He gently pressed buzzer and waited for response. He waited for minutes, just standing there on the balcony waiting. He was about to try again, but there she was in an oversized sweater, bare foot. She gave a wry smile and stepped to the side, he took that as an invitation to walk in, still not sure about how to begin what promised to be a very uncomfortable conversation.

Adele’s ‘one and only’ played softly from the sound system, in the vast living room. A shelf loomed to the by the minibar holding potteries and numerous souvenirs. A little gold plated Buddha glinted on the top shelf next to the glazed vase holding flowers in ikebana arrangement.

Today, he found himself staring at objects in the room that still to reminded him of how much a stranger he still was here, the reason he’d wanted them to move in together had Dr Alex Queen not declined on both cultural and taking-things-slow grounds; why he couldn’t bring himself to spend the night here if he could help it. The upturned portrait on the glistening glass table next to the remote control gave him an idea of what Queen had been up to, it saddened him.

“you didn’t show for work today,” he found the voice to state the obvious. She had called in sick. “and your phone had been off.”

“can I get you anything?” she asked, her voice strained. The formality of it hurts.

“can we just talk?” she was looking at the direction of the refrigerator one could see from the opened door to the kitchen. She slowly retreated to where a recent dent had been on the sofa by the side of the table, at arm’s reach from the portrait.

“turns out I had so many off days laid off, pretending to be sick so I could take a breather couldn’t hurt.” she said.

“just as I always say.” he replied with a smile, and for a moment there was normalcy, then the tension came back to the air. Their eyes met across the table. She twiddled her thumbs, then raised her hand as if to bit her nail only to stop shot and support her chin with it. She stared now with that perfect deadpan only few in Dave’s life have been closest to touching. Dave sighed. “I should have told you_”

She shook her head, “you don’t have to. Besides…” her voice trailed off, she shook head as if in regret, “there’s something I need to tell you.” She sighed then looked towards the white screen shielding the room from the direct sun rays and glowing like LED, swipe those aside and you’ll want to live in a loft the rest of your life, the view from here—wonderful. This was not the reality in those eyes. “…I am_”

“I want to. I want to tell you everything.” He hastily said, after waiting for the import of her words to perfectly settle. Couldn’t bear to let her say anything else without hearing him out, he had automatically inserted his words, stopping hers. The resignedness in her voice was yet to strike him as odd, all he could think about was what he had to say, and how to say it right. “I knew Grace from a long while ago before I went to study abroad. We were just teenagers… I should have told you everything, I just didn’t… I’m sorry.” He wondered if she made sense of anything he was saying because his own mind could hardly keep up with his ramblings. Moments later, He couldn’t remember all he kept saying trying to explain everything as honestly as he could. “I should have told you everything.” He kept saying when he ran out of words.

Queen was quiet. She stood up, excused herself, walked to the kitchen, came back empty handed. She walked over to where he sat, and sat cross legged on the sofa facing him. She stared inquisitively, “and now what?” she twirled her hair with one hand, laid back in a gesture that was probably supposed to mean she couldn’t care less, but her eyes betrayed her.

The question probably took him longer to process that he should have. Now what? Do you want to figure everything out, then we could continue? Are you already in love with Grace again, or have been in love with her the whole time? Do you need time to figure things out? Do you want us to figure it out together? Is there still space for us? Now what? “I just wanted to tell you everything thing.” It was the truth plain and simple.

“have you?” she asked, staring pointedly at him, “have you told me everything?”

“of course.” He reached for her hands, she didn’t draw away, he guessed it was a good sign. “I think… anything else you’d like to know?”

“how do you feel about her?” she asked.

Another beat. This conversation kept taking unexpected turn leaving him tongue tied.

“Honestly. I don’t know.” He stammered. Everything is unfolding in ways he never expected. He had questions of his own like: why had Grace kept the pregnancy a secret? Could it be the kid, Jesse? Had his family known this whole time? Which would explain why his mother was so defensive, preparing for a lawsuit like Grace was supposed to wake up and draw blood. And Wright, his silence said more than the few conversations they had could. He felt betrayed, lied to all these years.

Queen smiled sadly, shook her head, and said quietly, “then I have to let you figure it out.”

There it was, the choice he never thought he’d be confronted with, and so soon. To choose between Queen who meant everything to him, or Grace who made him feel like a teenager falling in love for the first time. Between the certainty with Queen and the vast unknown that came with real life knowledge of Grace. Between the calm cool logic and shared interests, and the raging emotions, that sometimes seeing Grace, he’d feel like he didn’t need air anymore. Queen was giving him a choice, hell, an out. But his mind was made up, he had the whole night to think about it, he loved Grace and might have fancied himself in love with her, but such infatuations didn’t matter, not to him, he’s a grownup who would make grown up choices. Besides the Grace he’d known the past few days was probably no more now that her memory is back, she’d hate him for the same reasons she had, the same reasons she didn’t want to have anything to do with him when he tried to reach out years ago.

