At one point or another as he went about his morning routine Adrian realized that he'd forgotten that Lyra had promised him five-hundred dollars, "up front", as she said. Bringing money into a relationship, any kind of relationship whether it was between friends or lovers, was inadvisable. He wasn't strapped for cash. A little more spending money would be nice, but he wasn't broke. He wasn't a cheapskate, but he wasn't ready to start spending money on a girl. Did she even like him? Would she reciprocate his affections if he made them apparent?
One week had passed since he'd met Lyra on that fateful Tuesday summer night, and two little "dates" had taken place, he liked to think. One on Wednesday when they'd gone to the mall, and one on Thursday at the beach.
Not that anyone was counting.
Already one week of summer?
It had been three days since they'd gone to the beach together. Naturally people needed some time alone. He'd only texted her several times.
Friday he spent at home, a bit tired from the events that had transpired in the past few days, and was rather lazy. He curled up with a laptop with earbuds jammed in his ears. Facebook, forums, Reddit, the norm. His hand eventually fell upon his phone.
"hi"
Those two infernal characters had been entered on his screen, his thumb hovering just above the SEND button. What if she didn't want to be bothered? What if she was doing something important? He bit the bullet.
The response was almost instantaneous.
"ohai :D"
"whats up?"
"miss u"
He'd read and reread that text over and over, trying to decipher its hidden message.
"<3"
A heart. Girls liked hearts. Hearts and smiley faces, no biggie, right?
His hands trembled as he shot her a text back.
"miss u too"
And that was the end of their little conversation.
Saturday he'd gone to see a movie with his close friends. While waiting in line at the theater Adrian had checked his phone. It was snatched out of his hands.
"What the hell, man."
He reached to grab it back and found it just out of reach. The image displayed was when he and Lyra had gone to beach and he'd taken a picture of the two of them together.
"Ooh, who's this?"
Whose bright idea was it to set that as my wallpaper? Oh, right, me.
Adrian grabbed his phone back. "Lay off."
Still, his friends heckled him for a bit. He wasn't going to hear the end of it.
Sunday he'd gone to the park with his camera alone on a gloomy day, trying to snap a shot of a delicate leaf floating on a pond and some ducks.
It was a bit lonely, but it gave him time to think. So far he'd learned nothing of Lyra's past, and only some of her quirks, more or less. Lyra liked to jump and skip. She bit her lip a lot and would sometimes brush her bangs behind her ear, even if they weren't in her face. She smiled big and seemed to play with her hands a lot. Maybe it was shyness. She would sort of stand with her hands together in front of her and twist about anxiously. She knew little about him as well. She knew his parents were on vacation. She knew he liked photography, and was going to attend Washington University in three months to major in Journalism. And...that was about it, he supposed.
Friends first.
Lyra was a friend. She clearly liked him as a friend as well. The hugs, well, they were nice. He didn't mind hugs. The kiss could wait. It had to be special.
Monday morning.
Adrian sat at his desk, a towel around his shoulders as he studied the photos. He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, crumpling up the pictures taken at the beach.
Lyra probably thought he was crazy after the day at the beach. Seattle was a big city, but it wasn't like seeing someone a few times meant they were following you. Besides, he didn't have time to be chasing after made-up stalkers and ghosts. There was a much more immediate, pressing issue of Lyra's amnesia. She seemed to have no intention of seeking treatment, or contacting someone who knew her. In fact, she didn't seem to even care. He had a hunch that Lyra wouldn't appreciate him going behind her back and prying into her life. He'd planned the entire thing out in his head last night. He was going to figure out who Lyra was, and where her parents were, and swoop in the save the day. He was going to help her get her memories back and she would fall in love with him and they'd go frolicking into the sunset. Or something like that.
Where to start?
