A Heart Without Your Memory

When Margot pulled me out of the precinct for the fifth time, I didn't even bother buttoning my shirt correctly.

She slammed a manila folder against my chest, her face a mask of practiced disgust. For Gods sake, Gideon! Cant you keep it in your pants? Five arrests for solicitation in six months. Do you have any idea what this is doing to the firms reputation?

She gestured toward the man standing a few paces behind her. "And don't you dare blame Damian this time. He was with me the entire night. You cant claim hes out playing dress-up as his 'evil twin' anymore."

Damian. My mirror image. My identical twin brother.

He stood there with his arms crossed, watching me with a look of feigned pity that didn't quite reach his eyes. Margot waited for me to start the usual routinethe desperate pleas, the claims of being drugged or framed, the begging for her to believe the man she had married ten years ago.

But this time, I just looked at her. I felt a strange, airy lightness in my chest, like a string had finally snapped.

"Lets get a divorce," I said. My voice was steady, devoid of the usual tremor.

Margot let out a sharp, condescending laugh. She didn't even look surprised; she just looked bored. "Fine. If thats the play youre making today, Gideon, go for it. See how long you last without my bank account."

She turned on her heel and walked toward her car, Damian trailing behind her like a loyal shadow. I watched them go, but I didn't follow. I hailed my own cab and gave the driver an address in the opposite direction.

Margot didn't know that my mind was finally giving up. The trauma of these past six months had triggered something the doctors called dissociative amnesia. My brain was systematically deleting her. By next month, she would be a stranger. And eventually, so would our daughter.

1.

As the city lights blurred outside the taxi window, I drifted into a fitful sleep. My dreams were a jagged montage of the last half-year, a highlight reel of my own destruction.

The first time the police took me in, I thought the world had ended. I sat in that interrogation room, staring at the grainy surveillance footage of a man with my face, my walk, and my clothes entering a seedy motel.

"Its not me," I had stammered, my heart hammering against my ribs. "Its Damian. Hes hated me since we were kids. Hes obsessed with ruining me."

I saw the way the man in the video looked directly at the cameraa subtle, predatory smirk. It was a taunt. A signature.

But Margot had been cold as ice. "Damian is sensitive. Hes shy. He can barely talk to a woman without blushing, Gideon. You, on the other hand, have always been the 'charmer.' Stop projecting your filth onto your brother."

I had undergone polygraphs, paid for private psychiatrists, and begged for her to see the truth. She chose to believe the brother-in-law who had crawled back into our lives a year ago after being "estranged" for a decade. As punishment for my "lies," she took our daughter, Piper, and disappeared for a month. No calls. No address.

When they returned, Piper stopped calling me Daddy.

The second time, I tried to prove my devotion through blood. I knelt on our kitchen floor and opened my veins, a desperate, pathetic attempt to show her Id rather die than be the man she thought I was.

She didn't cry. She just looked at the mess on the marble and called an ambulance with the same tone she used to order takeout. She bailed me out, but only because the scandal of a suicide attempt was worse than the arrest.

The third time, I lost it. I went to the family estate to confront Damian, only for Margot to slap me so hard my vision blurred. "You commit these crimes and then come here to drag him through the mud? He has your face, Gideon. He shouldn't have to pay for your sins!"

That was the day she moved Pipers legal guardianship into Damians name. She told our daughter to call him "Papa D."

To keep from losing them entirely, I became a ghost in my own home. I stayed within the walls of the estate, never leaving, thinking I was safe. And yet, the police came again. With "ironclad" evidence.

I started to doubt my own reality. I saw specialists, underwent grueling tests for Dissociative Identity Disorder, convinced I had a monster living inside me. Four arrests later, I had lost my wife, my child, and my sanity.

By the fifth time the cuffs clicked shut, I just held out my hands. I was done. I wanted the cell. I wanted the quiet of a prison where they couldn't reach me.

I looked at Margot in the station lobby. "Believe whatever you want. Youre blind anyway."

She sneered. "I hope you keep that tough-guy act up, Gideon. Its the most interesting thing about you lately."

Damian touched her arm gently. "Margot, don't be angry. Gideon doesn't mean to throw his life away. Hes just... hes always been popular with women. I think he just couldn't handle being a one-woman man."

I looked at Damian and felt a cold ripple of nausea. Every single time I was arrested, he was there to "support" Margot, conveniently providing the "missing" evidence to the police.

"I guess the whole marriage, the vasectomy, the 'devoted husband' act... it was all just a long con, wasn't it?" Margot said, her voice dripping with venom.

I didn't argue. There was no point. She, like my parents before her, saw Damian as a precious, fragile thing. My mother always blamed me for "stealing" Damian's nutrients in the womb because he was born smaller. My childhood was a cycle of his hand-me-downs and his leftovers. He was the golden boy; I was the thief.

Until I met Margot in college.

