Losing Me Finding You (2 page)

Eight years old

The sun shines into my room and today I turn eight years old.

My eyes snap open with an urgency I don’t understand. I sit bolt upright in bed¸ quickly scanning the room before I turn and look out the window. This doesn’t feel right. This isn’t where I fell asleep last night.

Is it?

“Evie, honey. It’s time to get up,” comes a voice I don’t recognise through the half open door.

I turn towards it, to the footsteps I now hear heading towards me, loud taps on wooden floors. A woman walks into my room, smiling at me as she goes to open the blinds, only to find they are already open. Shaking her head as if she’s confused, she turns and leans in to kiss my cheek. I don’t move. Something about this feels strange, different, but I’m not quite sure how.

“Come on, sweetie, you’ll be late for school,” she says, holding my dressing gown out to me now.

“Who are you?” The words are out of my mouth without me even realising, even though a part of me knows exactly who she is.

The woman laughs, before sitting down on the edge of the bed. She brushes the hair from my face and then takes my hand in both of hers. “Evie, what kind of question is that, sweetie. I’m your mum, who else would I be?”

I shrug, not really understanding why I even asked that question. I knew that’s what the answer would be.

“Are you feeling alright?” she asks and I can see the concern on her face as she places a hand on my forehead, checking my temperature.

Even though I’m not really sure what’s going on here, strangely enough, I’m not actually scared. Something feels like it’s missing, but at the same time, it also feels okay, like this is where I’m meant to be.

“Evie?” this woman asks.

“Yeah,” I eventually answer. “I’m okay…Mum.”

She smiles at me now before pressing a kiss to my forehead. “Well happy birthday, sweetie, are you going to come down and have breakfast? I’ve made your favourite.”

I smile at her, wondering if my favourite is what I think it is. “Sure,” I say. “I’ll be right down.”

Mum tilts her head at me, studying me as though she’s the one who’s walked into the wrong room and found the wrong daughter. “Are you sure you’re alright, Evie?”

I nod, smiling wider now as I try and convince her I am, even though I have no idea why this all feels so strange and unfamiliar. “Yep, I’m sure.”

“Okay, well happy birthday, sweetheart,” she says, standing. “Hurry downstairs, you’ve got school today.”

I nod and Mum finally leaves my bedroom. As soon as she’s gone, I leap out of bed and walk to the mirror that hangs over the dresser. As I stare at the face looking back at me, I realise I look like me. Well, how I think I look anyway.

Leaning in, I can see that my eyes seem slightly different though. Last night I’m sure they were a deep, dark brown, but today, they’re flecked with green. I like it though. The rest of me, my black hair, my freckles, my pale skin, it all looks the same. Well, when I turn around, I notice my hair seems longer, a lot longer actually, but I like that too.

“Evie, come on,” my mum calls out.

“Well, let’s go and find out what this is all about,” I say to my reflection as I pull on my dressing gown. Then I walk out of the bedroom I don’t remember and into a house I don’t know, to meet a family I don’t really recognise.

“Here she is!” a man, who I’m know must be my dad, says.

I smile at him because he looks warm and very friendly. He stands from his seat at the breakfast bar and wraps me in a huge bear hug. “Happy birthday, Evie girl,” he says, ruffling my hair as he pulls back.

“Thanks, Dad,” I say, trying it out as I smile up at him.

“Presents or breakfast first?” he asks, guiding me to a seat at the counter.

“Umm, breakfast,” I say, more interested in finding out if my favourite breakfast is still my favourite breakfast. I don’t feel like I have changed, so I’m thinking not. But then my house, my bedroom, and my parents seem to have changed. I mean, nothing about this place or this family feels familiar, so who knows.

“Here we go, birthday girl,” my mum says, placing a plate in front of me.

I smile with relief when I see the french toast sitting on a pile of baked beans. Still my favourite. “Thank you,” I say, smiling at both of my parents, who are still smiling at me.

To them, this and apparently me, is all very normal.

Breakfast passes without too much weirdness, despite the fact that these two people feel like relative strangers to me. I don’t understand what’s going on, but they are very nice to me and it seems like I am happy here. I also discover I have a baby sister, who is only nine months old and spends most of the morning sitting in her high chair smiling at me. I don’t remember having a sister last night or for the last eight years and it’s weird to have one now, although not necessarily in a bad way.

