What a day...

There have been quite  few upheavals in my life lately, not least of which is my working life. I'm sure everyone has experienced a difficult work environment. We have all felt like square pegs in a round hole at one time or another. I was only thinking this today, and really I think 'square peg' is a misnomer. Square peg denotes a certain inflexibility, perhaps even an aura of boring. Generally, square pegs are not inflexible, and definitely not boring. Square pegs have their own minds and usually a pretty strong belief in themselves. Square pegs tend to be highly individualistic and have a desire to stay true to who they are. Square pegs are different - at least from the perspective of the round hole they are not fitting into. Square pegs should be glittery stars!

I am surely a glittery star as far as my current work goes, so much so that this glittery star has had enough and was going to quit today. The security of a guaranteed income really can become secondary to being able to sleep at night. Happily for me the daunting experience of quitting was taken out of my hands. Obviously my boss has no fondness for glittery stars (!) and today, on a day off work for me, came around to my house while I was away and slipped a letter of dismissal into my letterbox.

Sure, I should be rather annoyed at such an underhand way of dismissing me - but in fact I am relieved and feel like a huge burden has been taken off my shoulders (I have never been fired before, I would not have imagined this to be my reaction). Tonight, I am sure I will sleep well :) The problem was not ever my lack of intelligence, but rather the lack of training - not everybody can teach. So I have mentally thanked my boss for solving my problem for me and resolved to give the whole situation no more thought.

We must all remember that old sayings and proverbs have remained in the collective memory because they carry truth within them. The saying that I think applies to me right now is this one: When one door closes, another opens. The trick is to focus on the door that is opening, the closed one is done and finished with.

For me, that means that I now have time to focus on getting this book published, and on writing the others that fill my head. I don't know how it is for other writers, but for me, given a tiny glimmer of encouragement, the people who live inside my head become very insistent that I tell their stories.

I do need to find alternative employment of course. I am not a person with sponsors forming an orderly line at my front door, I need to work to pay the bills. But I have learned that I feel most fulfilled when I have time to write, so that means I will be looking for part time or casual work. And until I find work, I can focus entirely on this book and on starting the next one.

Today I thought I had the book completely ready to send off to be formatted - then I discovered a thing called an ISBN. This is the International Standard Book Number. Every published book needs one as an identifier. I have just secured one and I can tell you it makes me feel very professional!

So now the book is ready to be sent off for formatting, and once it is done I can upload it and I will then be a published author. Very exciting!

At this point, in case you enjoyed the first chapter, I will attach the second for your entertainment.

Chapter 2

Alicia took one more look at herself, admiring the light of battle gleaming out of her eyes, making them even deeper and more striking. A random thought drifted out of the grey mist, it’s nice to be able to admire myself and not feel guilty. Uncertain of how to interpret it she dismissed it and focused on the wardrobe. The first step in this battle was to be dressed for it. She felt inadequate clad only in a nightdress.

She slid open a wardrobe door and peeped in. Goodness, it was a walk in wardrobe. How had she missed that when Andrew got his clothes before? Staring too hard at his cute backside, she supposed. She had opened one of the doors at the opposite end to where Andrew had gone earlier, and her guess had been correct. Facing her were rows of women’s clothes. No, her own clothes, she corrected herself irritably. She was not surprised to note that they were all perfectly organized.

To one side were shelves filled with neatly folded casual clothes – denim shorts, cargo pants, t-shirts and the like. Hanging up next to the shelves were casual skirts and shirts, plus a few dresses. On the other side were racks of hangers filled with more formal clothes such as tailored suits and even a few evening gowns. There was a section of shelving devoted to shoes, sitting paired up neatly in rows and organized by style. She noted that there were a lot of high heeled shoes, as well as more casual sandals and trainers, but not a single pair of thongs were visible.

