Inseparable (4 page)

“It’s snowing,” I say.

“Hey, sleeping beauty,” Joe teases, finishing his text and dropping his phone on the beat-up

coffee table. I suddenly realize that I know nothing about his life outside this apartment. He’s been a

constant presence for the past three days, but he’s still a stranger. I have so many questions. What

about that conversation this morning with his mom? What could he possibly feel so guilty over? Are

we really just best friends when it feels like so much more?

Joe points the massive remote at the television and switches it off. “You don’t have to do that,” I

tell him.

“No television for you dude, not with a concussion.”

“Oh. You don’t have to babysit me, you know.”

“I know.”

“I’m just saying that I can manage on my own for a while if there’s someplace else you need to

be.”

Joe’s thick black brows draw together. “I
need
to be here, Adam.”

I let out the breath I didn’t know I was holding. “Okay then.”

“Come sit down. Feel like looking at some photos?”

“You know the doctors said my memory wouldn’t come back just by being reminded about my

past, right?”

“I know. But humor me, okay?”

How can I resist those earnest eyes? Besides, a huge part of me is curious to see my life. “Okay.

Wow,” I say upon seeing the tall stack of photo albums Joe’s mom had dropped off earlier.

“Mom loves scrapbooking. This is only about half the collection.”

As I settle beside Joe on the couch, trying to find the position that hurts the least, he pulls the top

binder off the pile and splays it across our thighs. It’s full of photos of his large family—sisters,

cousins, aunts, uncles—and he introduces me to them one by one with funny little stories. He smiles a

lot as he talks, and it’s clear how much he loves them. I almost feel as if I know them. I
do
know

them, judging by the number of pictures I’m in, but the memories hover just out of reach. When that

album is done, he grabs another. Stenciled in neat letters across the front of this one are the words

“Joe and Adam.” Something about the way our two names look together makes my heart skip a beat.

“We have our own book?”

“Uh, yeah. Mom has albums for every member of the family.”

“But us… together?”

Joe shrugs like he doesn’t see anything odd in that. “I guess it’s ’cause we’ve always been a

team.”

And that is definitely the truth. In almost every picture we’re together. There are photos of us as

kids playing soccer, playing baseball, in the tree house he tells me his dad built in the backyard. The

one of us at Halloween dressed as Batman and Robin makes me smile—Joe of course had been

Batman.

As Joe explains the stories behind some of the pictures, I nestle closer and lean my head on his

shoulder. It’s an instinctive action, one I didn’t even think about, but that feels right. Joe tenses but I

really don’t care; my head feels far too heavy to move, and besides, I like it here with the rumble of

Joe’s voice washing over me. It even hurts less with my injured side pressed up against his.

“Is this helping any?” he asks.

“Yeah.”
Lots
. Just not in the way he means.

Joe flips the pages and the years pass by. I groan at our high school graduation portraits; there’s

Joe, all baby faced with his slicked-back hair and a dark growth of whiskers on his upper lip. “Oh my

God,” I howl. “You had a mustache in high school?”

“I’ve been shaving since I was fourteen, dude.”

The laughter hurts but feels good, and I rub my own jaw, which only now is sprouting patchy

stubble.
Ugh
. Then there’s my photo, all gawky angles and pimply skin in high school. I don’t need

my memory back to know that I have always been sidekick to Joe’s handsome hero.

Joe catches my sigh and mistakes the cause. “Tired?”

“A little,” I lie. Joe shifts a bit, putting his arm across the back of the couch, which allows me to

snuggle closer so I’m resting in the crook of his shoulder. I may have amnesia and a concussion, but

I’m pretty sure no straight guy cuddles with his best friend or enjoys it this much. “That’s better,” I

murmur. “Thanks.”

“No problem.” Joe’s voice sounds tight. I’m not positive, but I think he brushes his cheek against

the top of my head.

