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"Nothing. Oh, Emily says you're welcome to stay as long as you need."
"Thanks. I appreciate it." Emily was Scott's wife. "But I don't feel like that's what you actually want to say. You were giving me a weird look. And you looked at me like that in the car, too. What is it?"
"I was just thinking about how you talked about this woman, the one in the other car."
His words were like a gut punch. With the shower and the food, I'd briefly managed not to think about her. I guess my expression gave me away, because Scott nodded.
"Yeah, see. Look at the way you're looking at me. Like I kicked your puppy and stole your candy."
"Aren't you the one who was just saying I was probably emotionally traumatized? Now you think it's weird that I'm upset?"
"No, of course it's not weird that you're upset. It's just strange that you seem the most upset about this woman. More upset than about Michelle, who you've dated for almost four years. More upset than about your car, which I do believe you love more than you ever loved Michelle. What is it about this woman?"
A vision of her lying far-too-still in her hospital bed last night popped up in my mind.
"It's nothing. I caused the accident, that's all. It was my fault. I feel guilty."
"Yeah," Scott agreed, but he didn't seem convinced. "It's just, I've known you when you're guilty. And this feels different. Is there something you're not telling me?"
I looked at him and thought about those moments I'd had, where it seemed like I ought to remember something, but I couldn't figure out what I was supposed to be remembering. Was there a way to tell him about that without sounding crazy? I finally settled on, "I don't know. I had a strange sense that I knew her."
Scott raised an eyebrow.
"Knew her how?"
I gave him a frustrated look.
"If I knew how, wouldn't I have mentioned that?"
Scott gave me a long look. He took a bite of steak and thought for a while. Then he swallowed and said, "It's bugging you."
"Yeah, I guess it is," I admitted.
"So, did you ask her? Maybe she remembers how you met."
"She doesn't seem to like me very much."
Scott tilted his head and leaned forward.
"Oh, interesting. Do you like this woman?"
"Of course not!" I spluttered.
"Mmhmmm." He sat back and didn't say anything for a while. I thought we'd dropped the subject, but then he suddenly said, "What about a P.I.?"
"For what?" I asked.
"To see if you know this woman."
"Isn't that kind of overkill?"
Scott shrugged. "You're the one that wants to know. How badly do you want to know?"
How badly did I want to know? I thought about the woman. I was struggling to remember her face. I'd spent the whole night in her hospital room, watching over her as she slept, but I hadn't really been able to bring myself to look at her. And yet, despite barely knowing what she looked like and knowing literally nothing else about her, I felt connected to her in a way I struggled to explain. Scott's theory that I was into her crossed my mind and I pushed it away. I was not going to fall for the victim of a car crash less than a day after I found my girlfriend in bed with another man. This wasn't a soap opera.
But maybe figuring out why I was so drawn to this woman was the best way to get her off my mind for good.
"I'll think about it," I said aloud. Scott grinned.
