Erased: My Husband Stole My Memories

On our son's fifth birthday, the husband who was supposed to pick him up came home alone.

"Where's Jerome Fox? You didn't go get him from preschool?"

"Today's his birthday. I promised him I'd be the first one there to pick him up."

I was untying my apron at my waist as I spoke.

"Never mind, never mind. You can't do anything right. I'll go myself."

"Oh, and there's corn and short rib soup on the stove, Jerome's favorite. Watch the heat, don't let it boil dry."

Just as I was about to pull the front door open, I heard my husband's puzzled voice behind me.