//------------------------------//
// If Jason Bourne Had Breasts 
// Story: The Girl with the Lyre Tattoo 
// by Dennis the Menace 
//------------------------------//

When Adrian woke the sun was shining right into his eyes. He had slept the entire night in his chair, watching the girl as she slept (in the most completely innocent manner). She stirred several times throughout the night. He had dozed off some time past one o' clock in the morning. 

He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. His back was sore. He twisted it, popping his spine a few times and cracking his neck and yawning. She wasn't in his bed anymore. He twisted and saw her standing by his closet door, studying his photographs, her bare back facing toward him. His mouth went dry when he saw her nude body, and tried to look away. His eyes wandered lower. She turned around, and her face lit up. 

"Morning!" 

Adrian nearly stumbled when he heard her voice for the very first time, not at all what he was expecting. He stared at her. 

"Sorry. I'm not used to wearing clothes, so I took it off. I hope you don't mind." Lyra bent down, pulling on his shirt. 

Is she a nudist or something?

Right, he hadn't said anything yet. "What?" He cleared his throat. "Uh, no no no I-I don't mind." Seconds later Adrian caught himself, realizing what he had said. "I mean, I-I uh." He swallowed, biting his lip, quickly changing the subject. "You can talk?"

"Well, duh." 

Silence. He stood up, hooking his thumbs in his pockets, studying her. 

"So...why didn't you say anything earlier?" 

"Oh." She twiddled her thumbs sheepishly. "I was...scared."  

"Of me?" The idea of anybody being scared of him was laughable. 

"A little," she admitted. 

"No kidding," he laughed. "You were like a deer in headlights."  

She frowned, cocking her head sideways, having never heard the expression before. "But then I realized you were really sweet. And thank you, by the way." He stared blankly. "For the bath. And hot chocolate. And letting me sleep in your bed." 

"Oh. Oh!" His eyes lit up with understanding. "Oh yeah, no problem. No problem at all. Um. You were holding this when I found you." Adrian fished her iPhone out of his jeans. 

"Oh. What is it?" She grasped it, holding it, studying the screen. Upside down.  

He stared. "An iPhone?" He flipped it over. 

"Oh. What's that?" 

"You don't know what an iPhone is?" he asked, frowning. "Are you okay?" 

Lyra's demeanor suddenly changed. She shrank. She looked everywhere but at him, hunched over slightly.  "I-I'm sorry. I'm just...having a hard time remembering things." 

Whoa.

"What do you remember?" 

"I remember how to talk," she answered lamely. He resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "I can read the words on the cover of that textbook. I can count."

He noticed her leaning on his dresser, wobbling back and forth and trying to balance. "Can you walk?" 

"Mm-hmm." She nodded, sauntering around and doing a ditzy twirl, leaning forward with her hands behind her back. "See?" 

"That's good. How 'bout a name?"  

"Lyra." She smiled. "Lyra Heart—" She trailed off, as if she remembered something. 

"What? Lyra Hart? Is that your name?" 

"Sorry, it's Lyra." Lyra coughed. "Just Lyra."

"Okay then," he said, "just Lyra. That's a beautiful name." He put out his hand. "Adrian." 

She shook it firmly. "I know. You told me. Adrian...Ross, right?" 

He nodded. "Do you remember anything else?" 

"Um..." Lyra rubbed the side of her head with a slight groan. "It's like there's this dull throbbing in my head every time I try to remember." 

"Anything? Anything at all? A phone number I could contact?" 

She thought for a long time. She shook her head. "What's a phone?" 

Oh jeez...

The possibility of Lyra having amnesia, no matter how ridiculous it sounded, was becoming more and more plausible. No doubt whatever she had been forced to endure was traumatic enough to induce memory loss. 

"This," he said, holding up her iPhone. "You really don't know what a phone is?" 

She shook her head.

Adrian slid his thumb horizontally on the screen, holding it up for her to see. "Here. Do you remember the code? Four-digit key." 

