Forget to Remember

shore of Loch Ness, hiked the moors, and got lost in Bristol. We didn’t see any pirates in Penzance, but I’ve got a sweatshirt from Land’s End that gives the records for doing the distance for walking, running, bicycling, flying, crawling, and every other way you can think of. We had a wonderful time.”
    “You must have gotten to know each other very well.”
    Janet smiled an infectious smile. “Of course, we learned a lot about each other. Aiko told me all about her parents and her brother who tried to kill her.”
    “Michael tried to kill her?” Carol was shocked into giving Janet her full attention.
    “Yes, but her parents didn’t believe her. She came to England to get away from him. That’s also why she changed her name from Cynthia to Aiko.”
    “The three of them died in a plane crash.” Carol softly repeated what she had said before while telling Janet about her meeting with Mrs. Horton. Michael was dead so Cynthia didn’t have to hide anymore.
    “You’re getting ahead of my story. One of the things I learned about Aiko was that she was excellent at math and had been teaching in the U.S. I asked if she wanted to teach math at the secondary school where I taught. I helped her get a job there.
    “Her name was a bit of a sticky wicket because she didn’t want to go on the national records as Cynthia Sakai. She was afraid her brother would follow her here and kill her if he found her. We pulled some strings and got her name legally changed to Aiko Murakawa.
    “We taught together for two years. In August, when she heard about her parents and brother being killed—it was broadcast on the BBC because of the status of her parents—she flew back to the States. I haven’t had so much as an e-mail from her. I didn’t have a phone number or any other way to get in touch with her. I was worried about her. And now, a few weeks later, you appear on my doorstep.”
    “But I’m not Cynthia—or Aiko.”
    “Ah. Remember, girl, you have amnesia. Here’s a test. Aiko had a game she used when she was teaching her students binary. I’m an English teacher, and I could never quite figure it out.”
    Janet did a quick look around and picked up some knickknacks from a shelf. She arranged them in four rows of seven, five, three, and one. “On your turn you remove one or more from a single row. If you remove the last one you win.”
    “You start.”
    Carol said it automatically, without thinking. She won the game. Janet had a smug look on her face. Carol didn’t say anything. Janet suggested they play again. Carol demurred.
    “Look, yes, I know how to play this game. I admit it. I beat a scam artist at it. But that doesn’t mean I’m Cynthia Aiko.”
    “All right, here’s the acid test. Aiko has a scar on her abdomen where her brother slashed her with a knife.”
    Carol stared at her. No, this couldn’t be true. She wasn’t Aiko. She wasn’t Cynthia. Why would Mrs. Horton lie to her? Why would her own grandmother disown her? Carol slowly unzipped her jeans and pulled them down, revealing the scar, about three inches long, something like an appendicitis scar but too far to the left, too jagged, and slanting upward.
    Janet took one look at it and nodded. “That’s it. Welcome back to the land of the living, Aiko—or Cynthia, if that’s what you prefer.”
    Carol still couldn’t grasp it. “I’m Cynthia? But Mrs. Horton—my grandmother—told me I wasn’t Cynthia.”
    Janet came over, sat in the chair with Carol, and held her close.”
    Carol was sniffling. “Why did Michael try to kill me?”
    “You said he was always somewhat unbalanced and paranoid. You suspected he thought you were trying to cheat him out of his inheritance. He attacked you in bed one night in the dark when your parents were on a trip. You fought him off, but he wounded you. He claimed an intruder attacked you.”
    “It was Michael all right. I could identify the smell of his aftershave anywhere. It stunk.”
    Janet pulled her head away from Carol and stared at her. “You remembered?”
    Yes. She remembered the smell of Michael’s aftershave. A small thing, perhaps, but enough to know she was Cynthia. She was allergic to the junk he used. If he walked into a room, she’d recognize him by his odor. She was definitely Cynthia. An enormous weight had been lifted from her shoulders, but it would take her a while to adjust to this knowledge.
    Cynthia hugged Janet. “Thank you for restoring my identity.”
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