The Life Lucy Knew by Karma Brown

Author:Karma Brown [Brown, Karma]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers
Published: 2018-06-15T04:00:00+00:00

24

“Have you seen your mother today?” Dad asked. It was shortly after noon on Friday, and I was getting ready to see Dr. Kay. We were down to once-a-week appointments—to better accommodate my upcoming back-to-work schedule. I was still floating high after my date night with Matt and I couldn’t wait to tell her about my memory breakthrough.

I threw my notebook and a pen into my purse, tucking my phone between my shoulder and cheek to not drop it. “I haven’t,” I replied, and Dad sighed. I stood up straight, held the phone tighter to my ear. “Why? Was I supposed to?” For a brief moment I wondered if I’d forgotten I had plans with my mom.

“No. I don’t think so,” Dad said. “I’m sure she’s out with a friend or at the market. I only got home an hour ago myself.”

“Okay,” I replied. “So why do you sound worried about where she is, then?”

“Oh, do I? Well, sorry about that, pumpkin. It’s fine. We have an appointment with the Realtor in five minutes and she’s not here and you know your mom. She’s never late for anything.”

That was true. And five minutes early was actually late to my mom—in fact, anything less than fifteen minutes early meant you were already behind schedule. It was one of my mother’s idiosyncrasies I’d long ago given up trying to understand or rationalize.

“Did you try her cell?” I asked, glancing at the time. I had to be out the door in two minutes.

“Yes...yes. It went to voice mail.” He sounded distracted, and I could hear him unloading the dishwasher.

I continued walking through the apartment and tossing things into my purse—a granola bar and bottle of water, a small pack of tissues in preparation for the inevitable tears that came with a Dr. Kay appointment, despite my best intentions to hold it together. “Speaking of the Realtor, where are things at with that?” I hoped they wouldn’t sell the house. I had a lot of memories there—great ones—and for whatever reason it felt like if they sold our house they were selling those, too, right out from under me.

“Just a meeting. Oh, there’s the doorbell. I’d better go. Let me know if you hear from your mom, okay? Though I’m sure she’ll be home any minute. Any minute. Maybe that’s her now.”

“I will,” I said, and was about to comment Mom probably wouldn’t be ringing the doorbell to her own house when I realized Dad had already hung up. Staring at my phone for a moment, I wondered if he was okay. He sounded so scattered, which was unlike him. My dad was the most even-keeled of all of us. But I knew they’d had a lot on their plates since my accident—because of my accident. And with my mom pushing for a possible move to her dream town house with the “gorgeous north-facing morning sun, perfect for painting,” he was likely feeling pressure to make that happen, too.

I slung my now-heavy purse

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