“then we figure it out together.” He said. Her eyes went wide, and he could tell she was holding her breath, he held her hands and kissed them. “don’t make me choose, between finding the truth and loving you. Because you know what my choice would be.”

“I’m sorry_”

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m leaving.” she said, her voice so small he barely heard her. She said it again.

“leaving?”

“it’s not about you.” She held his wrist firmly like she’d never let go, but the look in her eyes screamed ‘goodbye’. “I had thought about how to tell you this,” she sniffed, “damn it.” she reached for her forehead like she was having some headache.

“I don’t understand.” But he did. The turn of event didn’t make sense, but on some level it did. It was what she was trying to tell him all along. That no matter what his decision is, she’d made hers. She was leaving him. He didn’t know the details. He couldn’t believe his ears.

“…and then you’re here, saying all these things,” she looked at the ceiling batting her eye as she spoke probably to hold back tears, “and I’m sure you mean them.” she looked away briefly, sniffed again and wiped her face with the back of her hand, then held his wrist again. “I’m leaving you. I’m moving away, to London.”

“But your research?” he spontaneously asked, his last ditch effort, desperate to make her see reason. He knew how much the research meant to her, how it was her way of coping with Ibrahim’s death, over her guilt. He’d watched her struggle and would just want to reach out and take all her pain well concealed away. He was appealing to her only sentiment he was sure of. The man she had loved. Not Dave, a dead guy. The guy whose portrait was upturned on the table, a portrait she was probably staring at before he arrived, the same guy whose sweater she was wearing—talk of not being the sentimental kind! The man who once shared this apartment with her. Ibrahim was a computer programmer, who was taking some time out from his firm when they met. Queen had told him once that for once in her life she had actually experienced what it means like to live. Sometimes they’d be having a conversation and she’d drift off to some trip she had with Ibrahim somewhere. He travelled the world with Queen whenever she was free even when he struggled with Guillain-Barre Syndrome, a disease where his immune system attacks his nerves, leading to paralysis. He responded poorly to treatment. The experimental drug, Eclizumab, that Queen convinced him to take ended up giving him intracranial abscess, a one in a million side-effect. He died in surgery. He had been friends with Queen shortly before the guy died. It was that memory he could appeal to as everything in his relationship turned topsy-turvy in an instant, it felt sick the moment the words left his lips, he regretted it immediately. Never in his life did he thought he’d be in this situation. Usually, he was the one doing the leaving, playing the distance game, ghosting.

“My research will be moved there. They have better equipment, better funding too. it won’t stop. And I get to live close to my parents.” She sighed, her eyes pleading. “I’ve been meaning to tell you. But_”

“you had to wait for the right moment? God.” He removed his hand from her grasp. “you had to wait for something like this? Since when have you known?”

“two months ago.”

“You have informed the hospital haven’t you?” it all felt surreal, all that had played right under his nose and he was too stupid to see. His mother’s cryptic caution. “it’s why you couldn’t come to my family dinner.”

“I told your mother to let me tell you myself.” She sighed.  “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“I’m sorry to disappoint you.” He shook his head, “that’s exactly what you’ve done.”

He gently stood up, surprised he still could. And walked out without looking back, painfully waiting for Queen to call him back to tell him she was joking. But it was all real. Queen wasn’t just leaving the country, she made It clear she was leaving him. He couldn’t understand why, but Queen’s mind was made.

********
No one really knows for sure how this works. That was what the neurologist told her. They had always said her memories would return, but no one said how or when or how complete. But Grace felt relieved. She looked at Susan and she wasn’t just some imposing friend over the phone, she was her best friend, who she’d never trust alone in the kitchen to fix any meal, but who she’d certainly want to call if she’s in doubt about anything. She had met her on a plane, Susan made a not so great comment about her fashion choice, she replied it wasn’t a big deal considering she was going for a funeral. Days later Susan was at the funeral, and the reception serving guests like she’d known her and her late Aunt for a lifetime. She was that weird. She was what Grace needed to settle in the Country she hadn’t been in for the past eight years. Susan was earthy, real, maybe a little over the top sometimes, she was many great things Grace wasn’t, outgoing, party-seeking, ridiculously honest.

She saw Raymond and could remember their last performance, and many before. How she had influenced his visit to the Philippines, on a private matter she didn’t want to discuss with Susan around. He looked happy. She liked that. He stayed for hours, during which they watched a replay of Manchester United Vs Leeds United—which they had both missed—and finished the cookies and soft drinks he brought.