Joe stops at a photo of us on a beach from more recent times. It must have been a family

vacation, because his younger sister Maria is there too, and all three of us are hugging each other. I’ve

got my tongue stuck out and my fingers raised behind Maria’s head in the shape of a
V
. “Hey, I never

noticed that before,” Joe says, flipping forward a couple of pages, then back. “You’re always

mugging for the camera, making goofy faces.”

“I just have a goofy face.”

“You have a great face.”

“You’re so full of shit. I know what I look like.” I want to laugh but hold it in to avoid the

inevitable pain.

But Joe is not laughing. “Adam—”

Whatever he wants to say is interrupted by the ringing of the phone. It’s the landline. Joe scowls

in frustration, but he gets up anyway and answers it. “Come on up,” I hear him say and realize the

phone controls entrance to the building and he is letting someone in. “My sister,” he explains with a

shrug.

The door is barely opened before a flash of silver puffy coat launches itself at me and bounds

onto the couch. “Oh wow,” she says. “You look like shit.”

“Uh, thanks. It’s Maria, right?” I recognize her from the photo album. She’s two years younger

than Joe and me, and, of all his siblings, she looks the most like him with the same big brown eyes

and curly dark hair.

“You remembered me?” she squeals excitedly and attempts to smother me in a hug.

Joe catches the hood of her flashy parka just in time and reins her in. “Jesus, Maria, be careful—

he’s injured, remember. He doesn’t remember you. We were just looking at pictures.”

“Here,” Maria pouts and thrusts the plastic container she’s holding back at Joe. “Mom sent this.”

“More food?” Joe mumbles as he takes it into the kitchen. “She already dropped a load off this

morning.”

“It’s cannoli. For Adam—not you. She says he needs fattening up.” Maria turns back to me with

a knowing smile. “Has Joey been taking good care of you? He wouldn’t let any of us near you while

you were in the hospital.”

I have to remember to thank Joe later. There is no way I could have handled this boisterous

bundle of energy. “I don’t know what I’d do without him,” I say truthfully.

Maria cocks her head to one side, her expression suddenly thoughtful. “I thought Peter would be

here. Isn’t tonight game night?”

“Adam nearly died four days ago!” Joe shouts from the kitchen. “I told Peter to stay home.”

My ears perk up. It’s the first time I have heard Joe mention another guy. “Is he your boyfriend?”

“Peter? No.” Joe shrugs carelessly as he returns to the living room. “He’s friends with both of

us, just part of the gang. But Maria’s got a huge crush on him.”

“I do not,” she protests.

“Then why are you always over here?” Joe retorts. I watch him closely. Although he’s blushing

slightly, he seems to be telling the truth about this Peter guy, which eases the sudden knot in my

stomach. But it does raise an interesting question, one I haven’t considered until now. “Do you
have
a

boyfriend?”

“Ha,” Maria barks. “He has lots of boyfriends, but no one special. Isn’t that right, Joey?”

“Maria…,” Joe warns, turning a deeper shade of pink.

“Except for you of course, Adam. Ouch,” she exclaims when Joe pulls on her hair. “What? It’s

not exactly top secret. Adam’s your BFF.”

“Robin to his Batman,” I chime in, but they don’t seem to notice the irony in my tone. I watch the

dynamics between brother and sister. Even though Joe rolls his eyes and looks exasperated, it’s clear

he loves her.

“So you really don’t remember me?” Maria asks wistfully, turning back to me.

“Sorry, no.”

“Damn, I just realized I could have finally had you. I should have said you were my boyfriend,

and you never would have known otherwise.”

Joe snorts. “I would have told him, Maria.”

“I know, Joey. I was joking. I remember—he’s off limits. Hey,” she perks up like she’s just

remembered something important. “Where is Horrible Hannah? I’m surprised she’s not here.”

It’s Joe’s suddenly guilty expression that piques my interest. “Who’s that?” I ask.

Maria arches an eyebrow like a comic book villain. “Why Joey, you forgot to tell Adam about

his girlfriend?”

I turn to my supposed best friend. “I have a girlfriend?”

Joe folds his arms across his chest. The expression that flits across his face is a combination of

anger and embarrassment. “I can take care of you myself. We don’t need Hysterical Hannah stirring

things up.”

