My mother showed up like a change in the weather. It was not a storm or anything just that feeling you get when the air changes and you feel like something is about to happen. She came into the room at 7:43 in the morning still wearing her travel coat with her carry-on bag rolling behind her. She looked around the room taking everything in like she always did. Then her eyes landed on me. Her face just relaxed with relief.
"Mom " I said.
She came over. Held my face in her hands looking at me like only a mother can. Like she was making sure I was really okay.
"You gave me the week of my life " she said.
"I was asleep the time " I said. "I did not have much to do with it."
She laughed, even though she did not want to and pulled me into a hug. This hug was not careful like Zoeys hug. This hug was like she had been waiting to hug me for four days and was not going to be gentle about it.
I hugged her back hard as I could.
When she finally let go she kept her hands on my shoulders. Looked at me again. Really looked at me. I could see the relief in her eyes. Also something quieter and more complicated. She was looking at me like she knew about my memory loss. Was seeing it for real.
"You do not remember " she said softly.
"Some things I remember " I said. "Not everything." I squeezed her hands. "I remember you. I remember being nine and breaking your mug and hiding the pieces under my bed for two weeks."
She laughed again this time it was steadier. "You were a liar."
"I probably still am " I said.
She sat down on the edge of my bed. Held my hand and we talked for almost an hour. We talked about her flight, about the neighbor who watered her garden about all the things that people who love each other talk about.
She did not mention Nathan.
I noticed that.
I was thinking about whether I should bring it up when the door opened.
He knocked first like he always did. Then he came in with a cup of coffee in each hand and a bag from the bakery under his arm. He stopped when he saw my mother sitting on my bed.
My mother turned around.
I watched them look at each other.
It was a serious look. Like they had a history that had nothing to do with me.
My mothers face said: You have a lot to answer for.
Nathans face said: I know.
"Mrs. Voss " he said. His voice was even. "I am glad you made it safely."
"Nathan " she said. She said his name like it was a sentence. Then she stood up smoothed her coat and said, "I will go find us some breakfast." She looked at him for one moment and then at me. "I will be back in twenty minutes."
She left.
Nathan put the coffees down on the bedside table. He moved the bakery bag to the windowsill. He did not sit down.
"She hates me " he said. Not really a question.
"I do not know why " I said. ". Based on what I see I think she has her reasons."
He almost smiled. "That is fair."
He looked better than yesterday. Still tired,. Not as tired. He was wearing a suit, navy instead of charcoal. Same watch. His hair was neat.
I was looking at him I realized. Without deciding to.
"There is a croissant in the bag " he said. "The plain ones. I did not know which you liked now. You used to like the plain ones."
I looked at the bag. Then at him. "You went to a bakery this morning."
"Yes."
"Before coming."
"Yes."
I tried to imagine Nathan, this careful man, standing in a bakery line before eight in the morning to buy croissants for me.
"Thank you " I said.
He nodded. Looked at the window. Outside the city was waking up.
"How are you feeling?" he asked.
"Like someone who got hit by a car four days ago " I said. "I am supposed to walk today. Short distances."
"Good " he said. He said it like he really meant it.
"I found something " I said.
He looked at me.
"My clothes from the accident were in the wardrobe. My coat." I picked up what I had placed on the bedside table earlier. "This was in the pocket."
It was a folded piece of paper. My handwriting on the outside a word: enough.
He looked at it in my hand.
He did not take it.
"Did you open it?" he asked. His voice was very controlled.
"No " I said. "It is mine.. It feels like it was meant for someone."
"Is it for you?" I asked.
He was quiet for a moment.
"I think it was meant to be " he said.
"Did you know about it?" I asked.
"No " he said. "I did not know."
I looked at the paper in my hand. At the word on the outside: enough.
The person who wrote this had made a decision. Had folded it up. Put it in her coat pocket and walked out into the world.
Then a car had run a red light.
"I am not going to read it " I said.
He looked at me. "It is yours."
"I know " I said. ". The person who wrote it knew something I do not know. So I am going to leave it where it's. For now."
He stared at me.
"The old me was working with a picture " I said. "I am not. So I am going to leave it."
"Elara " he said. His voice was rough again. "You do not have to. "
"I know I do not have to " I said. ". I want to be fair. Even if she did not get to be."
He sat down then. In the chair to me. He put his elbows on his knees. Looked at his hands and he was quiet for a long time.
Then he said, "She was braver than I deserved."
"The old me?" I asked.
"Yes."
I thought about that. "And the new me?"
He looked up. There was something in his expression. Like a window that had been closed for a time.
"I do not know her yet " he said. "The new you."
"No " I agreed. "You do not."
We sat there for a moment. The city moved outside the window. The coffee steamed quietly. On the bedside table the folded note sat quietly.
I thought about getting up. About walking. About moving through the world.
"Will you walk with me?" I asked. "Just, down the hall. I am supposed to try today. I would rather not do it alone."
He stood up immediately. Like he had been waiting to be useful.
"Yes " he said. "Of course."
He gave me his arm. It was a thing to do. He was being careful. He did not think he could just take my hand or anything.
I took his arm.
Then we walked out into the hallway together. We were two people who were just starting something. We did not know what it was yet.
Behind us on the table, to the bed the note was still there.
That is all.
Maybe that is all it needs to be.
Maybe it is also the beginning of something.