Parasite (Parasitology) by Mira Grant

the handle. “I know I always say this, but I say it because it’s the truth: I don’t remember
anything
before waking up in the hospital.”
    Just the dark, the hot warm dark, and the distant sound of drums that never stopped their pounding…
    “I can’t even imagine,” said Devi. She paused before adding, thoughtfully, “Well, some selective amnesia would be welcome. Like my first college girlfriend, or my high school boyfriend. I could easily deal with forgetting either one of them.”
    “You had a boyfriend?”
    “I had a mother, and my mother had a lot of friends with kids my age, and my mother and her friends all wanted grandchildren very, very badly. Anand was nice, he was my age, andhe seemed like a good prospect for a respectable marriage.” Devi slanted a wicked look in my direction, there and gone before I could worry about her taking her eyes off the road. “The funny part is, I didn’t end it.”
    “No?”
    “No. He did, when he showed up at the Homecoming dance with a different date and an apology for making me waste money on my own corsage.” Her laugh was bright in the confined car. Beverly shifted in the backseat, making a curious buffing noise. “The replacement date’s name was Nikhil. In case you don’t know enough about Indian names to get the joke, it’s a boy’s name.”
    “Oh,” I said. “Well, I guess that made your coming out a little less awkward.”
    “Not really. At least Nikhil was Indian. Still is, presumably—I haven’t spoken with Anand in years.” Her tone was light, intentionally more conversational than our previous relationship would justify. She was trying to keep me relaxed. Surprisingly enough, it was working. “Katherine is both incapable of giving my parents grandchildren unless we turn to medical science
and
she’s a white girl from the Midwest. I couldn’t even marry a nice Indian lesbian. Oh, the shame of it all.”
    I laughed a little. “I guess when you look at it that way…”
    “It helps.” Devi slanted another glance in my direction. Her hands were still steady on the wheel, and I found that I minded less when she took her eyes off the road, as long as she didn’t do it for long. “Like I was saying, though, I can’t imagine not remembering those pieces of myself. I wouldn’t be who I am today if it weren’t for the things that happened to me yesterday, no matter how much I did or didn’t like them. You’re handling things a lot better than I would.”
    “I might not be this calm if the memory loss was partial, but I don’t remember
anything
. This is the only version of me thatI’ve ever known.” I shrugged. “I forgot everything. I wouldn’t even know I’d forgotten, if people didn’t tell me. These last six years have sort of been my childhood? But they’re my adulthood, too. It’s weird. I am not a social model that exists outside my own skin.”
    Devi looked faintly embarrassed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think.”
    “No, it’s okay. Everyone gets around to asking eventually, and I figure driving me home gets you privileges.” I leaned back in the seat, finally releasing the handle above the door. “Everyone who knew me before the accident—who knew Sally, I mean, since I don’t even feel like I can legitimately claim to be her—says I’m much nicer now. I have a personality, which was a worry for a little while, since they thought there might be brain damage. It’s just not the same one. I don’t stress about the missing memories anymore. I stress about the thought that someday, if I’m not careful, they might come
back
. And that’s when I don’t know what I would do.”
    “You’re good for Nathan,” said Devi, and followed this seeming non sequitur by moving over a lane, heading for the exit that would take us to my street. “I was a little leery when he started dating you. It’s not my place to dictate his personal life, but he’s my friend as well as my colleague, and I was