Trust me.
Great. So, Future Me has gambled the jobs of my entire team on some ‘amazing big idea’ that no one else knows about, least of all me. I’ll need to call Michael and break it to him that however screwed he thinks we are, we’re infinitely more screwed because there is no idea, big, small, or even medium-sized. As I’m mulling the unfortunate timing of all this, a small thought takes hold. Isn’t this what I asked for – to have my ideas heard, to be taken seriously? If Coleson Matthews can do this job, surely I can – memory or no memory. How hard can it be to come up with one great idea? These last few days, grief has knocked me into neutral. But now, with the prospect of doing something useful, something inside me notches into gear. I always loved a challenge.
Felix is in his room doing homework. I offer to help, but he says he’s not doing alien studies right now. Rude. He does ask what we’re having for tea though, and with Maria gone, I guess that’s now my responsibility. Ooh I could make my signature dish – risotto balls, everyone loves my risotto balls.
But cooking with a toddler in tow turns out to be significantly harder than regular cooking. I end up throwing one batch in the bin because I burnt them, then resort to letting Amy watch cartoons on my phone to get the second batch in the oven. By the time I’m done, it feels like I’ve used every pan in the kitchen, and both my and Amy’s patience have been thoroughly tested. Abandoning all the dishes in the sink, I take her into the hall to roll a ball back and forth, which delights her for all of two minutes before she decides she’d rather chew the ball.
‘You’re not in bed.’ Sam’s voice takes me by surprise, and I turn to see him standing in the hallway watching us, a huge smile on his face.
‘Yes. Sorry I’ve been so out of it,’ I say, getting to my feet.
‘It’s fine,’ he says, walking across the hall to pick up Amy, who gurgles in delight as he lifts her above his head. ‘Do what you need to do to get well.’
‘I’m not sure bed rest was helping. I think I should try and get back into my normal routine, if you could just tell me what that involves.’
‘Well, on a Saturday, we’d usually have friends over for a game of jetpack polo in the garden,’ Sam says, swinging Amy from side to side.
‘Really?’
‘No,’ he says, his expressive eyes flashing with mischief.
‘Okay, some ground rules, no jokes like that – not fair on the woman with amnesia,’ I say, pretending to frown. ‘Do we really have jetpacks though?’
‘No jetpacks. Sorry,’ he says, then puts Amy on the floor and walks across to pull me into a hug. ‘It’s great to see you up.’
He leans forward to kiss me, but he must feel me tense because he pauses then kisses me on the head instead. ‘Sorry. I keep forgetting I’m a stranger to you.’
I shake my head, feeling awkward. ‘It’s fine, sorry, it’s just—’
‘Don’t apologise,’ he says, covering the sting of rejection with an overblown smile.
‘I know this must be difficult for you too, and for the children,’ I say, then pause, pulling my hands behind my back, not sure where to put them. Seeing Sam again in daylight, I’m reminded how tall he is, what a presence he has, how perfectly his jeans fit, sitting at just the right level on his hips. ‘Can I ask, do you know anything about a pitch off, something happening at my work?’ I ask, drawing my eyes up from his hips.
‘You can’t worry about work now,’ Sam says with a frown. ‘Your health needs to take priority.’
‘So, I didn’t happen to mention some amazing “big idea” to you?’
Sam shakes his head. ‘Afraid not. If you’d written something down, it could be in your office.’
‘I have an office?’
‘Second door on the right.’ He points down the corridor towards the back door.
‘Okay, thanks. I might take a look later,’ I say, smiling up at him, resting one hand on my hip, then switching it up to put one hand behind my back. How does a normal person stand? I feel like I’ve forgotten.
‘I’ll make the kids dinner then, shall I?’ Sam asks, reaching out to brush a strand of hair away from my face.
‘I already made food,’ I tell him. ‘Risotto balls; they just need warming up.’
‘Risotto balls? Wow. That’s a first.’ Sam looks impressed and I shrug, as though it was nothing. Then he looks me in the eye and says, ‘Hello, stranger.’ It takes me a moment to realise he means it as a joke about the fact I don’t usually cook, but the way he says it makes me feel as though he’s talking to me – the real me.
‘Hi,’ I say, holding his gaze. Then my stomach flutters – a spark, some kinetic burst of energy. I sense he feels it too, because his body stills and he doesn’t look away. Whatever this feeling is, it’s both unnerving and oddly familiar. I don’t know what to do with it, or how to respond, so I turn to walk away. ‘Um, I just need to talk to Felix, if you’re okay to watch Amy,’ I say, heading for the stairs, suddenly self-conscious about how I’m walking. Am I strutting? Is this my normal walk?
‘Sure,’ says Sam, exhaling heavily, before picking Amy up off the floor.
As I walk up the stairs, I need to hold the banisters to steady myself, because my whole body now feels charged with an undefinable tension. Why am I being so awkward and weird? Then it dawns on me. This is how I get when I have a crush on someone.
Chapter 17
Felix is sitting on his bed, reading an encyclopaedia. I know I’ve upset him, and I need to fix it.
‘I’m taking your advice – I’m not letting Tom Hoskyns or anyone else steal a day from me,’ I say, and he gives me a grudging smile. ‘There’s food downstairs if you’re hungry.’
‘Will you look at my Portal Quest now?’ he asks.
‘Sure,’ I say, humouring him. I sit down on his bed and he eagerly hands me his tablet. The first screen asks, ‘What does your portal look like?’ It then takes me through a series of questions about the machine’s size, colour, lights and functionality. Once I’ve answered the final question, a graphic appears – a rudimentary digital sketch of the wishing machine. It looks like it’s been drawn by a child, which of course, it has.
‘Is that what it looks like?’ Felix asks, bouncing his bottom up and down on the bed.
‘Yes, that’s it,’ I say, trying to be diplomatic.
‘Now we just need to put it online. Someone will see it, someone will know where we can find one.’ He pauses. ‘I made a list of possible websites, forums that arcade game collectors use.’ He opens another tab on his tablet. ‘You have to be over eighteen to post on them though.’
‘Thanks for doing all this, Felix, but could I look through the list tonight, when I have time to research it properly?’ I don’t want to rain on his parade, but I doubt even the most avid collector would be able to identify the machine from this sketch. ‘Do you want me to help you with your school project?’ I nod towards the cardboard heart sitting on his desk.