Demanding Ransom

Chapter TWENTY-FIVE

Two months later.





“I think you should consider it. Don’t analyze, just come. I promise it will be fun. I’ll be there, so obviously.”

I twirl the rubber tip of my pencil through my hair and it tangles in a knot. I try to yank it out, but it just pulls the twisted hair tighter. “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“I think you should stop thinking and just do it. I’m coming to pick you up at eight. You better be ready.”

“We’ll see.” I hang up before he has another opportunity to convince and manipulate me any further. I’m really not interested in putting up a fight. I don’t have the strength for it.

Cora peers over the top edge of some gossip magazine. Her pink gum snaps loudly in her mouth and the pages rustle as she flicks them down to make eye contact with me. “Was that Trav again?”

“Yeah,” I answer, annoyed at both of them right now. Annoyed at everyone, actually. I’m getting tired of people telling me what I should do, where I should go, and how I should live my life. I’ve been fine on my own for the past two months. I really don’t need their unsolicited guidance.

“You’ve made it clear that you’re going to do what you want either way, but I really think you should go.” She ducks her head back behind the magazine and slides further down onto her bed, crossing her ankles. “It’s time you saw him, Maggie.”

“I don’t want to.” The blank computer screen glowers at me. “I have to finish this sociology paper by Monday, and so far all I have to turn in is one blank, eight and a half by eleven sheet of parchment. Somehow I don’t think that’s going to go over well with Professor Dexton.”

“Screw Dexton.” Cora chucks her magazine at me and it lands just under my feet. The pages flutter like a fan. “And screw sociology.” She swings her legs over the edge of the bed. “You need to go tonight. Who knows, maybe you could turn it into some social experiment and twist it into a thesis for your paper. You know, like you could wear that perfume you used to practically bathe in and see if it triggers his memory. I think I remember hearing somewhere that your nose has something to do with the hippopotamus or something in your brain.”

“Hippocampus,” I correct, shoving her magazine under my desk with my toe. “And seriously? They actually let you go to school here?” I wall her off with my shoulder and hunker down into my desk.

“Whatever.” Cora pulls out her phone and begins punching across the screen. “Just because you’re suddenly taking all these biology courses and know all of this useless information doesn’t give you the right to make fun of me. I’m doing just fine with my Spanish major. Yo soy muy bien.”

“I think I would know that it wasn’t hippopotamus regardless of which classes I’m enrolled in.” I stare at the hazy screen. Cora’s right. I do have a lot of useless information inhabiting my brain, serving no real function or purpose. It’s not like the stuff I’ve committed to memory will aid me at all in my college courses. I need to stop researching things that I won’t be graded on. And I need to stop obsessing over information that serves absolutely no purpose in my life anymore. He’s not going to remember me. No amount of textbook memorization, studies on retrograde amnesia, or brain anatomy education will change that. It’s unfair to challenge someone to do something when they don’t have the capacity to actually do it. He said it himself. Ran doesn’t know we ever existed, and because of that reality, it’s like we never did. That’s the way it needs to stay.

“What are you doing?” I ask as Cora slides open my closet door, thumbing through the clothes that hang there.

“I’m picking your outfit for tonight.” She tugs at a black dress that hugs every curve and holds it up, tucking the hanger under her chin. “If he doesn’t remember you, the least you can do is try to get him to notice you.”

“I’m not interested in getting noticed.” The words burn when I say them, physically causing me pain.

“Bull.” She slides the dress back in and holds up a scandalously short aqua skirt. “Every girl wants someone like Ran to notice them. It’s like in our DNA or something. Surely you’ve been learning about DNA in your recent quest to become a biologist.”

I don’t dignify her statement with a response.