She turned around in bemusement; she had no idea what was appropriate wear for today. Was she working, at home in casual wear, or did she even have going shopping clothes? She noticed a row of drawers next to the shoe shelves. Underwear, she guessed correctly. Drawers of underwear, also neatly organized into colours and styles. In the top two drawers were underpants and bras in neutral colours and comfortable styles. The next two drawers contained dressier styles, bolder colours and lace embellishments. The second drawer from the bottom held pantyhose in beige tones and in the bottom drawer were stockings and pantyhose in black and lace.

Alicia was astounded. Was she really this woman? She didn’t feel like an ultra-organized person. She felt in chaos, her mind was spinning and she felt lost. Did this person really dress in casual underwear and matching casual outerwear? Maybe she wore the racy underwear underneath the casual clothes as her own personal secret. Alicia hoped so, she was beginning to feel some disdain towards this rather obsessive woman that apparently was her.

Turning back towards the shelves of folded clothes she selected a pair of denim shorts and a t-shirt. From the underwear section she chose the plainest bra and pants, decided on trainers and then looked around for socks. Where would an obsessive person store socks? Alicia looked more closely at the rows of shoes. There was a narrow drawer underneath the shelf that held the trainers. Sliding it out Alicia saw it contained socks, also neatly ordered and arranged in sections – white and coloured. She took out a pair at random and then went back into the ensuite to dress.

She would have liked to have taken a shower, but not sure of when Andrew would be back and unwilling for him to see her naked, she closed the door and instead hurriedly dressed in what felt like borrowed clothes. She found all the toiletries she needed on the vanity, including what she hoped was her toothbrush. A quick search yielded a selection of hair ties in the top drawer of the vanity and she secured her hair in a loose plait. Ready to face whatever came next she opened the door and came back into the bedroom.

She was feeling very let down, because she had been so hopeful that seeing herself and her clothes would restore her memory. Instead, here she was dressed in clothes that she didn’t recognize, seeing reflected in every mirror a person whom she didn’t know, and now she was beginning to feel that she didn’t even really want to know who she was.

She poked through the jewellery in the cases on the dresser. It was all beautiful, but she didn’t put any on – it felt too much like she was borrowing someone else’s things without permission. Noticing the unmade bed she straightened the covers and fluffed up the pillows. Her nightgown was still on the floor in the ensuite. Feeling like an untidy guest she picked it up and hesitated, not knowing where it should go. There didn’t seem to be anywhere in the room for it to hang so she folded it up and slipped it under the pillow.

Now what? Alicia didn’t know what else to do. She guessed that there would be more clues to her identity in the drawers of the dresser, but she already felt like a guest spying on her hosts. In any case nothing seemed to be going to work. The panic patrolling the edges of her consciousness made itself known again, and again she pushed it away.

Feeling a bit like a prisoner Alicia looked uncertainly at the curtained windows. There were two windows in the bedroom and what looked to be a door also. She chose the window closest to her and slid open the curtains. The view outside the window rang no bells, but was pretty nonetheless. She saw that the house was two storeys and the bedroom was on the upper level. The window looked down onto a garden that was of course immaculate. She could see flower beds and shrubs, and beyond the garden other houses that looked big and prosperous.

Moving to the next window she opened the curtains and looked out. Much the same view, but she could also see enough of the road at the front to be certain that they were in a leafy residential suburb. Where did she live? Her mind was still keeping that a secret. She could be in Brisbane, Cairns or Rockhampton. At least she knew she was Australian, and even that she lived in Queensland, she thought.

She carried on to the curtained door set next to the ensuite. Sliding those curtains back she saw a pair of French doors that opened out onto a large balcony. Feeling a sudden desire for fresh air Alicia unlatched the doors and pushed them open. Warm summer air rushed into the room and she breathed in the mingled scent of flowers and salt.

Walking out onto the balcony Alicia experienced a lifting of her spirits as she took in the view of the back garden and beyond, seeing for the first time that the ocean was not far away. There were more garden beds and shrubs, and a large pool was visible at the bottom of some stone steps. Peering over the side Alicia saw that there was an entertainment area underneath the balcony. A small table and two cane chairs were arranged at one end of the balcony, and she sank down into one of the chairs with a strong feeling of déjà vu.

