.
Hitting my head must have screwed up my senses somehow, she thought to herself.
"What happened in there?" He reached up and placed his palm on her forehead. "Oh, Caroline, 'Ma Cherie', you're burning up! Did you hit your head?"
What?! Alarm bells began to sound in Caroline's mind. Did he just call me "Ma Cherie"?! Memories of everything she and Richard had ever said to each other echoed through the foggy landscape of her anxious mind. Never in the three years she had known him had Richard ever addressed her in that way. And not in French, of all things! He hated French people! She shook her head violently, as if hoping to ward off these alien thoughts and feelings and return back to her "normal self". For that moment, she willed her mind to stop racing and looked up at Richard, who, despite his unusual behavior, seemed to be excessively concerned about her well-being. She decided she had better answer him before he asked again, and somehow she knew he would.
"Uh, yeah, I think I whacked it on the door when I fell down." She squinted, as if trying to concentrate on a sound or smell just out of the range of her senses. "Do you smell mint, Richard?"
"Mint?" he repeated incredulously as Caroline reached up and rubbed the painful, growing bump through her short red tresses. Wasting no time, he leaned over and began to examine her head. "Caroline, honey, how could you possibly have fallen down in there? That ceiling isn't even high enough for someone to stand up. I hope you're not starting to get clumsy in your old age."
Caroline lifted her arms and pulled Richard's hands from her scalp. "Richard, what on earth are you talking about?"
A look regret immediately washed over his features. "Oh, Caroline, I'm sorry. I know it's not something I should joke about, especially not now. But what in the world were you doing in there?"
"I was getting the phone book for...," she trailed off, suddenly aware of what he'd just said to her. "What do you mean you shouldn't joke? And what is this about old age?" Her voice carried a tinge of anger in it that she hadn't quite intended.
The left corner of Richard's mouth curved upwards nervously. "I know forty-two isn't technically that old, but--"
"Forty-two!" interjected Caroline, shooting from her seat like a bullet from a gun. Her eyes bulged out of their sockets, making her look amazingly like Marty Feldman as "Igor" in "Young Frankestein". "What do you mean, forty-two?! I'm only thirty-three! Is this some kind of joke or something? Because I have to say I am not finding this very funny!"
Richard stood up, his brow furled with anxiety and worry. He gathered Caroline into his arms protectively. "Oh, 'Mon Petit Chou'," he sighed, "you must have hit your head harder than you thought."
Caroline was startled at his uncharacteristic display of affection, and gently pushed him away. "Petty shoe?" she said, looking at him confusedly. "What is that?"
Richard appeared to be just as confused with her behavior as she was with his, though he appeared slightly hurt. This confused her even more. "No, not 'Petty Shoe', Caroline," he corrected her. "It's 'Mon Petit Chou'. It's French for 'My Little Cabbage'...." When he saw no hint of recognition in her eyes, he slowly trailed off. "Oh come on, Caroline. Don't tell me you can't remember Paris? The spring of 2002? Our honeymoon?"
His final two words sent a wave of shock through Caroline's body that caused her knees to buckle. Richard saw this immediately and ran over to catch her before she had a chance to hit the floor. Wearily, she looked into his eyes. "We're married?" she squeaked softly.
Richard's jaw dropped in amazement as all the color drained from his face. His body temperature seemed to drop at least forty degrees and he began to shake. "You mean you....you really....don't remember?"
Frowning slightly as she saw how much distress her "misplaced memory" was causing Richard, she did the only thing she could think of--she apologized. "Richard, I'm really sorry. I don't remember. I don't know what's going on. I'm confused."
Never had words had such a profound affect on him as they did with Caroline's admission that she could not remember being married to him. The wave of nausea continued to flood over his body until he felt completely numb.
"Richard?" Caroline inquired anxiously. She brushed her fingers over his face as if trying to memorize it by touch. Caroline looked into his anxious eyes, noted the strain around his mouth and decided to humor him. After all, she'd dealt pretty well with that situation where she'd been trapped inside Julia's body, but this was so much better because she was herself.
Still, pretending to be his wife...again...is wrong, her conscience nagged her.
She looked at him once more, scrutinizing his face. He was essentially the same old Richard. The one with the quirky handsomeness she'd loved so easily...and so painfully. Only for his sake, she told herself. Richard noted the familiar softness in her face as she looked at him. The edges of his mouth curled up.
"Richard, honey," she tried the endearment on for size, rolling it around to get the taste of it, "I...I don't know what's wrong with me. But I think maybe I should call my doctor."
Richard nodded grimly, capturing her roving hand with his own. He kissed her softly on the web of skin between her index finger and thumb. "I think that's an excellent idea but I'll call."
Caroline looked at him in alarm. "Richard, you don't..."
Richard raised his eyebrows at her. "Don't what?"