“Okay, time for presents, then it’s off to school,” my mum says stacking the plates in the sink.

“Here we go, birthday girl,” my dad says, placing three wrapped boxes on the kitchen bench in front of me.

I stare at them, not quite sure what to do. There’s something familiar about the smallest box.

Don’t you want to open them?” he asks.

I turn and see him smiling down at me and I nod, reaching for the parcel in the middle. When I rip off the paper, I see a Walkman inside and I can’t help the squeal of excitement I let out. The largest box contains clothes including a new jacket, which I decide I will wear to school today. Finally, I reach for the smallest box, which is wrapped in silver paper. My stomach flips a little as I try to imagine what’s inside. I pick it up and gently shake it to try and work it out. For some reason, something about this box, this package, feels very familiar.

“Do you want to save it for after school,” my mum asks as if sensing my hesitation. “Have a present to come home to?”

I glance up at her and see it’s okay if I do, so I nod, not quite sure why I’m not ready to open it yet.

“That’s fine, Evie. But let’s go and get ready for school, okay? You’re going to be late, sweetie.”

“Okay,” I say, jumping off my stool and heading towards the stairs, the unwrapped present still in my hand. Just as I reach the foot of them, I turn and take in the sight of what is apparently my family now. “Mum, Dad,” I say. They both turn to face me, smiles on their faces as they wait for me to speak. “Thank you,” I say, smiling back.

My dad’s smile gets bigger as he says, “Of course, Evie, no need to thank us, sweetie.”

I nod before heading back up the stairs to get ready for school.

Still, as I climb the stairs, I have the strangest sensation.

Almost like something is missing.

Something very important.

Something that might be related to what’s in this tiny silver-wrapped box.

24th July 1985

Nine years old

We’re getting new neighbours. I’ve been sitting here at my window watching the removalists unpack all morning. I have no idea who they are, but it looks like a family. There are bikes and a swing set, even a dog kennel for the backyard. I hope it’s someone my age.

“Evie, sweetie, time for lunch,” I hear my mum call up the stairs.

I’m used to her now. It’s been over a year since I woke up feeling like something was different; that my life wasn’t quite as I remembered it to be. Even though I don’t fully understand what happened and I couldn’t tell you exactly what had changed, I’m okay with it now. It doesn’t matter anyway, because my parents are nice, so is my baby sister, even if she doesn’t do anything more than cry and sleep. And more importantly, they act like nothing is wrong, as though this is where I am supposed to be, so why should I feel any different.

“Coming,” I call out, dragging myself away from the window. Maybe they’ll be here by the time I finish lunch.

I head downstairs and find my mum and sister in the kitchen already. It’s summer break and school is finished. I’ve been home for just over a week and it’s safe to say I’m bored.

“Did you see the new neighbours?” Mum asks, knowing I’ve been staring out the window all morning.

“Not yet,” I say, sitting up at the breakfast bar as she puts a sandwich and some crisps in front of me.

“I’m sure they’ll be here soon,” she says, smiling as she takes a seat next to my sister’s highchair. “Maybe you’ll make friends with them,” she suggests. “So you don’t have to spend all of your holidays day-dreaming out your window.”

I shrug. I’m hoping for the exact same thing. It’s true, that for the last week I’ve been cooped up inside, staring out the window as though I’m waiting for something to happen. I have no idea what it is I’m waiting for, only that I am.

It’s almost like the feeling I had back on the morning of my eighth birthday, when I first woke up in this place, continues to stay with me. Only now, it’s getting stronger and stronger. It’s virtually impossible to ignore and the only way I can describe it is that it feels like there is something out there, something important, that I’m supposed to find.

Maybe today’s the day that will happen.

“Perhaps you can go outside after lunch, Evie,” Mum suggests now. “Get some fresh air for a change.”

“What?” I ask, my sandwich halfway to my mouth as I glance up at her.

Mum smiles at me as she says, “Go outside sweetie, meet the new neighbours, have some fun.”

I know what she’s really saying. Go and make friends. I don’t really have a lot of friends at school, but that’s not entirely my fault. Showing up the morning of my eighth birthday was hard. I didn’t really feel like I knew anyone, yet everyone else already knew each other. Some people acted like they knew me too, and I guess I had some friends, but it was all so overwhelming trying to make sense of who everyone was, of how I fit into it all.