She had been my sun. She was the only person who saw my anxiety, who handled my childhood scars with grace. She gave me the courage to step out of Damian's shadow. I didn't have words to thank her, so I gave her my life. I learned to cook every meal she liked; I stopped eating spicy food for ten years because she hated the smell. I worked eighteen-hour days to help her build her firm. When she got pregnant, I treated her like glass. When Piper was born, I got the vasectomy immediately because I couldn't bear to see Margot go through that pain again.

The woman who pulled me out of the abyss was now the one pushing me back in.

I went back to the house one last time to pack. When I opened the front door, a bucket of ice-cold water drenched me from head to toe.

Piper stood there, the empty bucket in her hands, her face twisted in a sneer that looked far too old for a seven-year-old. "Youve been playing with trashy women all day. I thought you needed to cool off."

I wiped the water from my eyes, shivering. "Who taught you to do that?"

My mother stepped out from the shadows of the hallway, pulling Piper into her arms. "Is she wrong? If you had any dignity left, Gideon, youd leave now before the sixth arrest."

"You know, don't you?" I whispered, staring at my mother. "You know Damian is doing this."

2.

She didn't answer. Instead, Piper lunged forward and rammed her head into my stomach. "Don't you talk bad about Papa D!"

The pain was a dull thud, but the ache in my heart was sharper. I tried to walk past them to go upstairs, but Piper blocked the way.

"Youre divorcing Mommy," she spat. "You don't belong in Mommys house."

Mommys house? I had paid for three-quarters of this mortgage. I had picked out every piece of furniture. "Move, Piper," I said, my voice low. "Or I will show you that even 'trashy' fathers deserve respect."

She rolled her eyes. "Respect? Youve been a house-pet for ten years. You haven't made a dime since Mommy took over the firm. Why should I respect a loser who spends all our money on hookers?"

Her words were a serrated blade. Ten years of sacrifice, and to my own daughter, I was just a leech.

She looked me up and down with pure disdain. "Youre old, youre ugly, and youre a cheat. Im embarrassed to tell people youre my dad. And that scar on your arm? Its disgusting."

She pointed at the jagged, discolored flesh on my forearm. I got that scar three years ago when she knocked a pot of boiling oil off the stove. I had shoved her out of the way and taken the brunt of it. It was a permanent reminder of the day I saved her life.

A surge of white-hot fury hit me. I grabbed her hand and gave her a sharp smack across the palm.

Piper shrieked. My mother screamed and shoved me, sending me stumbling back against the stairs. My head cracked against the banister, and for a second, the world went gray. My memory felt like a flickering candle in a windstorm.

The front door opened. Margot walked in, taking in the scene. She didn't ask what happened. She just walked over and kicked me while I was down.

"Have you lost your mind? Laying a hand on a child?"

I looked up at her, blinking back tears of physical and emotional pain. "Im disciplining my daughter for being a brat. Whats your excuse? Letting her call her uncle 'Daddy'? Is that the new parenting trend for the brain-dead?"

"Your daughter?" Damian stepped forward, scooping Piper into his arms. He looked like a hero in a Hallmark movie. "Look at her, Gideon. Does she look like she belongs to you?"

The three of them stood thereDamian, Margot, and Piper. A perfect family portrait. It should have destroyed me. Instead, I just felt... empty.

"Oh, so youre the tough guy now? The big disciplinarian?" Margot mocked. "Whats next? Going to audition for a soap opera?"

I stood up slowly, leaning on the railing. "Legally, the divorce isn't final. I have every right to be here. And until a judge says otherwise, I am her father. Ill parent her however I see fit."

But I wasn't there to fight. I was there for the money.

In my desk was an envelope with five thousand dollars in casha wedding gift from my old mentor, Mrs. Higgins. It wasn't much, but it was enough for a plane ticket to anywhere but here.

I grabbed the envelope and headed for the door. Piper was waiting at the bottom of the stairs. "Think you can just run away after being mean? Im going to show Mommy who you really are."

Before I could react, she lunged at me. She grabbed my damp shirt and started tearing at it with a strength fueled by pure malice. The envelope fell, and the cash scattered across the foyer floor.

"Look!" Piper screamed. "Hes stealing Mommys money!"

Damians eyes went red with fake hurt. "Gideon... I tried to hide this for you. Why are you still doing this?"

Margots eyes narrowed. "Hide what?"

"The loan sharks," Damian sighed. "They called me last week. Gideon owes them a hundred and fifty thousand. Probably for his... habits. I paid it off so he wouldn't get hurt, but I didn't think hed start stealing from the house."

"Damian, you lying son of a bitch!" I roared.

Piper kicked me square in the shin. "Don't you talk to him like that!"

Margot looked at me with a soul-crushing disappointment. "How did you become this person, Gideon?"

Piper shielded Damian as if I were a wild animal about to attack. "I wish I wasn't your kid," she whispered. "I wish Damian was my real dad."

"I give you ten thousand a month for 'household expenses,'" Margot said. "And its still not enough for your whores? You have to take out loans?"

I laughed. It was a dry, hacking sound. Damian handled the "household" accounts. My ten-thousand-dollar allowance usually ended up being a few hundred dollars in cash left on the dresser after he "processed" the bills. I had told Margot. She had called me paranoid.

