Page 102 of You Again

“She is,” she says, starting her pacing back up again. “I seem to know certain things, Zev. And I’m not even sure how I know them. Like, I know what a Lexile score is.”

“I’ve heard of that.”

“I had, too. But I know all about it. I know what score is appropriate for which age. I can even tell you that Anne of Green Gables has a nine hundred Lexile score. How do I know that?”

I scoot to the edge of my seat, watching her pace. We aren’t getting comfortable tonight, that’s for sure. “They said you’d remember things you’d been taught, skills that you’ve learned, that kind of thing.”

She stops, her eyes cast down. “I remember what a Lexile score is. But I don’t remember you?”

I stand, facing her, and shove my hands into my pockets. “No. You don’t.”

She stares at me for a minute. “When I borrowed your car and came back into your apartment, you were crying⁠—”

“Over you.” I breathe out the words and dip my head. “Yeah.”

Her fingers grapple at her neck. “Over me,” she says, her exhale trembling. Then, clearing her throat, she beelines for the door. “Thank you for answering my questions.” She opens the door but pauses before walking through. She peers back at me, her eyes glassy. “And Zev, I’m so sorry that I’ve caused you pain.”

Forty-Three

I stare down at another text I haven’t responded to. What do I say though? How do I answer?

Zev: It isn’t your fault.

Zev: I should have said that before.

Zev: When you apologized for my pain. That isn’t your fault.

Zev: We’ve both had our burdens to bear. Yours are worse. I know that.

I want to tell him it isn’t a competition. I want to tell him I’m still sorry. I want him to understand that I don’t want to be the cause of anyone’s pain—purposefully or not.

But I type nothing.

“You keep looking at that phone like it might come to life and bite you,” Grammy says. She tilts her head. “Or maybe like it might kiss you.”

I shove the device between my thighs until it presses into the couch I sit on. “No, I’m not.”

“You’ve never been a very good liar, Rosalie. It’s your grandfather in you. So much goodness.” Grammy struts over and sits next to me, her side flush to mine. “Is it Zevulun?”

I gulp. “I’ve caused him a lot of pain.”

“Pish posh,” Grammy says, simply waving away my guilt, as if it were that easy. “The situation has caused him pain. Not you.”

“It’s caused everyone pain.” I shake my head, feeling guilt for something so wholly out of my control.

Grammy nods. “It has. But I’d wager it’s caused Zev the most.”

I scoff—I can’t help it. I’m the one with a broken brain.

“And you, of course,” she says. “But while you’ve been left in the dark, he’s been left alone.”

I sigh. “I don’t know how to fix that, Grammy. I can’t snap my fingers and remember. Believe me, I would if I could. I’d do anything to remember.”

She loops her arm through mine. “Dearest,” she says, her tone motherly and patient. “Before you found out that he knew you previous to your memory loss, how were you feeling about him?”

I squirm a little in my seat, the corner of my cell digging into my thigh. “Well, I liked him. But how can I be sure that I really liked him, or did I like the persona he was putting on for me? Did he read a romance book because he likes romance or just to have something to talk to me about? I’m unsure about everything now.”

“Zevulun quite enjoys romance. He and I had a private little book club, just the two of us for a time.”