I longed for something, or someone, who was familiar. The problem was, I couldn’t remember what familiar was. I couldn’t remember anyone that I’d known before I woke up in this house a year and a half ago.

I kept all of this to myself, not wanting to risk exposing who I was or what had happened to me. I couldn’t answer it, so how could anyone else. It was easier to just act like this was my life and where I was supposed to be. But to do that meant I would often spend my lunch breaks in the library, getting lost in books. After school and weekends were spent in my room, daydreaming of my own stories, of memories that seemed to float just below the surface, but always out of reach.

But Mum was right; I did want friends. I wanted what I saw in the playground at school. The knowledge that someone was looking forward to seeing me, was waiting for me, expected me to show up each day. I wanted someone to notice when I didn’t.

“Okay,” I say, finishing off my sandwich. I watch as Mum smiles at me as I take my plate to the sink. Picking up the bag of crisps and a glass of water, I head out the front to sit on the step and watch my new neighbours move in next door.

I can see from the back of the removal truck that they’re nearly done. There’s still no sign of the family who’s moving in here and I wonder how they know where to put everything. Just as I’m thinking this, a car pulls into the drive, a man and two kids inside. I watch as they all hop out, the voices of a boy and girl arguing in that playful way I’ve seen between brothers and sisters at school. I can’t see what they look like yet; the trees in the front yard are blocking them.

“Rachel, stop,” a boy’s voice says and I can’t help but smile, thinking at least one of them is a girl. Maybe she’ll be my age.

“Hurry up,” the girl called Rachel says as she comes skipping down the path to the front door.

The boy follows after her. I turn to look at him at the exact same time as he turns to look at me. We both freeze, our eyes wide as we take each other in.

“Evie?” he says at the same time as I open my mouth and say, “Ben?”

I don’t know how much time passes or whether it just stops completely. But it doesn’t matter, because right in that very second, I work it all out.

With just one look, one word spoken, I am hit with a flood of memories so powerful, I almost gasp for air. Suddenly, the very second our eyes meet, I remember. I remember
everything
.

Ben.

There’s Ben Foster.

And with the memory of him, comes the memory of so many things. Memories of things I didn’t even realise I’d forgotten.

Memories of a life when I was called Evie Roberts.

Memories of a life when a young boy called Ben Foster promised to look after me as he walked me to school.

Memories of a life with a boy called Ben Foster who rescued my cat, Mr Kitty, from the tree.

And memories a life where a boy called Ben Foster gave me my first kiss.

How has this happened?

“Evie?” he says again as he walks towards me now. “Is that really you?”

I haven’t moved from the step, but I’m nodding at Ben, trying to tell him that yes, it
is
me. Although it felt like everything changed a year and a half ago, I never thought
I
changed. I thought I was the same person. I mean I looked the same as I remembered; I just seemed to live somewhere else, with people and a home I didn’t recognise. But underneath it all, I always knew I was me, I always knew I was still just Evie. But, I’ve never had anyone to ask, so I couldn’t ever be entirely sure. But now Ben is here and he knows exactly who I am. And now, so do I.

“You remember me?” I ask, when he’s only two steps away from me.

Ben stops. “Of course I remember you, where have you been, Evie?” he asks.

He remembers me. Somehow, this boy called Ben Foster, remembers me. Did he suddenly get all of his memories back, just like I did? Or did he never forget me in the first place?

“Have you remembered me all this time?” I ask.

Ben shakes his head at me, but it’s not in denial, it’s more in confusion, as though he can’t understand what’s happening. “Of course I have,” he says, crouching down in front of me. “How could I possibly forget you, Evie?” he says as though it’s all so obvious. “You’re the one who suddenly just disappeared overnight. What happened?”

I’m staring at this boy who hasn’t forgotten me. At this boy who not only remembers me, but who noticed that I went missing. I shrug. “I don’t know, we moved,” I say, even though this isn’t entirely true.

Ben smiles now. “So did we,” he says, gesturing to his new house. “Isn’t it lucky that we ended up moving next door?”

I smile at him as I say, “Yeah, really lucky.”