“I don’t understand why you aren’t trying to get him to fall in love with you again.” Cora drops the skirt down by her side and cocks her head, giving me a sympathetic look that reads like she truly cares. And I’m sure she does. Even though she doesn’t mention it, I know she hears me when it’s three in the morning and I’m muffling my quiet sobs against my pillow. I know she sees me poring over web articles about amnesia and the likelihood of lost memories being reclaimed. She sat with me during our recent movie night and even let me suggest that film where the man suffering from amnesia suddenly remembers it all and the woman he once shared his life with, and everything falls back into place. I know Cora knows the shape of my broken heart, and she’s trying to do everything possible to help me piece it back together. But that’s an impossible task when someone else holds a huge chunk of it, and there’s no way to get it back, because they don’t even know they’re its keeper.

“I don’t want him to fall in love with me again, Cora.” I drag my hand down my face. I didn’t know a state of exhaustion could last two whole months. “He fell in love with me once. And it was perfect.”

“And it can be perfect again.” Her naïve eyes pull open wide.

“I’d never want to run the risk of it being anything less.”

Cora’s phone whistles from under the ruffled mess of her dorm room bedding. She hangs the skirt back up and strides to retrieve her cell. Only Cora would have a text alert that is a catcall. “Trav says Ran’s favorite color is blue. The aqua skirt it is.”

“You’re texting Trav? That’s so not cool, Cora.”

“I’m helping you make the best first impression possible, though it’s probably more like your fiftieth.” She races across the small stretch of space to the closet, balls up the miniskirt in her hand, and chucks it at me. “But seriously, think about it. The last real memory he has of you is covered in blood, hanging upside-down in your car. It’s time to stand out, Maggie. He likes blue. You’ll wear blue.”

“I’m not doing this.” I toss the skirt to the floor. “I don’t have the capacity to do this.”

“Umm, yes you do,” she challenges. “And just to be fair, you are the one always saying Ran doesn’t have the capacity to remember and it’s not fair to force him to try. Don’t you think that’s a little selfish to act like you’re the one who got the short end of the stick here? He’s the one missing two months of his life.”

I spin around so fast in my seat I nearly do two full rotations. “And I haven’t? I haven’t lost the only part of my life that actually meant something?” I throw my words at her with force, hoping she feels them the way I do, the way they hurt me to think them.

“You still have your memories, Maggie.”

“But what’s the point when the person you shared them with doesn’t even know they ever happened? What’s the point in hanging onto them?” I toss my hands angrily into the air. “It’s easier to pretend it never existed. That he never existed. Going out to celebrate Ran going back to work won’t help me do that. Seeing him isn’t going to help me do that. Pretending there is no Ran is my only option, Cora.”

Cora folds her arms across her chest and all but taps her toe at me like a disapproving mother would. It’s a look I’m very familiar with. “I never took you for a coward. What, are you afraid that you can’t get him to love you again?”

“No, I’m afraid that he will love me again.”

“I don’t get it.” She continues filtering through the row of tops in the closet to find the remaining pieces to my clubbing ensemble. “Wouldn’t that be a good thing?”

“Cora. Don’t you think sometimes things happen for a reason?”

She rotates her head over her shoulder like an owl. “Of course I do.”

“I don’t think it was a coincidence that Ran and I met the way we did. And I don’t think it’s a coincidence that things ended how they did, either.”

“I get that,” she agrees, nodding slowly, her back to me while she continues scanning the contents of my closet.

“It was an accident that caused us to cross paths,” I say with shaky breath. “And it was another accident that ended everything between us.” Slumping down into my seat, I slip all the way until I feel the ridge of the chair’s back against the base of my scull. “I think that was our time together, Cora. I think that was all was supposed to get. This neatly packaged amount of time with Ran in my life.” I close my eyes. “It feels selfish to want anything more.”

My lids are sealed shut, so the unanticipated bite from the impact of her palm across my cheek shocks my system and I jolt upright, my eyes flashing open quickly. “What the hell, Cora?” I cup my hand to my stinging cheek and narrow my eyes at her.

