My boots are nice, though, she thought as she sat on the edge of the bed and pulled them to her knees. The dull ping of the doorbell sounded, and Carnac ran out, tail up straight. “Coming!” she shouted, looping her pendant pen around her neck before going into the living room. The blinds were closed at the patio door, and spotlights glowed on her shelf of talismans. None of them called to her. Even the picture of Allen and her standing before a sunrise over a beach last New Year’s didn’t reach her soul. It was depressing, but she couldn’t let go of the hope that someday one of them would do its job and help her remember.
On the tips of her toes, Peri looked through the peephole to see Allen fidgeting, his dress shoes scuffing the carpet. She always wondered how many of the scars he had were because of her, but he wouldn’t tell. Maybe I should have dressed up, she thought as she saw his black slacks and tie, but they were meeting at Overdraft. Why would she get dressed up to go to a bar at nine in the morning?
“Hi, Allen. You look sharp. Give me a sec and I’ll put on some slacks,” she said as she opened the door. His hair was tousled from the spring gusts, and the safety glasses reminded her of Clark Kent. She harbored a belief he wore them for the same reason: to hide his strength.
“Morning,” he said, moving adroitly despite his cast to give her a quick kiss. “Don’t change for me. I like the way you look in jeans. Ready?”
“Almost. I just need to feed Carnac.”
“Why do you even have that cat?” he said, his good mood souring as his eyes lingered on her pendant, and she tucked it behind her sweater. “Haven’t his owners called yet?”
Shrugging, she shut the door. “I like him. I hope they never do. He doesn’t hog the covers, and he doesn’t eat my ice cream.”
Allen shuffled to the breakfast bar, sighing as he levered his backside up onto a stool. Peri went to the kitchen, keenly feeling the distance between them. There was always space, and she didn’t know why. Was it his guilt that she’d lost so much to save his life, or had the loss of memory changed her and he didn’t love her anymore? She knew she and Allen had once had a good relationship by the heartache that flooded her when she thought about having lost it. She was trying. Allen was trying. But she still felt … broken.
“Peri, have you thought about moving back in with me?” he said, and she accidentally ripped the pouch all the way open, spilling it. “I wouldn’t even mind the cat box,” he said sourly.
“No,” she said, trying to get the spilled cat food in the bowl. “Allen, I’m sorry,” she said to ease the bite of her words. “I appreciate you not making a big deal about me moving out in the first place, and until I remember something more, it feels, I don’t know.” Allen made a face, and she gestured helplessly. “We need to do a few tasks together. That’s all.”
Gaze down, he picked at the edge of his cast. It had everyone’s name on it but hers. She didn’t know why she hadn’t signed it. She was with him all the time, it seemed. “Psych keeps telling me to be patient,” he said softly.
“Psych is right.” Leaning over the counter, she gave him a kiss. His knobby-knuckled hand rose to caress her jawline, and her fingers slipped from his smooth-shaven face. Her eye twitched and she pulled up and away. “Let me clean this up and we can go.”
“Sure.”
She could feel him watching her as she wiped the counter down and washed her hands. “How come you never knit anymore?” Allen asked, and she looked up, startled.
“Ah, because it’s spring?” she said, eyes going to her canvas bag tucked beside the couch. “It’s not as if I need it.” No, she didn’t need the soft red scarf anymore, but clearly it bothered her that it wasn’t finished yet, since it was still out.
“I like it when you knit,” he said, and she came around the counter, looking for her purse.
“I’ll finish it this weekend, then,” she said as she found it and went to the front closet for her coat. Good God, why did I buy a red coat? To match a scarf I haven’t finished? Her fingers on the smooth finish felt numb, and her focus blurred. The jacket smelled like real leather, but she didn’t remember buying it, and she had her doubts.
“Why does Bill want to meet at Overdraft, anyway?” she said as she came out from behind the closet door. “Sandy always fills the Juke’sBox playlist with suicide country crap.”
Allen laughed as he slid from the stool. “You’d rather go into Opti for a formal psych review? Give the guy a break. You’re his best drafter and he doesn’t want to push you.”
Peri forced her shoulders down, but the fear of drafting settled like ice in her middle, and she had to fight to keep her hand from her pendant. “I suppose,” she said dully. “Ready?”
“You want to drive?” he said, holding up his cast in explanation.
“Absolutely,” she said as she headed for the door, eager to feel the smooth power of her Mantis around her.