Lyra tapped the screen. "Neat. How does it do that?" 

He shook the phone impatiently. She thought for a bit, biting her lip. 

"I remember she told me what it was." 

She?

"Concentrate." 

"Oh! Right, right." 

She recited the four-digit combination. Adrian nodded, entering it in. The smartphone unlocked. 

"Now we're getting somewhere." 

There were only a few basic apps on the splash page. No contacts, other than herself. Her call history did, however, have one missed call from a private number. When he tried to call back, the line was disconnected. 

He tapped the Contacts screen. Most smartphones had a "Me" category, and Lyra, miraculously, had made herself a profile. No picture, only a name. 


Mobile
1-206-555-1212


So that was her number. 


Address


"I think I found out where you live." He showed her the address. "Ring a bell?" 

Lyra had a more or less neutral reaction. That bugged him.

"Gimme a second." Adrian led her outside his door and shut it, beginning to strip down. 

"Can I come in?" 

He yelped, nearly slipping. "Don't! I'm changing!"  

"Oops," Lyra squeaked from behind the door.  

Adrian quickly jumped into a pair of white Levis. 

Lyra harrumphed. "I don't see what's the big deal." 

It seemed that Lyra had no sense of modesty. Or she was unaware of such a taboo. If she was, she didn't seem to care very much. 

"Why can't I go out like this?" 

She was still naked. Right. 

"Most of us put on clothes before going outside," Adrian answered tersely, averting his gaze as he glanced out the window, deeming it suitable to wear a black V-neck. He fiddled with his white digital watch on his right wrist.

"Oh. Where we come from we don't normally wear clothes, unless it's for a special occasion," Lyra said.

"Might as well go topless then." 

"Why not?" She pursed her lips. 

"Uh-huh." He tossed her his tracksuit pants. "Keep that shirt on and wear this." He sat down, his fingers deftly weaving the laces of his Converses. 

Lyra stared in awe. This was not lost on him. 

Adrian stood up, his thumbs hooked in his pockets and placed a pair of tinted Oakleys on his face. 

"Ready?" 

Lyra nodded. "Uh huh." 

The two made their way downstairs, Adrian staying close to make sure she didn't fall. He opened the garage door, waiting for her to follow. 

She slipped her feet into a pair of sandals he gave her, and he opened the garage. Lyra's eyes seemed to widen as the door opened, a faint glimmer of sunlight shining upon her face. He opened the door to the driver's side and sat in, waiting for Lyra to get in. 

Lyra looked like she was struggling to open the door. 

"Is there a problem?" 

"Oh, no, no." 

Adrian berated himself mentally. Way to be a gentleman. He opened the door for her. She ducked her head and sat down, grabbing the seat belt as if its purpose was foreign to her. Adrian buckled himself in, noticing that she began to emulate his movements slowly. 

The car came to life, the engine revving slightly. Lyra shrank down as he put the car into reverse, slowly backing out of the driveway, switching the gears, and accelerating. She gave a shriek of fright, causing him to flinch. Adrian stomped on the brakes, the tires screeching. 

"What?! What?" 

"Sorry, I've just...never gone this fast." 

Adrian had been going at a steady forty miles per hour. "Never gone this fast? Have you ever been in a car?" 

"No." 

This shocked him. "Really?" 

"Yes." 

He could tell Lyra wasn't lying this time. What reason would she have to lie? 

"Where did you live that didn't have any cars?" 

Maybe she's Amish.

She said nothing. Something wasn't right. He didn't know what.

Adrian slowly eased down on the gas, trying to give Lyra a comfortable ride. She didn't protest, so he assumed she was fine. Normally he would have shot down the road at about seventy or eighty. Who followed the speed limit anyways? 

Five minutes passed. He would periodically look in the rear-view mirror to check on Lyra. Her face was glued to the window. An awkward silence filled the atmosphere. 

"So, your hair." 

"What about it?" 