At last, there was a feeling of familiarity to something. She guessed that here was a place she came to often, perhaps to read or to be by herself. She leaned back in the chair and tried to call up a memory, any memory. Nothing happened and with a sigh she stared out over the rail towards the sea. She could see a couple of islands in the distance and wondered idly what they were.

A feeling of peace stole over her, and even with the dramatic loss of herself, she felt her body begin to relax. She sighed, and settled more comfortably in the chair. She could feel the taut nerves relax, tight muscles loosen, and something that had been clenched in the depths of her stomach released its grip. She realized that she was hungry.

She sat for a while and considered her options, which didn’t take long as they were few. She could stay here until Andrew returned, and hope that the peace would restore her memory. That didn’t seem likely but it was the easiest option. Her only other option that she could see was to venture beyond the room and find the kitchen. That was the most sensible thing to do, considering that she felt like she hadn’t eaten in a long time. It was, however, a seriously daunting proposition.

The thought of opening the bedroom door and venturing beyond the boundaries of her tiny known world to whatever lay beyond was frightening enough to make her muscles tighten up again. She realized that it was adrenalin flooding her system, and supposed that she had released quite a bit of it already this morning. That was probably why she was so hungry, she thought absently, her head swivelling so that she was looking back into the bedroom.

She checked the time again, and saw that it was almost 9am. Still half an hour or so until Andrew returned. She didn’t want to wait any longer, so she pushed herself out of the chair and strode purposefully through the bedroom.

Hesitating with her hand on the door knob, Alicia forced herself to open the door. It opened easily, and she peeked around it half fearfully. Beyond the bedroom she saw a long hallway with several closed doors just beckoning to be opened and explored. Coming fully out of the room she felt disoriented, and stared back at the bedroom.

Closing her eyes briefly she rationalised that she was at one end of the house, and that meant the most of the doors she was seeing were likely to be bedrooms. Grabbing her courage in both hands she opened the first door on her left, and was faced with a large storage cupboard. Inside were rows of deep shelves, full of boxes each bearing a label. She glanced at the nearest one. It was a blue plastic box and the label read ‘light bulbs’. On top of it was a similar box, only it was red and its label said ‘hole punch, leather care and shoe care’.

Closing the door she moved on. Opening the next door on the left she saw a neatly organized linen closet. Opposite that was a bathroom, with the door left ajar. She peeped in and was encouraged to see that this room was in a state of dishabille. It felt reassuring to know that the whole house was not perfect. There was a towel on the floor, an empty toothpaste box on the vanity and various toothbrushes spread over the surface. It looked like this was the children’s bathroom and they were in a rush this morning. Stifling an urge to tidy up, and not sure if it was a natural urge or a polite guest urge, she moved onto the next room, which was next door to the bathroom.

The door to this room was also left ajar, and peeping in she gasped as she beheld total chaos. This room obviously belonged to the youngest, Michael. The bed was unmade, and toy cars were scattered all over the floor. Piles of other toys were shoved in corners and a pair of pyjamas lay on the floor in front of the bed, along with a discarded school shirt. Was this the normal state of this room, or was it the end result of an active boy filling in time until his parents got up? She had no idea, and she had no inclination to tidy up this mess right now.

Closing the door she continued exploring the upper storey of the house. The rest of the rooms on the right were more bedrooms. The one next to Michaels must be Sarah’s judging by the plethora of pink and yellow. The bed was yellow, the covers pink. The other furniture was also yellow, with pink curtains and thankfully white walls. Alicia was surprised by the abundance of colour – it gave the impression of an exuberant personality which she did not associate with what she had learned of herself so far.

Her daughter was also a pretty tidy child, with the bed made in a rudimentary fashion and pyjamas lying carelessly on the covers. Papers and colouring pencils lay in cheerful profusion on a desk in one corner, and a bookcase next to it was stuffed with books. The wardrobe was closed and the small dressing table held little more than a brush and some hair ties.