“Snap out of it, Maggie,” she sneers. “Like seriously, stop acting like this girl that doesn’t deserve any good in her life. The martyr act is getting really old.”

“I’m not trying to be a martyr,” I defend angrily. My skin burns with heat.

“I’m not saying your life is a cakewalk. You have a bitch for a mother, your brother’s got cancer, and you finally had the chance to find real love, only to have it taken from you. On many levels, your life completely sucks.” Cora’s face is inches from mine. I can smell her bubble gum just under my nose. “But on many more levels, your life could be the envy of so many people. You know why?” She tilts her head and widens her eyes. After several seconds, she tosses her head, as if asking for a response.

“No.” I totally thought that was supposed to be rhetorical.

“Because all of those people are still alive.” She snaps an enormous bubble between her lips. “You still have the gift of time. Some people aren’t that lucky.”

***

“I changed my mind, we’re not going to the club,” Trav says as soon as I open the door. He shamelessly scans me head to toe, his eyes lingering a little too long at my bare upper legs. “Forget Ran, I’m keeping you to myself tonight.”

“Very funny, Trav,” I say, hiking my purse up my shoulder. Cora blows me a kiss from her position under her covers. She’s lucky my blush did a good job making my other cheek equally as red as the one she’d slapped earlier. “For the record, I still don’t want to do this.”

“I know.” Trav hooks his arm my direction, and I slide my hand through the triangular space he’s created. “But tonight is a big night for Ran and it would just seem wrong to celebrate it without you there, you know?”

I don’t answer and we head toward his truck in the south parking lot. I have to delicately position myself into his vehicle in an attempt not to completely flash him, because I could probably be cited for indecent exposure in this skirt. I don’t even know why I still have it. Brian bought it for me back when we were dating, and I remember thinking how not me it was at the time. It’s even more not me now. How did I let Cora talk me into wearing this?

“We’re meeting at Ran’s house first for drinks.” Trav engages the key and starts the engine.

My pulse quickens. “I thought he didn’t drink.” Normally it wouldn’t bother me. Ran’s twenty-two and plenty old enough to drink if he chooses. But he’d told me he didn’t drink before, and the thought of him doing it now makes me wonder if he’s lost more than just these two months. Maybe he’s forgotten more about himself than everyone thinks.

“He doesn’t.” Trav flips the blinker and coasts onto the freeway. The dark of night coats the road and the headlights reflect and flicker like stars against the pavement, which is wet from the brief afternoon shower. “But I do. And believe me, Ran’s coworkers are celebrating tonight just as much as he is. We’re all thrilled to have our buddy back.”

I run my palms up and down my legs. It’s almost March but tonight is unseasonably cold, and this skirt is unusually skimpy. What am I doing here?

We drive the next ten minutes in silence.

“Why did you want me to come, Trav?” I look at him across the seat.

When I see the exit up ahead that will lead us to Ran’s townhome, I have the sudden urge to yank on the handle and leap from the moving vehicle. I can’t do this.

“Because you have every right to be a part of Ran’s life as the rest of us.”

I press my lips together firmly. “Um, no I don’t. He has no idea who I am.”

The car makes a sharp right and I can see the stretch of vehicles lined outside Ran’s place. Trav pulls in behind a beat up Volkswagen bug that has at least five different paint colors layering it, making it resemble a patchwork quilt.

“He knows who you are, Maggie.” Trav kills the engine and angles toward me in the cab. “He remembers your accident and he remembers you coming to the hospital to see him. It’s not like you’re a stranger.”

“But still—even if he remembers that—why do you keep calling me and pushing me to be around him? Why not just let it all go?”

Trav wraps the truck keys in his fingers and the metal jingles in his palm as he hesitates to open the door. “Because I saw what he was like when he was with you.” He stretches a hand toward the handle and keeps it there as he finishes speaking. “And I don’t think I could live with myself if I knew he had the potential to have that again, and I did nothing to help him get it back.” Trav pops the door open. “Seriously, what kind of person would that make me?”