"Why'd you dye it green?" 

"Dye it?" Lyra was aghast. "No way! This is all natural." 

"You're a little weirded out, aren't you?" Adrian asked wryly. 

She huffed, "No." 

Adrian settled into a comfortable pattern. The low hum of the engine filled the silence. 

"So, uh, Lyra." He glanced at the rear-view mirror. "I noticed you got quite an accent." Not quite British or Australian, but also not American. "Where are you from?" When she didn't answer he tried coaxing an answer out of her. "So what, some nudist colony?" 

To his surprise she replied without a beat, "You could say that." 

Adrian wasn't sure if she was trying to be deliberately vague. 

She doesn't wanna talk. Fine by me. 

"So does that mean you remember something?"

It took her a long time to answer. "No," Lyra finally said. "I don't."  

"Oh. Darn." 

"Yeah. Darn." 

She doesn't seem too bummed out just having lost her memories. I know I'd' be. 

She was outright dodging some of his questions. If Adrian was aware of this, he didn't voice it. He wasn't going to press the issue. In a few minutes she'd be out of his hands. Maybe he'd hand her five bucks and they'd part ways. 

"Do you," Lyra hesitated. "Do you believe me?" 

"Do I believe what?" 

"That I can't remember things." 

"Course I do." Adrian raised an eyebrow. "Why wouldn't I?" He turned the steering wheel, easing his foot down on the brakes until the car stopped. "That's something you don't fake. Amnesia, I mean." He smirked. "I'll get you some help." 

A flat, "No." 

"Are you sure?" 

"Yes." She was gripping the door rather tightly. "I'm fine. I feel fine." 

"You didn't look fine last night. Last night you were about to freeze to death." It wasn't the best thing to say. 

She sniffed. "I have a cold. I'll be fine. I'm not hurt. No one hurt me either."

"Your knees." 

"Didn't you ever scrape your knee as a kid?" she shot back.  "Just take me to my place. Please?" 

"Alright. Alright." 

The tension settled. 

"That's a lot of carriages." 

"Cars?" 

"Right." 

"Yeah. We're on Broadway Street. Always packed." 

Lyra murmured, "There's so many people." 

"Welcome to the center of the world, Lyra," Adrian said dryly. "Capitol Hill." 

Located on a steep incline overlooking the rest of the city, Capitol Hill was essentially the Times Square of Seattle, a densely packed, urban, commercial district filled with shopping malls and cafes. 

"Really?" 

A beat. "No. No," he chuckled. "Not really." 

"Oh." Lyra seemed to deflate slightly. 

"But as far as I'm concerned, it is." 

She brightened. 





Upon pulling into the parking lot, the two found themselves being ushered out of the Honda by valets. Adrian handed one of them his keys and watched them drive it into the parking structure, pocketing his sunglasses. 

They leaned backwards to look up at the towering hotel. 

"Are you sure we're in the right place? You live here?" Adrian gawked. 

Lyra gave a shrug. 

They both walked inside into the lobby. She took a moment to watch the automatic doors slide open. Adrian approached the front desk. 

"How can I help you today?" 

Adrian looked at Lyra. She stayed behind, looking bashful. 

"My friend lives here, but she's lost her key." 

"Name?" 

"Lyra." He spelled it out for her. 

Adrian waited patiently for the woman to do her work. Lyra tugged at her collar nervously. 

"Ah, Miss Lyra." 

A look of relief washed over Lyra's features. 

"We have a replacement key card just in case of situations like these." The woman reached underneath the counter and presented it to Lyra. 

Her shaky hand grabbed it. The woman gave a pleasant nod. 

They handed the card to the bellhop, who sent them on their way through the elevator. The trip was long and rather claustrophobic for Lyra, who gave a little shudder as she clung onto the rails. 

The doors slid open with a chime, and Adrian's jaw hit the floor. 

"Jeez..." 

