And until recently, I never pictured this conversation starting with a science fiction premise of interdimensional travel or whatever.

“Why aren’t we talking?” I ask. Keep it simple, stupid.

She sighs. “What do you mean, why? Like I said on the phone, I don’t know why we have to do this again. We’ve talked. It’s over.”

“What’s over? Us? Our friendship?”

She looks away, and I can tell that it’s a reluctant confirmation.

I feel sick.

“It’s not that our friendship is over. That’s not what I meant. Things are different now. And that’s okay.”

She’s not getting clearer. I tap my teeth together, deciding quickly what to do.

Then I jump.

“Okay, I’m about to tell you something really weird, and you’ll have to try to trust me for a few minutes. Can you do that for me?”

I have her attention. “Go on.”

“As far as my memory is concerned, I haven’t seen you since we were nineteen.”

I start there and lead as slowly as I can into the reality of the situation, telling her almost the whole truth. I tell her about her not getting into Avalon, then me deciding to stay in Florida. I tell her about Grayson and Dido, I tell her about Brilliance. I tell her about my birthday party and booking the house. I tell her everything that’s happened to me in Avalon since I got off the plane.

When I finish, she takes a long pause. I can see her wheels turning and I feel a pang of affection for her. I always admired how smart she was. She came up against any problem or question as if it was the start of a genuine mystery. Her hair straightener would stop working and she’d bite her bottom lip, furrow her brow, and consider, like it was suspicious instead of annoying. And, often, she’d fix it.

“That’s not what I expected you to tell me,” she says finally.

“Yeah, I know. Kiera thinks I’ve lost my real memory and that the whole LA actress thing is something I dreamed up. The doctor thinks I’m having some sort of disassociation and that I need to keep up with my general routine. And if it was as simple as not remembering where the local gas station is, or even as simple as not remembering anything about my life, then yeah, I’d assume it was some sort of bizarre amnesia. But it can’t be. I’m telling you.”

“That’s really the only thing that makes any sense, though, isn’t it? I mean, I guess people do get amnesia. It’s insanely rare, but it’s real. And you’re sure you didn’t hit your head?”