“A normal one.”

“It’s not normal to sit back and watch your best friend miss out on love just because he doesn’t remember it.” Trav slams the door shut and skirts the edge of the truck to come to the passenger side. He opens my door. “Let’s go make him remember, shall we?”

“That’s not what I’m here for.” I slip out of my seat and readjust my skirt, wishing I had about six more inches to work with.

“Honestly, it doesn’t matter why you’re here. I’m just glad you are. And I know Ran will be, too.”

We walk the steps toward the townhouse and follow another couple in. The small entryway is at maximum occupancy and I rise up on toe to try to count the tops of people’s heads, but there are just too many. Maybe I’ll be able to avoid seeing Ran altogether. His quaint living quarters feels more like the scene of a college frat party, and it would be quite easy to get swallowed up in the congestion of bodies and haze of intoxication.

Trav pushes at my back and we slide into the room. There’s a huge “Welcome Back, Ran!” banner draped over the mantel, and the breakfast bar is cluttered with bottles that vary in height and shape. Someone’s taken on the role as resident bartender and is mixing up potent concoctions in red plastic cups.

“What can I get you?” the bartender asks above the volume of chatter and music that pulses through the room.

“Nothing, thanks.” I stay close to Trav like he’s my security blanket.

“You’re the second person to turn down one of my infamous mixtures tonight,” the bartender huffs, half-annoyed, half-joking. He bites on the metal ring that hooks through his front lip. “Couldn’t even get the party-boy to try one. I figured if anyone could use a drink, it would have been Ran.”

Trav nods and we push past the kitchen to the family room. I don’t recognize anyone, and it makes me feel not only foolish, but stupid, as I look around at the unfamiliar faces. The faces of the people who are supposedly part of Ran’s life. I’ve never met them. I don’t know any of them. I hate the hollow feeling it brings to my stomach, the realization that what Ran and I had existed in some sort of vacuum. I wasn’t really a part of his life at all. If I were, these would be the faces of my friends, too, not the strangers that they are to me now.

“Ran!” When Trav calls out his name, my legs immediately buckle and my heart, which had been racing to the rhythmic metronome of the house music, stops for more beats than it should. Dizziness swallows my vision and my thinking.

“Hey man,” Ran says, his strong hand clasped on Trav’s shoulder. He flashes his knee-weakening smile and his expression falls slightly when he turns his head my direction, like I’m the one thing that doesn’t belong in this scenario. One of these things is not like the other. “Maggie,” he says, drawing his head back. “I didn’t think I’d see you again after the hospital.” His brow is tight and his eyes cloud with confusion. Ran looks from Trav back to me, as though he’s processing something and can’t grasp the answer.

“Trav invited me.” I don’t say anything else. I tug the hem of my dress, willing the fabric to cover more than it possibly can.

Ran nods and swivels his head to look around the room. “Make yourselves at home, you two. I think someone said we’re heading out in fifteen.”

“Sounds good to me,” Trav says, pulling me out of Ran’s line of sight and back toward the makeshift bar. “You okay being the DD tonight, Maggie? I could really go for a drink.”

I bob my head up and down in a daze. “Yeah, no problem.” Though Ran’s not near us, I still trail him with my eyes as he works his way around the room, exchanging laughter and smiles with the rest of his guests. The way he looks at each of them—the way he interacts with them like he knows them—breaks something in me, and I thought I didn’t have anything left to break. I thought all the damage had been done, but the longing for that same look of recognition is almost enough to make me combust and shatter into pieces. I dig my nails into the palm of my hand to try to find some sort of release.

“You okay, Maggie?” Trav rubs the space between my shoulder blades affectionately. “Is this too much?”

“Yes and yes.” I’m still following all of Ran’s movements, and when he unexpectedly swivels on his heel and catches me spying, the look of utter confusion etched on his face twists my gut.