"Never mind," Caroline assured him, realizing that in this...alternate universe? possible future? (she hoped ardently for the latter)...he probably did know her doctor's number and she just didn't realize it. She touched her head gingerly. Richard put an arm, steady and warm, around Caroline's waist. The pain from her lump was beginning to subside, only to be replaced by whirling thoughts as Caroline struggled to process all that had happened.
Richard looked at Caroline, his eyes filled with concern and just a little pity. Could I be going crazy? she asked herself over and over. Maybe I just hit my head too hard. This could be real, she realized with a thrill of pleasure.
Nothing made sense: she and Richard married? Well, that part at least she liked. Impulsively she kissed him under the edge of his jaw and was rewarded with a brilliant smile. Have to do that more often, she noted silently. Everything else was screwy. Insanity very nearly explained it. The difference in her apartment and in Richard; her age. Still, there was an insistent niggle at the back of her mind. A sixth sense she didn't know she possessed. Something was wrong about this; it wasn't just her imagination. It was the way her body fit together, the way his body fit together. The way the air felt on her face; the smells. Everything was a little off somehow, like a Xerox copy; almost the same but blurred a little around the edges.
"Do you need anything while I'm up? A cup of tea? Green, loose, not bagged." He grinned at her and squeezed her shoulders. She reveled in the caring, loving way he touched her.
"It's so peaceful," she murmured, turning her gaze from him to the falling...snow? Caroline squinted at the fat flakes lazing past her window and shook her head. It was raining before. I know it was raining before. The motion made her woozy and she slid into a slight daze. Richard stood up and grabbed the phone.
Caroline felt cooler out of the circle of his arms and the chill revived her a little. Once again she focused on the task at hand--understanding her situation. She tiptoed away from the couch and peered into her hallway mirror as if she could divine the future by staring into its depths. She wasn't older; her familiar features were almost wrinkle-free and her skin was still smooth. Shivering internally, Caroline retreated to the couch. She turned her discerning eye on Richard as he murmured quietly into the phone. He looked largely unchanged as she'd noted before. The lines of care around his mouth were deeper and she noted a fan of pure silver at his temples that hadn't been there that morning.
"Can I ask you a silly question?" Caroline said after he'd hung up, her voice low and uncertain.
"Shoot," Richard said agreeably, disappearing around the corner and returning with a blue and green plaid blanket. He seated himself beside her once more and wrapped the afghan around both of them.
Before she began, Caroline admired the way the pure, clean sunlight fell on his face. She opened her mouth to ask him what month it was, what time it was, what year it was, knowing full well that any of these questions would cause him further distress. But she had to know. The words crowded up in her mouth, pushing and shoving until a single idea broke free. "How did we finally get together?"
That hadn't come out right at all. It wasn't what she needed to know. Caroline sighed. Practicality aside, she did need to know. What's more, she wanted to know. Richard's lips parted in sadness and his voice was heavy when he answered her.
"I thought at least you'd remember that." His tone was mildly chiding. "You told me it was the happiest day of your life. Even over our wedding day, Caroline." His voice was harsher now. Caroline blinked back the moisture that stung at her eyes.
"I'm so, so sorry. I can't remember much of anything."
Richard sighed. "It's okay, I shouldn't have brought it up. It's just...." Just as it seemed like he was about to reveal something, he changed his mind. "Well, don't you want to hear what the doctor said?"
"What?"
"He said it was probably nothing, but if you're still feeling bad in an hour or so I should take you to the hospital." Richard looked at her somberly. His expression brought a bittersweet pang of homesickness to her--it was so like her Richard's. "Are you sure you don't remember anything?"
"Some things," Caroline said cautiously. Wherever she was now, she couldn't be a hundred percent certain that his history was hers too.
"Tell me the last thing you remember."
"Well, it was your ten-month anniversary with Julia. I remember you hadn't gotten her a gift. You've probably forgotten," Caroline hastened to add.
Richard looked at her strangely. She nervously tucked her feet up underneath her body. "Of course I remember. We were working on a batch of insanely early Christmas cards." Caroline nodded encouragingly. "We ordered the flowers, you even paid extra to have them delivered. A dozen maroon and cream roses." Richard's face was dreamy. "They were beautiful," he half-whispered reverently, more in appreciation of the beauty than the gesture. "Too bad they were wasted," his voice was suddenly hard and bitter. "It was getting late and we'd been working almost the whole day without a break. We were both exhausted and then you handed me a panel to color and..."
"And?" Caroline demanded eagerly, lacing her fingers through his.
"And it was late and you were tired and the panel was a drawing of you and me and you had filled in the word bubble wrong and it said, 'I still love you. I don't know if I'll ever get over it.'"
Caroline's eyes widened. "And?"
"And I sat there for a while, gasping like a landed fish but then I said..."
A horrific crash came from underneath the staircase. It was followed by the sounds of someone or something stumbling around in the darkness there. Caroline sprang to her feet.
"You got other people stashed under there?" Richard inquired, raising an eyebrow.
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Continued in Part Three
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Please visit my Caroline in the City webpage: Sincere Amore