Lyra lived in an extravagant penthouse flat on the top floor of a luxury apartment building. It was incredibly spacious, with a unique design aesthetic and laminated wood floors and large glass windows that reached the ceiling encompassing the room granting the viewer a panoramic view of the skyline. Outside a sliding balcony window was a terrace with a jacuzzi. Abstract paintings, houseplants, and vases were everywhere.  There was a state-of-the-art kitchen and a circular glass kitchen table with a chandelier hanging above it and some chairs. A bookshelf filled with encyclopedias and such was adjacent to an L-shaped desk with comfortable leather office chair, an iMac and a MacBook Pro serving as her workstation. A glass display case filled with archaeological paraphernalia sat directly beneath an aquarium filled with exotic saltwater fish built into the wall. Mounted above a fireplace was an expensive flat-screen plasma television. Atop a transparent glass coffee table was an iPad tablet. A flight of glass stairs led to an upstairs landing with a low ceiling where there was a futon set out along with a nightstand and such things you would find in a girl's bedroom. 

"This place is enormous!" he remarked. "It looks like you just moved in," he noted. When she didn't say anything he went on, "All this stuff is new. Some of them still have tags on them." 

She ignored him, rummaging through some drawers, locating a towel. "Hey, I'm gonna go wash up," she told him in a sing-song voice. "Don't go anywhere, okay?" 

"Sure. Take your time." He smiled. 

His eyes fell slightly below her waistline as she sashayed away. Adrian quickly looked away, coughing, admiring the paintings on the wall. 

Adrian didn't know what to make of himself. He walked around for a bit, getting a feel for his surroundings. He circled the room, turning his head as he heard Lyra belt out a note with an amused smirk and a shake of the head. 

The glass display case had a human skull and a skeletal model of the human hand with labels on each joint and digit pointing out carpals, metacarpals, phalanges. The aquarium was empty. 

Same goes with the fridge.

Curious, he tore open her wardrobe, taking note of how little clothing she had. Her only articles of clothing were a striped teal tank top and a pair of yoga pants, along with a few undergarments in a drawer. Even her sneakers looked brand new. 

A quick sideways glance at the titles on her bookshelf revealed all of them having something to do with anthropology. Passing over them, Adrian began inspecting her drawers. All of them, empty, save for one with a map of Washington state and Seattle bundled up with a red Sharpie, of all things, and a booklet. A passport! And driver's license, to boot. 

He sure as hell wasn't letting her get behind the wheel any time soon. 

He opened the U.S. passport. And there she was, with photo identification as well. 


Surname
HARTSTEIN
Given Names
LYRA


So that was it? He turned the passport in his hands, studying it. It felt brand new. He ran his thumb across the stitching along the inside of the spine. It certainly seemed legit. 

He moved on to the map of Seattle, opening it. Perhaps there would be something that would indicate Lyra's purpose, a schedule, something—

A wad of bills fell to the floor, secured with a rubber band. He picked it up and unraveled it and began counting. A hundred hundred-dollar bills...

Ten grand!

He fanned the bills out, amazed and perturbed. Who on earth would carry that much money around? Five hundred, maybe a thousand, maybe two or even five thousand would be somewhat reasonable, but ten-thousand dollars? 

There had to be something else. Adrian pulled the drawer out completely. It felt heavy, and for some reason, incredibly shallow. His hand felt along the bottom of the drawer to see if he was missing anything. 

Wait a minute... 

He touched the bottom of the drawer again, feeling it give underneath, rocking slightly back and forth. 

There was a false bottom. That was a fact. 

Adrian's hands roamed around for a latch, or a switch of some sort. He ran his fingers along the underside of the drawer and felt a bump. 

A keyhole. 

Whatever it was, he wasn't getting inside. Another thing to add to the growing list of secrets Lyra was keeping. 

Adrian's eye was drawn to glimmer behind the desk. He crept down and reached under, finding an aluminum attaché case. He pulled it out and laid it flat, taking a breath, thumbing the clasps on a whim. 