Lyra was suffering from dissociative amnesia, according to a Google search. He wasn't a doctor or a premed, and had no way of confirming if his "diagnosis" was correct. It seemed to line up with what Lyra seemed to have. She clearly couldn't remember important personal information and events or people in her life (though the part about forgetting basic things like cars and electricity was something else), and he could take a guess that it was triggered by some sort of trauma.
Keep your eye on the ball.
The goal was to get Lyra's memories back. Step one? Figure out why she had amnesia. The only problem was Lyra wasn't talking.
Step two, get her help. Again, no dice, because Lyra wasn't going to the hospital unless he knocked her out and drove her there himself. He couldn't force her to check into a hospital, even if it was the best thing for her and it seemed that there was no convincing her.
Step three? Speak to loved ones, i.e. parents, friends, acquaintances. No friends, aside from him. Lyra's parents were his lifeline. They were the only people in the world who knew who their daughter was.
He opened his notebook. The last time he had opened it was two months ago, with four years' worth of doodles and barely legible chicken scratch for the student newspaper. There were a multitude of ways to go about searching for Lyra's parents. Using her phone number, he contacted AT&T under the premise of trying to figure out who paid for her monthly cell service.
PHONE COMPANY:private info.
Zilch. Private information. Unless he had a copy of Lyra's phone bill on hand...
SOCIAL SECURITYBANK STATEMENTS
There was also no point in trying to get Lyra's Social Security number, or her bank records, or anything else, because he didn't have them and they probably didn't exist, which left him with few options.
There.
BIRTH CERTIFICATE
He circled the words. The entire purpose of his little excursion to King County Recorder's Office was to find Lyra's birth certificate. At the very least, he was pretending to know what he was doing.
Step four: treatment. He didn't even know where to begin with medication. Taking Lyra around Seattle seemed to be doing something. It seemed as if Lyra was playing a game of darts, hoping that something would stick and trigger a memory. Memories could be triggered and was scientifically possible.
Adrian began putting on a pair of black jeans and white V-neck when his Galaxy alerted him as he added the suit jacket, and he swiped the screen to answer a Skype video call. Lyra's face greeted him on screen. Her hair was messy, like she'd just woken up. She was wearing a white tank top, and from the looks of it, on her bed.
"Morning!" she sang.
"Hey Lyra." He waved and smiled back, combing his fingers through his messy brown hair to make him look presentable. "How's it going?"
"No-thin' much," Lyra said, clucking her tongue. "Adrian, you rushed out so quick last night I forgot to give you something."
He sat down, lying back on his bed. "You don't have to pay me, you know."
"But I want to."
"You don't have t—"
"Adrian!" Lyra whined, rolling her eyes. "Just take it."
He sighed. "Al...Alright. I'll come get it later."
“Where you going?"
"Huh?"
"You look all dressed up."
Truthfully? Behind your back.
However, he didn't have time to answer, because Lyra cut in. "Are you going to see your girlfriend?" she teased.
He laughed. "I don't have a girlfriend."
"Awwww."
He frowned. "'Aw'? What's that supposed to mean?"
Lyra pretended to trace a tear sliding down her cheek. "So does that mean you're...single?" She made it sound tragic.
"Um, yes? Not having a girlfriend kind of makes me single. Why?"
"Just checking!"
Adrian's heart soared. Was this it? Was she going to ask him to be hers? Doing it over Skype wasn't exactly ideal, but...
"Wanted to make sure your barn door didn't swing the other way."
"...What?"
"So anyways, I guess you're busy soooo I'll call you later, bye!" she blurted.
The Skype call ended.
"Did she just call me gay?" He sighed. "Why do girls have to be so confusing?"
Lyra crossed her ankles, uncrossed them, and crossed them again. She giggled, clutching the tablet. The picture of the two of them at the beach was her wallpaper.
She sighed, leaning back. Oh, it had been somewhat strange. She'd seen the desire in his eyes, felt his hesitation last night. Her heart fluttered slightly as he hugged her, and she felt his breath tickle her ear. She'd anticipated the moment his lips would press against her cheek.
