Page 113 of Love What's Left
“The ‘hang in there’ is a clever play on words, while the flora and fauna form a peaceful background to juxtapose the kitten’s wide eyes and desperate position. Overall, I find this much-bigger-than-life-sized depiction of a fluffy gray Felis catus domestica to be a moving allegory for both vulnerability and perseverance,” I say in a tone generally reserved for art history professors and museum docents. “Also”—I turn and wink at him—“it’s cute as the dickens.”
His tension eases a fraction, and he grins. “God, I love it when you talk nerd.”
“Genus and species isn’t nerd. It’s tenth-grade biology.”
“You probably aren’t aware, but I’m very interested in studying anatomy. Namely, yours. One-on-one,” he says. “It’s a very specialized interest.”
“Surprisingly, I did know that. I consider you an expert in the field.”
After a moment, the humor eases from both of our faces. I wrap my arms around his waist, burrowing under his suit jacket, as the weight of what I’m about to attempt descends. What if I remember something that devastates us both? What if I remember nothing?
Hope and fear and even impatience leave me emotionally dizzy, unsurewhatI should be feeling.
“You don’t have to do this,” he murmurs, one last time.
“I do. But if you need me to wait a little longer, we can. It hasn’t even been a week since you got out of the hospital.”
He gives a disbelieving laugh. “I’m solid as a rock. This isn’t about me.”
At my look of concern, he shrugs. “Yeah, I’m angry with your co-workers and the situation in general, and I’m worried about you. But if you think you’re ready to walk back into the lab, then I’m not disrespecting you by not backing you up.”
“I need to remember what happened here. Ameliaroofiedyou.” I want to do more than remember. I want to make her pay.
“We don’t have proof it was her,” he reminds me.
The security video exonerated Frederick Granthy, who never got close enough to drug my drink. It did catch Amelia standing behind Gabriel, but his body blocked her actions from the camera.
He indicates the nearest door. “Lab first or break room?”
The break room would be a soft target. I could ease into things by checking out that space first, but I don’t think it has the answers I’m looking for. “Lab. Let’s see if this location and these people can knock some memories loose.”
My first thought when the door swings open with the swipe of my new keycard is that the place feels wrong. Watching intensely boring security footage from the past several weeks wasn’t enough to prepare me.
Everything built-in remains the same as it was when I worked here. The counters and cabinets along the walls, the workstations, the bank of lockers, PPE and eyewash stations, a safety shower, and the glass-walled isolation chamber at the far back, are all where I’d expect to see them. But virtually everything that wasn’t structural or nailed down has been rearranged. The computers are along the opposite wall, a frankly stupid choice. Even the white and blue box of plastic pipettes is in a different location.
“I knownext to nothing about how you did your job, but I remember what this room looked like, and this isn’t it,” Gabriel says.
“You think Rob changed things as a way of giving me the middle finger?” I ask.
“The last time we spoke about the lab, Rob had convinced himself you were never coming back. I don’t think it was done for revenge. More to mark territory.” He sucks on his eyetooth in irritation. “I should’ve had him fired years ago, but especially after you started your medical leave.”
“I’m the one who hired him. It was my call.” None of this is Gabriel’s responsibility.
I stand just inside the doorway and survey the space, tension pulling me taut as a piano wire. The smell in here tickles my senses. It’s unique. Ionized air, stainless steel, plastic, the sweet undertone of resin, a hint of the sharp sting of isopropyl alcohol and acetone, a mild rubbery odor that feels oddly comforting to me. The very human scent of someone’s stale coffee.
“Does that expression mean nothing rings a bell or are you remembering?” he asks quietly.
I turn in a semicircle. “Nothing new about that night or anything sinister leading up to it.”
“You should put your lab coat and safety goggles on. To get the whole sensory experience.” Gabriel wiggles his eyebrows and leers at me.
I smirk. “You just want to make a joke about role-play.”
“Putting on a nurse costume and offering a prostate exam with a blow job is role-play. Dressing in your own lab coat as a sexy scientist”—he indicates one of the recently installed security cameras—“is reality television.”
Standing near the doorway, Dave pretends he didn’t hear a thing.
I trail my fingers across the stainless-steel countertop. “It would’ve been more likely to trigger my memories if I’d worn one, considering the way this place doesn’t look the same. The more sensory details I can access, the better. I should’ve planned ahead better.”