Unsure of what to make of it all Alicia closed the door and continued on. The next door opened onto what had to be the guest bedroom, as it was immaculate and showed no sign of occupation. Opposite it was the last bedroom on this level, Josh’s. This room was giving nothing away. It was tidy, the bed made and nothing on the desk to give any sort of clue to his personality. This room also held a bookcase full of books. There was a wardrobe, and a dresser. She stared into the room for several long seconds, but did not enter. It felt like a violation of his privacy, and try as she did she could feel no connection to any of these children.

Softly closing the door she moved down the hallway in a sober mood. How was she to interact with this family when she felt no attachment, no familiarity, nothing more than curiosity? The last door was back one from Josh’s, and when she opened it she saw that it was a rumpus room. There was a large lounge suite, various game consoles, even a pool table. It appeared that the children were well provided for, she thought.

The staircase was around a corner in this room, she realized that it ran down the back of the two storage closets. She hesitated briefly before beginning the descent to ground level. There were photos hanging on the wall at intervals on the way down, and she gazed at them curiously. She supposed they were documentation of her life, yet nothing sparked any sort of recognition.

It was bizarre and frightening to be looking at snapshots of her life and not remember any of them. There was a wedding photo in which she recognized only herself and Andrew. She supposed the two older couples in the photo were their respective parents but she couldn’t even begin to guess who belonged to whom. Further down the stairs her eyes collided with a large studio portrait which was clearly a family shot. She wondered absently how recent it was, as her gaze took in her children.

There were Josh, Sarah and Michael, smiling happily into the camera as she and Andrew stood proudly at the back of the shot. She studied it a little desperately. Josh looked a lot like Andrew, dark chocolate eyes gazing seriously out of the photo, tousled dark hair just a little too long. He had his arm around Sarah. Her daughter had her blue eyes Alicia thought, but with mischief shining out of them like a beacon. She had long white-blonde hair and Alicia wondered how two dark haired parents could produce a blonde haired child.

Michael stood in the front with Josh’s hand resting on his shoulder, a devil in shorts and t-shirt she thought. His eyes were a light brown, almost the colour of honey and his hair was golden brown rather than dark. He wore an angelic expression, but she could see the mischief lurking in the back of those innocent eyes.

Alicia stared intently at the tableau, willing herself to remember, but there was not a flicker. While she admired her children, she felt no maternal pull towards them. In despair she jerked her eyes away from the photo and descended the rest of the stairs, resolutely not looking at any more pictures. It was just too painful to see what she had lost. She could not bear the thought of never regaining her memory, of never being a proper part of this family again. She shuddered and pushed away the thought of being isolated within her fractured mind for the rest of her life.

Blinking eyes that had blurred with unshed tears, she reached the bottom of the stairs and stood irresolutely in the foyer. The stairs ended across the foyer from the front door, she saw. There was a doorway on either wall but from where she stood she couldn’t see what lay through them. The smell of toast and coffee lingering on the air directed her to the door nearest the staircase, and sure enough, through it lay the kitchen.

With hope once again rising she stepped through the doorway into what must surely be her territory. The sense of smell was a powerful trigger she knew, so maybe that coupled with what she had seen would throw her internal switch from ‘off’ to ‘on’. The room she saw was large and inviting, the walls a cheerful lemon colour, the fittings and fixtures gleaming. She ran a finger along one long bench top – pale granite, cool and smooth to the touch. She looked at the stove and cooktop, tried to imagine herself here cooking the evening meal. She opened the huge fridge and peeped in at the contents. She cast a quick gaze over the table, still littered with cereal bowls and boxes. A coffee mug stood near the sink, still half full. Clearly the family had needed to hurry to get away on time.

