Discovering Licapta

2 (pt. i)

TO BE HONEST, I don't know with certainty that the Adam Barkley I've been stalking on the internet for the past year is the same Adam Barkley I dated. I found three Adam Barkley's on social media, but only one has a public profile.

When questioned by police after my accident, Adam informed the authorities we'd broken up only a couple weeks before I lost my memory. I was on my way back to our shared apartment, supposedly to collect my stuff, when a car hung a sharp turn and hit me as I was crossing the street.

My phone was completely crushed in the chaos, but Adam recognized my identity when he saw my picture on television. He and a potential employer I'd met with just days before were the only people in Seattle who did.

Other than Adam, investigators were able to get in touch with some colleagues from my previous work, who were able to confirm my identity and answer some general questions about me. But none of them knew as much let alone more than Adam. According to him, we'd moved across the country from Billings, Montana just over one month earlier, and I'd been content with that decision, eager to escape the city where I'd had no close friends or relatives save for my parents, who'd passed away when I was eighteen. According to Adam, I'd called the move a clean break.

But just weeks after moving in together, we got into a bad fight and decided it was best to end things between us. While I searched around for my own place, Adam let me live in the apartment. He was staying over at a friend's house when I'd been hit.

Because of my situation, I qualified for government funding, which, in combination with my savings, was just enough to continue renting out the flat I'd been renting prior to my accident. While I was curious to learn about my life, the doctors encouraged me to stay in Seattle because of the greater financial support the city offered. I had nobody back home in Billings, and recovery was my top priority.

I don't know what compels me to keep tabs on Adam's page like I'm doing now in Émile's car while I wait for him to finish pumping gas. It's comforting to imagine that this Adam is the same Adam I once knew. I could always shoot him a message, but that seems just a tad too creepy. So I stick to monitoring his profile. I keep hoping that maybe one day something will pop up on his feed, clues about my past. Even if nothing does and Adam Barkley turns out to be a complete stranger to me, at least I feel like I'm doing something.

The sound of someone tapping on the passenger window startles me, and I jump. Turning around, I find Émile crouched over, peering through the glass. I quickly close the app on my phone and roll down the window.

"Do you want anything from inside?" he asks.

My gaze wanders past Émile and toward the tiny shack where they sell miscellaneous items and food. After the adventure I've had, you'd think I'd be hungry. I probably should say yes because I have no idea when we'll stop next. I also really don't want this guy paying for me. I could hand him some of the small savings in my bag, but I should really save it for when I'm actually hungry.

Émile must sense my dilemma because he says, "I'm buying a coffee. Do you want one too?"

"No. Thank you."

"Food?"

I shake my head.

"Okay," he states before starting across the pavement toward the run-down building.

The moment he's gone, I open up the app again and continue scrolling through Adam's feed. I don't find anything interesting, mainly just congratulatory posts from his friends and family.