But it never came.
"But alas!" Lyra cried rather dramatically. She pouted and pretended to poke Adrian right on the nose on her screen. "You are a challenge, Mister Ross. Heehee, I like that."
She had been confused. Almost...disappointed? Maybe she'd missed a section in that chapter about human relationships. But they didn't give any advice! Just scientific evidence, statistics! She tried to think of why she liked him. Adrian Ross was her knight in shining armor. He'd saved her.
"That's one thing."
And he was very polite. A gentleman, really, to the point where it was easy enough to get him to blush by showing a bit of leg. He was a great listener, and intelligent. And he was funny!
What if he didn't like her back?
Lyra had done a bit of reading on attraction. Apparently what made men attractive, at least physically was muscle and height and other strange things like hair and skin color and body odor. Adrian was tall, but not very muscular at all, and a bit pale too. His hair was a bit messy, but he was clean shaven.
She sighed. "Why do boys have to be so confusing?"
One week and she was already bored out of her mind. Periods of inactivity made her sluggish. To cope she found herself actually going out at night to seedy bars and nightclubs. Something to take her mind off the job. She found herself a bit homesick.
She wrapped her leather jacket tighter around her body, taking a drag and blowing a cloud of smoke from out between her lips. She ran her tongue over her snakebite lip piercings, squinting in the morning sunlight.
A low, sexy female voice crooned on the other end, "Tell me, how do you like Seattle?"
She paused. "I hate it. It's fucked."
The husky caller sounded unapologetic. "That's a shame. How is my little anthropologist doing?"
"Anthro-what?"
The voice on the other end let out a low sigh. "Lyra."
"Oh. The stupid pony." She took a drag. "Why does she get nice digs and I'm stuck here?"
"You have a hundred thousand at your disposal and weapons, she gets a fraction. Find yourself a better nest if you wish," she hissed.
"Maybe I will. Listen, we gotta talk."
"Oh? I didn't realize you were in charge."
"You said this deal was bulletproof. Babysitting Lyra until she got the intel you wanted."
"And it is. It won't take long at all, I promise."
She snuffed out the cigarette beneath her boot. "I'm not stupid. How do you know Lyra won't take her sweet time? I could be stranded here for years."
"Then persuade her to work a little faster. You're her handler. Do your job. What is the issue?"
She sighed and went inside, slamming the door shut. "I've got a brat watching out for her."
"Who, Lyra? She's made contact?"
"How the hell did you expect her to learn anything from these monkeys? He's in love with her."
"Is he a problem?"
"I'm not sure."
"Well then, take care of him."
She growled. "I might. I think he's helping her, though. The last thing we need is some dweeb screwin' things up for us. And another thing, why the hell are we here instead of you? Can't you send one of your lackeys to do the job?"
"Perish the thought. It would be like throwing a defenseless foal into the Everfree."
"You didn't mind sacrificing one of your own to set this whole thing up," she remarked humorlessly. "The penthouse, this shitty apartment, laundered currency, weapons." She whistled. "You didn't take any shortcuts for this one."
"It was a necessary sacrifice. Away from Mommy," she said the last word indulgently, "my children will not last. I could have just sent you..." She let out a throaty laugh. "But you're about as sociable as a manticore, which would be...counterproductive, yes? And unlike him, you two are disposable."
"How the hell are you even making this call—"
The call ended. She chalked it up to some hocus-pocus magic, and did nothing. There was nothing to do. This time, she wouldn't mess things up. She couldn't afford it.
"I hate this place."
"What do you mean she isn't in the database?"
King County Recorder's Office was about as much as anybody would expect from a government building. There were plain white walls and floors with patterned red-and-blue tiles arranged in squares, a queue area with railings to herd people into a line and a few chairs set out. The place was noisy, filled with idle chatter and telephones ringing and fingers clacking noisily on keyboards that altogether it came to a loud roar inside the cramped office space. For some inexplicable reason, upon this Monday morning at least a good fifty people decided that they needed to request some sort of official certificate or record. And it just so happened that the air conditioning was broken. He'd waited in line for an hour sweating bullets.