Trav pats my back and takes a swig from his cup. “You’re doing great. Believe me, I saw Ran sneak a peek at those tantalizing legs of yours, and he definitely liked what he saw.”

I shake off his comment.

I’m about to ask Trav if it would be okay if I call Cora to come get me when I feel something brush across the back of my leg. I spin around to see two brown eyes staring up at me. Nikon wags his tail with such force that his hind legs hardly meet the ground.

“Hey boy,” I murmur, slipping down to his level. His tail picks up speed and he lunges toward me with all his weight. I tumble back slightly and regain my balance as I scratch and ruff up the fur on his head. “I’ve missed you,” I whisper. Nikon leans his whole body into me and I drag my fingers through his thick coat of fur. I stay low at his level for as long as I can, glad to avoid the meaningless interactions that are taking place up above me.

“He seems to like you.” I hadn’t noticed him slip down, and Ran’s unexpected, gravelly voice knocks me off balance more than Nikon did. “Nikon’s not usually so affectionate with new people.”

I smile weakly and pull at my skirt, realizing I’m in the worst possible position for it right now. I continue running my fingers through the dog’s fur.

“Maggie,” Ran says quietly. “It was nice of you to come tonight.” His blue eyes are open, honest. “Trav hasn’t stopped talking about you for at least a month.”

Of course he hasn’t. He’s made it his personal mission to get you to fall in love with me again. I don’t say it, but I can’t help but think it.

Ran tilts his body up toward Trav who’s dancing with some blonde wearing leopard print heels and a purple, clingy dress, their bodies pressed close together almost like they’re one unit. His drink sloshes over the rim of his cup, but Trav doesn’t seem to notice.

“You’re okay with him doing that?” Ran points a finger to the red cup in Trav’s unsteady grasp.

“Yeah,” I answer, shrugging my shoulders. “I told him I’d be his designated driver.”

“I’m not talking about the drinking. I’m talking about the dancing with other girls part.” Ran is still hunkered down, stroking Nikon’s neck. Our fingers are so close as they graze past each other, his running head to tail and mine traveling in the reverse direction.

“I don’t care who he dances with.” I muster my courage and look Ran in the eye. Immediately, I wish I hadn’t, because the pain it causes takes the form of water burning the back of mine.

“You don’t strike me as the type of girl that would be okay with her boyfriend dancing with other girls, am I right?”

My eyes pop out of my skull. “You don’t think Trav and I are—?” I shake the stunned stare from my face.

“You’re not?” Ran’s hand stops just above Nikon’s hackles, brushing my fingers that were scratching him there. Shivers run through me like a current. “I just assumed, you know, because he talks about you so much.”

“No,” I assure. “Trav and I are just friends.” I swallow the laugh that comes with the thought of me being interested in someone like Trav. He’s mildly attractive with his auburn ringlets and endearing dimples, but he’s definitely not my type. Not that I have a type anymore, unless you can call Ran a type. “And you’re right. I’m not the kind of girl that is okay with my boyfriend dancing with someone else. But in this case, Trav can dance with whomever he pleases. The more the merrier.”

A small smile sweeps over Ran’s mouth. “Are you going to Sliver with us tonight?”

I nod. I know heading to the club is next on the agenda. Up until this point, I had been working on a plan to get out of the clubbing portion of the evening, but having Ran ask me changes all of that. For as much as I know I need to steer clear of him, everything else in me craves any second I can get in his presence.

“Good. I have to do some more mingling, but maybe we can catch up there.” Ran pushes off his knees. “And seriously, Nikon is never this friendly with strangers. Must be something about you, Maggie.”

I keep my eyes on my fingers that rake monotonously through Nikon’s fur and don’t look up at Ran when he leaves. “Must be something about you, too,” I mumble under my breath, and I pin my lip between my teeth to halt the tremble that accompanies the words.