That’s when my world screeches to a halt.
“Kids?”
“Course. Elijah, Tanner, and Shay. Lord almighty, Billy. How hard did you hit your head?”
She leans forward and brushes her fingers, cool as a spring morning, over my forehead.
I stare at her with rapidly expanding horror.
We’re married?
We have kids?
I’m…Billy?
I grasp my pounding head in my hands.
“I’m Billy?”
The woman, Jamie, drops a sharp peck on my cheek. Her innocent smile has a jagged edge.
“Always the jokester. Come on, honey, you’ve got work in the morning. Pumping the poo outta the outhouses.”
And that’s when I know. The reason I can’t remember who I am is because I don’t want to. An unattractive wife? A station wagon? A horde of snotty-nosed kids? Pumping poop?
Apparently, my life is hell.
And by the stubborn look on the woman’s face, this nightmare life of mine, it’s not going away.