The Missing Wife. Sam Carrington
lost track of you last night—’
‘What do you mean, you lost track of me? Didn’t we just get back here together?’
‘You don’t remember?’
Louisa’s initial worry-knot grew in size and intensity, the sensation increasing the sick feeling. No, she didn’t remember.
‘I’d had a lot to drink … I think I have you to thank for that.’
‘Sorry, you know what I get like after I’ve had one too many – I’m pushy.’ Tiff smiled apologetically and sat down on the bed beside Louisa.
For most people, having a lapse in memory after a heavy drinking session was funny – an expected side effect that gave rise to mickey-taking from others who had witnessed the drunken antics. But for Louisa, any gaps in memory only added to the dread that it was happening again. A period of her life during her last year of college was a complete blur to her – not just a day or two, but a huge chunk. For a long time afterwards, Louisa had experienced regular panic attacks, often for no apparent reason. The distress of why she couldn’t remember often overwhelmed her.
Her mum had pushed for her to see a doctor, saying it wasn’t right for a healthy teenager to have such debilitating attacks of anxiety. Louisa had only agreed on the premise that she could go on her own – not wanting her mother to know what might be causing them. Deep down she’d known that something bad had happened to cause them; there’d been a trigger – but she’d pushed it to the back of her mind until her mum had forced the situation.
The doctor had said stress was a factor for the panic attacks, but in relation to the missing chunks of memory, he’d mentioned something called dissociative amnesia. This in itself had caused more stress than if she’d not gone to the doctor at all. He’d talked about how someone could block out certain information because they’d suffered a traumatic event. Louisa had obsessed about this, gaining as much information about it as she could through library books and journals at the time, then looking up everything about it online years later. The memory loss associated with the disorder included gaps in memory for long periods of time, or of any memories that involved the traumatic event.
What that event might have been had plagued her. But the more she’d tried to remember, the worse it got. She’d continued to see a specialist for six months after she left college and, in addition to being prescribed medication, she’d learned techniques on how to manage her episodes of anxiety. The sessions had also aimed to help her recall what had triggered her attacks, but when none of the missing memories resurfaced despite the therapy, she stopped going. Once she’d met Brian she’d pushed her fears, along with the desire to find out and to recapture those memories, to the back of her mind. It was only recently, after Noah, that the old issues had come creeping back.
Louisa took a steadying breath and tried to consider it rationally. Last night she’d been really drunk – that mixed with no sleep and anxiety pills had more than likely caused her lack of recall.
But the vision of blood had come from somewhere, and the question of whether it was from the supposed traumatic experience in her past or from something that had happened last night filled Louisa with a sense of foreboding.
‘Earth to Louisa!’
Louisa started. She’d been so caught up in her thoughts she’d forgotten Tiff was even there. ‘Sorry.’ Louisa grabbed her bag from beside her on the bed and jumped up. ‘Let’s get out of here.’ She ushered Tiff out the door first, then turned and closed it behind her. The resounding click was satisfying. Louisa hoped the events of the night, whatever they were, remained locked inside that room. She just wanted to go home and forget all about it.
Tiff had booked them a taxi home – she’d quite rightly assumed she’d still be over the limit to drive. It was an uncomfortable journey and Louisa was grateful it was only a short distance. She didn’t want to puke in the taxi.
‘Are you coming in?’ Louisa asked as the driver stopped in front of her house.
‘Looking like this?’ Tiff made a circular motion around her face with her finger. ‘Er, no. I’ll ring you later.’
Louisa could’ve done with the back-up. What if she’d behaved badly last night? Brian might be mad at her. And if Tiff hadn’t ‘kept track’ of her, that must mean she hadn’t been in the main room with the others. She hesitated on the doorstep, a sense of dread debilitating any progress. Noah’s crying breached the door. One night away really hadn’t been enough. She could turn around now, leave and never return.
The naivety of her own thoughts irritated her. She couldn’t run away. Aside from not wanting to hurt her family, she didn’t even know what she’d be running from.
She pushed the front door open and walked through the hallway to find Brian pacing the lounge, Noah wailing uncontrollably in his arms.
‘Oh, good!’ he shouted above the noise. ‘I wasn’t sure what else I could do.’
The screaming was already splitting her head.
‘Has he had the whole bottle?’ She moved gingerly forwards.
‘Yes, two, actually.’
‘Oh. Well I expect it’s wind then if he’s had that much.’
‘It is two o’clock, Lou – he would’ve usually had two feeds by now, wouldn’t he?’
Yes. Of course he would’ve. Louisa had forgotten the time.
‘Pass him to me.’ Louisa took Noah from Brian and placed him over her shoulder and began jiggling him about. She looked into Brian’s eyes, trying to gauge his mood.
‘Are you still mad at me?’ he said.
‘I didn’t realise I was mad at you to start with.’ She frowned.
Brian lowered his head. ‘Tiff reckons you were just overwhelmed by it all but I saw something else in your eyes when you shouted at me – that I’d made a huge mistake throwing a party.’
Louisa swallowed hard. Another part of the night she didn’t remember. She was scared to ask what exactly he thought he’d seen in her eyes. Noah had quietened down despite his awkward position – his top half slumped over her shoulder so all she could see was his bottom and legs – and she swayed gently to keep him that way.
‘I was overwhelmed, yes. If it’d been people I knew well, I might’ve coped. But all those, well, strangers. It was a little much. Sorry if I came across as ungrateful, though. I know you and Tiff had the best intentions. And I certainly slept well.’
‘Yeah, I guess that was the goal really. That’s why I tried not to take it to heart.’
‘Take what to heart?’ The pulse in her neck was no doubt perceptible; what else had she said and done?
‘When you left early. One minute you were saying all you needed was fresh air, then you disappeared without even saying anything to the guests. Or us. Emily was pretty put out. But I explained that you were exhausted, and the party had taken it out of you. That you needed undisturbed sleep more than a surprise fortieth. Which, of course, was what Emily had said to start with. Sorry, I should’ve listened to our daughter.’
‘I’m sorry. Everyone must’ve thought me so rude.’ Her mind was dazed, confused at this new information. ‘Did you come by my room? Check up on me?’
‘No. I thought it best to leave you alone. And anyway, Oliver said he’d seen you going into the accommodation entrance, so I knew you were all right.’
‘Oliver saw