"Honey, there ain't nobody named Lyra Hartstein born in Washington." The woman chewed her gum with an open mouth.
Adrian tugged impatiently at the collar of his shirt. "Could you check again?"
"You know there gon' be an additional fee—"
"Just check again, please?" he snapped, wincing as she cracked her gum and once again, did a search.
He'd stepped forward and provided the necessary information from Lyra's passport and a service fee of twenty dollars. He reached into his wallet and slapped down another eight, grumbling to himself.
The sassy woman spat out her piece of gum and put in another one. "I already told ya, there's no Lyra Hartstein, sugar."
"Let me see the screen," Adrian demanded.
She turned her monitor towards him. The listings were blank.
What the hell.
"Then search the other ones. Other states."
"Honey this place is for King County. And besides, unless you got the funds to pay for all that..."
"Forget it."
He left the bustling office, hands shoved in his jeans pockets and the lapels of his suit jacket drawn back, his mind in turmoil.
Lyra doesn't have a birth certificate.
This fact repeated itself several times as he tried to wrap his head around it. Lyra had no birth certificate. There was no record of a Lyra Hartstein ever existing. Maybe there had been a mistake. Maybe some files had gotten lost. Or maybe, there was something very, very wrong with the entire situation.
Adrian slammed the car door shut. He held in his hands proof that Lyra Hartstein existed. And yet official documentation said otherwise. Was the passport forged? Impossible. The stamping, the watermarks were all legitimate.
Right?
He muttered under his breath and scratched out a line in his notebook. The last time he had opened it was two months ago, with four years' worth of doodles and barely legible chicken scratch for the student newspaper.
BIRTH CERTIFICATE
DRIVER'S LICENSE
Besides, where would Lyra get the resources to be able to forge a passport? There had to be a reasonable explanation for all of it. He considered just asking her why she didn't have a birth certificate, but he likely to get, "I don't know", or, "I don't remember", as an answer.
Maybe her driver's license
Lyra had a driver's license but no car? Odd, but everything about Lyra was odd. But then again, with a little bit of research, it was possible that Lyra had lost procedural memories, memories for the performance of certain actions. Case in point, driving, or walking.
He suddenly had an idea. A terrible, terrible idea.
Adrian dialed in her number. A pause.
"Hey, Lyra. Mind if I swing by?"
"You want me to do what?"
Adrian popped the tab on the can of Coke Lyra had offered him, taking a nice, long swig to prepare his next words. Despite letting her know that he was on his way, she hadn't taken the time to dress herself appropriately; that is, in something other than a tank top and panties.
"I want to show you how to drive."
To his surprise, Lyra agreed. "I can't always have you chauffeuring me around like some taxi," she reasoned.
He nodded, standing up. "How is it?" he asked quietly. "Your memories."
Lyra took some time before answering him with a cautious, "Fine."
He walked over to her desk. It was still a mess. Thick packets of printed articles from the Internet filled her desk, with notes scribbled down in the margins or certain key words and phrases highlighted and underlined, mostly pertaining to society. He flipped through some of the pages.
"Is this your...research?"
"Yeah."
"...Is it helping?"
"Yes," Lyra said. "It is. It's confusing, but I think I can handle myself now." She frowned. "You know, you don't have to worry about me. I'm okay, really."
He nodded. "I know. But I guess I still worry." He faced her. "I wanna help you."
"You don't have to do that."
"But I want to. I was thinking, we could maybe even go to the DMV." He held up her license. "They could have some information we could use. And if we would could find your birth certificate..."
She let out a groan. "Adrian, no!" Lyra snatched her card from his hands. "Why do you care so much? Why can't you let this go?"