I knelt down to pick up my five thousand dollars. It was all I had left of a life that was already fading from my mind.

"Gideon, look at me when Im talking to you!" Margot grabbed my wrist.

3.

"Why are you stealing?" she demanded.

"Im not," I said, wrenching my arm away. "This was a gift from Mrs. Higgins. Its mine."

"That old woman?" Margot sneered. "She lives on a pension. Where would she get five thousand dollars for a loser like you?"

I shoved Margot back, hard. "Watch your mouth. You owe everything to her!"

When Margots first startup failed years ago, we were being hunted by debt collectors. I had been beaten bloody in an alleyway protecting her. It was Mrs. Higginsmy college professorwho stepped in. She took the blows, ended up with fifteen stitches in her head, and sold her home of thirty years to pay off our debts. She had been the mother to us that neither of us ever had.

Margot shrugged, indifferent. "She wanted to play the martyr. I just gave her the stage."

I stared at her, wondering when the woman I loved had been replaced by this monster.

"Gideon," Damian said, stepping closer with a predatory glint in his eyes. "Did you ever wonder why a 'random teacher' would sell her house for a student? Use your head."

Margots face went pale. She looked at me, her voice trembling with a new kind of rage. "Gideon... did you sleep with that old bitch? Was that the price?"

The slap I gave her echoed through the house.

"Margot!" I screamed. "Youre sleeping with your brother-in-law! Don't you dare talk about her!"

Margot rubbed her cheek, her eyes turning obsidian. She didn't yell. She just pulled out her phone. "Bring Mrs. Higgins here. Now."

"Margot, no! Don't you dare touch her!"

My desperation only fed her fire. She grabbed me by the throat, shoving me toward the glass doors leading to the garden. "Am I not good enough for you, Gideon? Is that why you need the trash on the street and the old biddy in the classroom?"

I couldn't breathe. "I didn't... Damian is lying!"

"Still blaming Damian!"

She dragged me out into the yard. In the distance, near the edge of the estates wooded perimeter, I saw a car. Two of Margots security team were dragging Mrs. Higgins out. Her clothes were disheveled, and her grandson was clinging to her coat, sobbing in terror.

"Margot, stop! Shes an old woman! She saved us!"

But Margot was beyond reason. She pinned me against a stone pillar with one hand and started clawing at my shirt with the other. "You can't control yourself, right? You like it dirty? Lets see how you perform in front of your 'benefactor.'"

I started to shake, the humiliation washing over me like acid. "Margot, were over. Youve humiliated me enough. Don't do this to her. Have you forgotten how to be human?"

She froze for a second, then threw my torn shirt into the dirt. "Don't act like a saint. It doesn't suit a man whos been caught in a motel five times."

Piper came running out, skip-hopping across the lawn. She stopped and spat on my shoes. "Mommy, hes so gross. Hes not my daddy anymore."

She looked at Margot. "Papa D is going to be my real daddy soon, right?"

Margot picked Piper up and kissed her forehead. "Of course, baby. You can have whatever daddy you want."

Piper looked at me, her chin held high. "Hear that? Mommy hates you. Just leave so Papa D can move in."

My heart didn't break; it turned to ash. "Fine," I whispered. "Hes your father now. Im done with you."

I broke away from Margots grip and ran toward Mrs. Higgins. I had to get her away. I had to save the only person who had ever actually loved me.

But then I saw her. She was standing on the edge of the unfinished balcony of the guest house being renovatedsix stories up. She was holding her grandson, her eyes fixed on me. There was no hate in them. Only a quiet, devastating apology.

4.

"No!" I screamed.

She looked down at me and gave a small, sad nod. The boy in her arms was unnaturally stillhe had stopped crying. My heart stopped. I ran toward the stairs, my lungs burning, but I was too late.

There was a sickening, wet thud.

Warm, metallic-smelling blood sprayed across my face and chest.

I tried to scream, but only a broken wheeze came out. They say when you hit the absolute bottom of human sorrow, you lose the ability to cry. You just break.

...

Back at the main house, the housekeeper was waiting anxiously as Margot kicked off her heels. "Ma'am, Mr. Marshall has locked himself in the bedroom. He hasn't eaten all day. He won't let anyone in."

Margot sat down at the dining table, exhausted but still fueled by spite. "If he wants to starve, let him. Hell come crawling out when his stomach wins over his ego."

The housekeeper hesitated. "Your assistant sent over some files. She said the property where the... incident happened... is the site for the new corporate bidding. She wants to know if you're still moving forward with the acquisition, given the 'casualty.'"

Margot rubbed her temples. "What casualty? Is Gideon still paying people to pull stunts?"

The housekeeper silently handed her a police report. It detailed the time and cause of death for Mrs. Higgins and her grandson.

Margot didn't even read it. She crumpled it and tossed it into the trash. "Unbelievable. Infidelity, debt, and now hes got the staff lying for him? Im going to end this right now."

She stormed upstairs and kicked the bedroom door open. "Gideon, get out here! Were finishing this!"

She stopped. The air left her lungs. The room was a graveyard.