Picking up the mug she stuck her nose in and inhaled deeply. Fragrant coffee fumes filled her lungs and made her feel dizzy. It served to remind her that she was hungry, but did nothing to jog her memory. Dejected, she located the jug easily enough and turned it on. A search of the pantry and cupboards eventually yielded bread for toast, and several boxes of teabags. Tea was what she wanted, but she didn’t know if that was what she drank. She just knew that she needed the comfort of a steaming cup of tea.

The toaster was on the bench, still slightly warm, so she put some bread in and pushed down the lever. A quick rummage through the fridge failed to locate any butter, and then she saw it still on the table. There was honey there too, and she took it back to the bench with the butter. The small rituals of buttering toast and making tea helped to soothe nerves made ragged by the events of the morning. She was relieved to note that she did not have to think about how she took her tea. Evidently that was one of the small remnants of her previous life.

She had finished the toast and was sitting drinking the last of her tea when she heard the front door open. Realising (hoping) that it was Andrew she froze with her hands wrapped around the mug, staring at the doorway. She had no idea what she was going to say to this man who was both her husband and a total stranger. How was he going to react when she told him that she couldn’t remember anything?

Andrew came into the kitchen while she was still trying to formulate an explanation and stood staring at her in apparent shock. She stared back, perplexed. She didn’t know what she had done that would make him look like that. Was it the wrong clothes for today, or did she not usually eat breakfast, or maybe she hated tea? She tried a smile, but it went all wobbly on her face.

He dropped the keys he was carrying onto the bench and rushed to her side. Wrapping his arms around her he stroked the back of her head soothingly. Alicia rested her head on his shoulder with a little sigh, and gave herself up to the rather pleasant sensation of being coddled.

All too soon he held her shoulders back and gazed searchingly into her eyes. Tentatively he asked, “Are you feeling better?”

Not knowing how to answer, Alicia shook her head slightly.

“Well I rang the doctor as soon as they opened and made an appointment for you. Do you think you should go?”

Should she go to see the doctor? She had to do something, so maybe this was the place to start. She nodded her head, then thought to ask, “What time is my appointment?”

“11.30. You’ve still got an hour or so before we have to leave. Can I get you anything? Do you need some painkillers or…” Andrew paused, gesturing helplessly. “Alicia,” he continued carefully, “What is wrong with you? Do you feel sick, or dizzy, or what? I can see you’re not yourself, you haven’t cleaned the kitchen or put your make-up on so you must be feeling pretty dreadful.”

Alicia filed that titbit of information away. Apparently she was big on tidiness, and she wore make-up even in casual clothes. Right now she just didn’t have the energy to put on make-up and besides which she had no idea how she liked to wear it. Cleaning anything was going to take time since she would have to search for everything she needed. Having observed the contents of the cupboards, fridge and pantry, though, she figured that it would not take long to find things, organized as she was – or used to be.

She stared at Andrew who was looking at her with an expression somewhere between concern and exasperation. Deciding that the only way to tell him what had happened was to start at the beginning she did just that. To his credit he listened to her without interruption as she recounted everything that had happened to her since she woke this morning. She could see that he was struggling to believe her, but she slogged on regardless.

“And now here I am in a kitchen I don’t recognize, wearing clothes I don’t recognize, talking to my husband that I don’t...” Stopping abruptly she stared at him wide-eyed.

Andrew stared back and slowly filled in, “recognize. You don’t know me, do you?”

“No,” she replied in a voice little more than a whisper. “I don’t know myself either. I don’t know what I do all day, what I wear, how I behave, where the children go to school. I don’t even know the children,” she finished softly. “What am I going to do?”

Andrew gazed at her, his eyes full of purpose and determination. “Not you, us. What are we going to do? I married you for better or worse. We’ll find out what has caused this, and we’ll fix it. You’re not alone, you have me and the children. They may find it a little difficult to understand, but I’m sure this is only a temporary thing. You were fine yesterday and last night. This can’t be anything serious. We’ll go see the doctor and he can tell us what to do. You’ll see Alicia, everything will work out just fine.” Straightening, he took the seat next to her. “Remember, it’s us against the world darlin’, and together we can face anything.”