Why did he care so much?
"Because you're my friend."
Or maybe he was in love. She was a mystery. She was a puzzle that could be solved.
"What if your friend doesn't want your help?"
"I-I don't know. It's just me. I mean. Agh, I dunno." Adrian slumped a little. "I don't try to be some hero, you know? I'm not that guy who tries to...be all in the spotlight. It's not like I go out thinking I'm gonna stop a bank robbery or something stupid like that. But at least I can help someone in need."
"Why?"
"How I was raised, I guess."
"No." She shook her head. "It's something else. What did you think of when you saw me laying in the street?"
Dead silence. Well, that, and the sound of the aquarium running. The creak of the floorboards as he leaned back. The idle hum of her computer.
He stammered, "I-I don't know—"
"Yes you do. Why did you do it?" Lyra asked, striding up to him until they were face to face, nose to nose. She had to stand on her tip-toes to meet his gaze. "I could have been some convict who just escaped from prison. I could have been a desperate beggar who would've done anything to get the five bucks in your pocket."
He was silent for a long time, choosing his words carefully before launching into his speech. "1964, Queens. Kitty Genovese—just some New Yorker—gets stabbed in her apartment." He spared Lyra the gruesome details. "Your neighbor is getting stabbed. What do you do?"
"I-I guess I'd try to help them. Call the police, maybe try and save her."
"But what if you'd get hurt trying to help them?"
Lyra thought for a moment. "I'd still try."
"Most people wouldn't," he said. "In fact, most people would look away. Thirty-eight of her neighbors did. New York City, population of seven million people and nobody cares. Because somebody else will do it because they don't want to get involved."
"That's sad."
"Los Angeles, seventeen million people, fifteenth biggest economy in the world and nobody knows each other," Adrian murmured. "Man dies on the subway and it takes six hours until somebody finally notices." He gestured to the skyline outside her window. "Seattle is home. I love it. But there's less than a million people here and I'd give you a million dollars to find me a person who would save you off the streets."
"You did."
"Guess I'm that one guy."
"So you did it out of the bottom of your heart?" Lyra asked, seemingly hopeful.
He clenched his jaw. "I did it because no one else would. I don't know. Maybe they would. Maybe someone else would have saved you. We could spend our lives thinking about, 'what ifs', and, 'maybes'." But...", he swallowed, "that night, I was the only one there, so it was all on me. Either I woke you up and took you to the hospital or I walked. And I almost walked. Almost flipped a coin to decide."
Lyra's blood chilled. Her face visibly paled.
He gave a pathetic laugh. "You know, I thought that maybe the police were coming. I thought that they'd come get you, and you weren't my problem and I...hated myself for thinking like that." He snorted. "That's why I wanna help you."
She opened her mouth, and slowly shook her head, looking apologetic. "I'm...sorry. But I can't."
"Lyra, we've got leads. This could help. We could find your parents, find somebody who knows you, get your memories back!"
She touched his arm. "Adrian, I can't thank you enough."
"Don't you want to know?" He grabbed her card back. "You have a driver's license. No car. You probably don't even remember how to drive! But you have one of these!"
"I appreciate everything you've done for me. But I'm not some charity case. I can figure this out. Okay?" When he didn't answer she repeated herself, making sure they made eye contact. "Okay?"
He relaxed and gave her a half-hearted nod.
Let it go.
"Let it go, please?"
I...can't.
"I'm bad news, Adrian," Lyra said. "You should stay away. I'm trouble." She played with her hands. "But...you're my only friend right now."
"I know."
"Do you still want to be my friend?"
He didn't have to think about it. "Yes."
She smirked. "Then I guess I can't stop you." She eyed him. "How is it that you're still single?"
He gave a shrug.
"Well, I think you're a great person."
"I'll be sure to have you shamelessly advertise for me on my next date," he grinned. Adrian held up his keys and dangled them in her face. "Ready to get behind the wheel?"