I found this story when I was going through some old files on my laptop. I wrote this in 2009. It was going to be a story about a guy who lost his memory and spent the rest of the story tracing clues he had left for himself, trying to figure out what had happened. Obviously, I never finished it. I thought I’d post it here anyway, since I liked what I read.
Chapter 1
Chat log 10/09/09
Goat: Ahoy
Ham: hey
Goat: You remember what i did yesterday?
Goat: Because I don’t.
Ham: yeah, me either. total waste of time. I don’t even remember what I was doing at work.
Goat: No, you don’t understand.
Goat: I mean–I don’t remember yesterday.
Goat: At all.
Ham: WTF. are you serious?
Goat: Yeah.
Goat: I fell asleep reading on Wednesday and I woke up Friday morning.
Ham: no you didn’t.
Ham: you IMed me. I have the logs. hang on, lemme find them
Goat: Don’t bother. I have them too.
Goat: I was just reading them. Apparently you were fighting with the girlfriend again?
Ham: yeah.
Ham: find anything else? did you send any email, texts, update your profile…?
Goat: Hadn’t looked yet. checking
Goat has gone away
Goat came back
Goat: Yeah. three calls yesterday. One to my sister, one from my mom that I didn’t answer, and one call to Melissa.
Ham: whose melissa?
Goat: I have no idea. It’s a local number.
Ham: call her
Goat: And say what?
Goat: “Hi, I don’t know who you are, but apparently we talked for 14 minutes yesterday at 2:44pm. Any idea what that was about?”
Ham: good point
Ham: did you go to your martial arts school?
Ham: maybe you got kicked in the head or something.
Goat: I doubt it. I don’t have any lumps or bruises.
Goat: I’m gonna check the mileage on my car.
Ham: you keep track of it that closely? that’s pretty OCD, man.
Goat has gone away
Goat came back
Goat: No
Goat: I always reset my trip counter when I fill up to keep track of mpg.
Goat: I’d just filled up on Thursday and drove home. there should have been about 10 miles on that tank
Goat: I drove almost *300 miles yesterday*
Ham: holy shit
Goat: I know.
Ham: anything else? text messages? email sent or received?
Ham: looks like you didn’t update your facebook status
Goat: looking
Goat: email–couple job applications sent, some netflix receiving and shipping stuff
Goat: TON of text messages
Ham: anytihng good?
Goat: Bunch of stuff from Melissa.
Goat: Apparently we set up a lunch date for today…
Goat: Fuck. 10 minutes from now. I guess I’d better get ready.
Ham: your going? are you stupid?
Ham: you don’t even know who she is!
Ham: she might be the reason you can’t remember anything.
Ham: you should call a doctor.
Ham: or the cops.
Goat: or maybe she can tell me wtf I did yesterday.
Ham: or maybe she’s the queen mother
Ham: don’t be an idiot
Goat: later
Ham: goddammit
Ham is typing…
Goat has disconnected
Chapter 2
Peter arrived at the agreed-upon meeting place fifteen minutes late. His text messages had included only an address, and he was surprised when he arrived at an upscale downtown restaurant. Once inside, he belatedly realized he had no way of recognizing Melissa. As it turned out, this wasn’t a problem.
“Peter!” A slender, well-dressed woman sat waving and smiling at him from a booth near the bar. Peter guessed she was in her mid-sixties, and noticed as he drew closer that she wasn’t just well-dressed–she was well-preserved and well-to-do as well. Had she decided to color her hair instead of leaving its natural silver, she could easily pass for forty-five. Her designer purse and top of the line Blackberry made it clear that this was a woman of means.
“So good to see you again.” She gestured at the open booth seat. “Please, sit down. We have much to discuss.” Peter sat down and flipped over his coffee cup. Before he’d finished removing his jacket, a waiter had filled it and disappeared.
“I apologize for being late.” Peter began. “I was…”
“No need to apologize.” Melissa interrupted. Peter sipped his coffee, grimaced, and promptly added cream and three sugar packets. Melissa laughed and sipped her own cup of tea. “With these prices, you’d think they could at least make a decent cup of coffee. Those dark roast blends are so trendy and popular, but I’ll take a nice cup of Chamomile any day.” She set down her cup and steepled her fingers, looking over them at Peter. Her demeanor became businesslike, exuding a comfortable authority. Peter realized this was a woman used to being in charge.
“How was your trip?” She inquired politely. “Productive, I trust?” Her voice betrayed the barest hint of emotion. Which one, Peter couldn’t tell. Impatience, maybe? Or was it fear?
“I really have no idea.”
“I beg your pardon?” Melissa’s eyebrows shot up, questioning.
“I can’t remember.” Peter shrugged. “I don’t remember yesterday. Any of it. As far as I know, I feel asleep Wednesday night and woke up Friday morning. I came here because I was hoping you’d be able to tell me what happened.”
“I see.” The warmth had drained from her voice, and she regarded him with a coldness that Peter found unnerving. She glanced down at her Blackberry, which hadn’t beeped or vibrated since he sat down. She made a pretext of reading the screen. “I’m afraid I’ve been called back to the office. We will have to discuss this later, Mr. Kelly. I will contact you.”
Melissa snatched a fifty dollar bill from her purse and dropped it on the table as she rose. Too surprised to remember his manners and stand, Peter simply gaped at her as she turned and left without another word.
Chapter 3:
Next: Peter finds the camera with the trail of photos, and his brother calls him to find out what happened to his meds.