Nothing. 

There was a combination, and unless Lyra happened to remember, he wasn't going to get inside any time soon. Like most people, Adrian expected to find the sort of thing normally found in briefcases; confidential government manilla files with redacted papers and expensive fountain pens and other business paraphernalia. Now he didn't even want to know. He was afraid of what he would find. 

The shower shut off. He slid the briefcase back. 

Adrian wasn't sure what was going on, but he didn't like it. Anybody with that much money was bound to be up to no good. His mind spun with all sorts of conspiracy theories, all of which involved Lyra being involved in some seedy business, each of his ideas becoming progressively more and more preposterous. 

What if she's a drug dealer? A terrorist? 

Or maybe she was just some rich girl studying at Seattle University for some degree. Her parents were probably loaded. That was it. No conspiracy theories, nothing like that. Girls liked to fool around. Did she really have amnesia? Or was she faking it? But what reason would she have to fake it? Even so, who carried ten grand around? 

Nothing seemed to add up. 

"Did you find anything?" Lyra asked from the doorway, her skin smooth and glistening with steam. She had a towel wrapped around her body. She walked over and bent over his shoulder. "What's all this stuff?" 

He stared. 

She pointed at herself. "Amnesiac, remember?" 

"You don't know what money is?" 

"Money? Is this a lot?" 

He blinked, holding up a wad. "Yes. This is a lot of money. By the way, why do you have all of this?" 

This time Lyra said nothing. He could hear the gears in her head turning. 

"I don't remember." 

He stood up sharply. "Here. This ring any bells?" Adrian handed her her passport. 

Lyra opened it and read. "Hartstein?" 

"Yes! Lyra Hartstein. That's your name, isn't it?" He pointed at her picture. "That's you, right?" He was trying to be patient with her, but it was trying to speak to a child. 

"So I'm...twenty years old?" 

Jeez, this is really bad. She doesn't even know how old she is, let alone what year!

"My name is Lyra Hartstein," she said aloud to nobody. "Hi, nice to meet you. Lyra, Lyra Hartstein." She was muttering under her breath as she studied her passport. 

Adrian decided it was a good time to see himself out. He grabbed his jacket and put it on. 

"Where are you going?" Lyra asked. 

He turned around. "I uh, well, I thought," Adrian stammered nervously, "since you're all settled in, I thought I might just, y' know, leave?" He jerked his thumb in the direction of the door. "Will...Will you be alright?"

Her eyes cast downward. "I'll manage," she said softly.  

All he had to do was walk through the door. That would have been the end of it. They'd never see each other again. He wouldn't have to get involved. Life would have gone on like it always had and he would have been none the wiser. 

Adrian felt guilty leaving her like this. "Hey, listen. How about I give you my number? Okay?" 

She brightened, nodding. "Okay." 

"You give me a call if you need any help, alright?" He scribbled down his number with a pen and pad. Lyra admired his penmanship. "That's my cell phone. Call me any time." He coughed. "So, uh, what are you gonna do now?" 

"Well, first thing's first," Lyra said as a matter-of-factly with a frown as she inspected her wardrobe. "It looks like I'm gonna need more clothes than this." 

Adrian blurted, "The mall." 

"Hmm?" 

"Oh, nothing, just thinking aloud, you know," Adrian said. "Mall's a good place to get some clothes." 

"How about we go there?" 

"Sure! I-I'd love to!" He tried not to sound too enthusiastic. "Perfect! I'm free all day!" 

"Yay!" Lyra winked. "But first let me change." 

"No problem. I'll..." His eyes bulged. He shut them tightly, turning away. 

She was stripping off her towel in front of him. 

"Y-You know what, I'll be in the lobby—"

"This'll only take a second," Lyra said, holding up a pair of panties, as if she was wondering what its purpose was meant for, before slipping into them. She held up another undergarment. "What's this?" 

He quickly peeked. 

"Lyra, that's a bra."