“I take it you don’t like her,” I observe.

“I doubt Joey likes any of your girlfriends,” Maria says in a stage whisper, innocently shuffling

through the stack of photo albums. “Oh look, this one’s from last Christmas. I haven’t seen it yet.”

“Shut up, Maria,” Joe snaps. “The feeling is mutual I assure you.” His scowl deepens when I just

look at him. “What?”

“Is it true? You haven’t liked any of my girlfriends?”

“I don’t know. Hannah’s the only one I ever met. Well, except for ‘what’s-her-name’ in high

school, but she doesn’t really count since you only went out for what, a week?”

“But seriously, Joey,” Maria interjects. “I can’t believe you didn’t even call her to tell her.”

Joe stalks—there’s no other word to describe it—over to the bookshelf near the TV and tears a

cell phone from the charger. Even from here I can tell that a corner of the back plate is missing and

there’s a large crack in the screen. He scrolls through the menu. “Look, not a single missed call or

text. Doesn’t seem like she’s too worried to me.”

“All right, so she’s an uncaring bitch. You should still call her.” Maria pats me on the thigh like

I’m a five-year-old. “Don’t mind Joey, he’s just a little possessive. He never did like to share.”

I really want to ask Maria what she means, but there’s a cell phone being thrust in my face. Joe’s

got the number all ready and everything—all I have to do is hit the button to dial. With a grunt of

annoyance, he turns his back and marches out of the room. My hands are suddenly damp as I listen to

the line ring. I don’t even know what I’m going to say to this woman I don’t remember. She’s a

stranger. There’s not even a picture with her profile. Why wouldn’t I have a photo of my girlfriend?

Maybe I’ll be lucky and she won’t pick up.

“Adam?” a female voice answers on the fourth ring, dashing my hopes. She sounds cool and just

a little taken aback. “I’m surprised to hear from you.”

I have to clear my throat before I can speak. “Uh, you are?” I’m aware of Maria flipping through

the photo album beside me, trying to pretend she’s not listening intently.

“Yeah. Unless you’ve changed your mind….”

“Changed my mind?”

Hannah sighs impatiently on the other end of the phone. I don’t even know what she looks like,

but I can picture her rolling her eyes right now. “Adam, I thought this was clear when we broke up. I

told you it was either Joe or me—I won’t be second best anymore. So unless that’s changed we have

nothing more to talk about.”

“Oh.” The truth hits me. “I chose him.”

“Yeah, asshole, you chose Joe.” The line clicks dead and I let the phone drop into my lap.

Maria is leaning forward anxiously, obviously aware that something has just happened. “What is

it?”

“I don’t think I have a girlfriend anymore.” I suppose I should be upset or something, but the truth

is, I’m just relieved. Things are confusing enough as they are. Maybe I should feel guiltier than I do,

but I’m pretty sure if I loved someone I wouldn’t give up on them so easily. At least I hope so.

“You broke up?” Joe is standing in the kitchen doorway with his hands in his pockets. “You

never said anything. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Hello, amnesia.” It’s like he forgot I can’t remember. “Do I always tell you stuff?”

“Yeah,” he says, but like he’s not so sure anymore.
Interesting
. What else haven’t I told him?

Maria is watching us closely, a look of bemusement on her face. I find myself blushing at her

scrutiny. “Well, boys, gotta run.” She drops the photo album back into my lap. “I’ve got a hot date.

I’ll leave you two
single
guys alone.”

“Is your family always like this?” I ask.

Joe crumples his face in mock suffering. “Pretty much, yeah.”

“We’re your family too, you know.” Maria loops an arm around my neck and plants a wet,

affectionate kiss on my cheek. “We kind of adopted you, Adam.”

Joe sees Maria to the door, and I can hear them argue quietly but can’t make out the words. Joe

was right—his family
is
crazy. Ten minutes with Maria and I’m exhausted. I shudder to think what

holidays with the whole group must be like. I pick up the Christmas album Maria was looking at. The