Blank Slate Kate

Chapter 8

When Jake wakes me up the next morning, I make my tired eyes focus on the alarm clock then blink up at him. "Six o'clock? Is the apartment on fire?"

He laughs. "Nope."

I pull the comforter up to my chin and shut my eyes. "Then come back in three hours. Or four."

"Can't. We're going downtown."

I force my eyes open again. "We are?"

"I think we should. I woke up a few minutes ago with the idea of watching the people at rush hour. If you are a CEO or even a big shot in some company, there's a good chance that someone in the business district will recognize you."

I grimace but have to admit, "It's a good idea."

"Then why the face?"

"I don't want to get up."

He chuckles. "I'll take you to McDonald's for breakfast after."

Jake knows what I like. We've gone there a few times and I adore their hotcakes and sausage. "Okay, fine." I sit up. "What should I wear?"

He shrugs. "Look as business-like as you can, I guess. Maybe leave your hair down? A ponytail is less CEO, I think. Anyhow, it's up to you. I'll let you take a shower and get dressed. We should leave in about thirty minutes if you can be ready by then."

I swing my pajama-clad legs out of bed and stand up. "No problem."

He heads for the door and I say, "Jake?"

He turns around.

I look at the floor, suddenly shy. "I do appreciate everything you've done for me. I just didn't think to say thank you. For buying me stuff and feeding me, and for doing research into amnesia, that was sweet, and--"

"It's okay," he says, sounding like I feel. "Don't worry about it."

But I am. I had a terrible time getting to sleep last night because I kept thinking about Hannah's words. What kind of pushy beast am I in my real life, if I never even thought to thank a guy who has literally saved me from living on the street? If I could get mad and snap at a guy who'd done so much for me? I can't tell Jake, of course, but I'm becoming less sure I want to know who I was.

"I'll make coffee," he says, and scuttles from the room before I can thank him again and embarrass us both any more. I had coffee for the first time, that I remember anyhow, a few days after meeting him, and it turns out I love it. I wonder if my other self likes it.

That thought sparks a whole bunch of others as I take a quick shower then dress myself. Physically we're the same person, of course, so wouldn't it make sense that we do like the same things? But she has tried so many things I don't remember, I assume anyhow, so maybe our tastes aren't the same as a result. Weird to think about her. Me. Her.

I tell Jake about all this while we walk to the subway station and he says, "Yeah, weird. You have the same taste buds, so I would think that if coffee tastes good to you it would to her too. But you're right that what she's done in her life could change that. Bizarre."

I nod, and he glances at me before saying, "Are you doing okay with all this?"

I tip my head from side to side. "I'm trying. I have to admit I get sad sometimes."

"That makes sense."

I nod again, but I know we're not talking about the same kind of sad. Mine feels like a big dark monster is smothering me, crushing the happiness from me. I don't remember ever feeling like that as a teenager.