“Hey sleepy head.” Susan called from the door holding bags on both hands, she settled and brought take outs. Fried rice with glistening crisply fried drumstick and excess salad. Susan picked more greens from her plate and placed them on Grace’s. “you know,” she said between munches, “says its good for bones and stuffs.”

Grace rolled her eyes, and found herself looking at the glass from which she could see whoever walks the hall way. Susan wanted to pull the curtain, but he wouldn’t let her just yet, perhaps she was hoping to catch a passing glimpse of Dave. But she couldn’t. She had asked an OR Nurse, that came to check on her last night when Doctor Dave would be on duty and she said till next week.

She was all good now, she was her old self again more or less, there were somethings she still couldn’t remember like when Susan was making reference to what she had apparently said about some stalker boyfriend that she couldn’t remember. She tried to nod and act like she did, but Susan quicker than a fox, had that knowing look, she nodded, looking a bit disappointed, “it will come.”

Grace didn’t have Dave’s number, it didn’t seem like he would just evaporate like that, but now he wished she could. She wanted to ask Doctor Segun, but when he said that Doctor Alex was taking a sick leave, her thoughts pieced two and two together and she figured she should perish the thought of disturbing him. She looked at the wall clock, it was midday, he was obviously not coming anytime soon.

Susan stood up abruptly and pulled the curtain with a fluid swish. “I’d rather not have passer-by see how I eat my salads.” She said.

Grace tried to act like it didn’t matter. She wasn’t sure how to broach the topic of Dave when Susan had repeated warned her not to let his ‘niceties’ deceive her from making them pay for all they did to her. But Grace wasn’t sure she wanted anyone to pay, Dave had been nothing but kind and had saved her life on not one but two occasions. Had he not been there yesterday, contrary to what Susan might have liked, she’d be in some body bag somewhere in the morgue. She shuddered at the morbid thought.

She called Angela, Susan’s jaw was all but hanging down when she loudly asked Angela to send Dave’s number. Susan frowned. Grace shrugged, “he saved my life!”

“and what would you tell him?” she asked, arms akimbo.

“’thanks.’” She sighed, “don’t make a big deal of this.”

“am I?” Susan looked frustrated, like Grace would never understand how big a mistake this decision was. “you trusted me to handle this, please let me.”

“it’s only right.” Grace insisted. After further argument, Susan decided Grace could make the call but she’d write down exactly what she should tell him: “Hey, its Grace. Thank you for everything. Bye.” She scribbled that on a paper of a jotter that had her firm’s logo and name watermarked everywhere.

“Really?”

“they can misconstrue anything you say.”

“I thought you said, they’ve agreed to a deal.”

“yes.”

“so?”

“we’ll accept the settlement after you’ve been cleared and discharged.”

Grace felt ire, Susan was just looking out for her interest, but it felt a little bit too much.

“and if you must know.” Susan continued, “he was here yesterday but I sent him away. Had a little bit of argument.” She sounded so casual about it she might have been talking about the weather.

“you what?” Grace wouldn’t believe Susan had just ‘a bit of argument’, the lady makes a living out of arguing her points. Poor Dave. “This has got to stop.”

“yeah, okay.”  She said, making the call herself. She put the phone on speaker, “switched off.” She repeated the annoying monotonous voice of the computer.

Susan had laid the plan for her, how the settlement would help save the boutique, compensate for the time-out from her career. She was sure her plan was iron clad and the Silvas knew this. Beside they wouldn’t want to have bad press this close to presidential election. And Susan was armed by a message the wife of the man behind the wheel had posted in an online prayer group stating her husband’s heart condition and how he wasn’t supposed to do any strenuous work. None of it felt right. But Susan was ready to do the ‘dirty work’ and was she supposed to just sit and pretend to not care? “trust me they won’t miss the money.” Susan assured.

Susan refused to leave for the night, she sat on the chair, with her foot on the other, just like Dave had done. When Grace offered she come to sleep on the bed, she eagerly hopped on, lie with her back to her and soon soft snores sounded. Grace sighed. Her phone vibrated on the bed and she picked up hastily when she saw who it was, she wished more than ever that she was mobile enough to stealthily escape the room. “quite an awful time for a Doctor to be calling.” She said, trying to sound as casual as possible.

“I…” he stammered, had he dialled a wrong number? Possible. “I…”

“cat got your tongue, stranger?”

He laughed, and sighed loudly. She guessed he was just surprise she was alright and very relieved too, “just calling to check on you. I hope you’re better? Say Hi to your friend for me.” He said, all in one breath and stopped.

“Okay.” She held the phone to her ear even when he was sure the conversation was done, and it feels like Dave had done the same too, as if they were both listening to each other’s breath.

Susan cleared her throat, and Grace almost jumped. She ended the call. “what?” she asked Susan who stared quizzically at her. On her face were questions Grace wasn’t sure she had answers to.

******
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