Memorized

by Alyne Roberts

  "This is Cancun. An anniversary trip," she tells me as it starts to come back. "And here, a benefit dinner for the arts."

  As we flip through more photos, I see a different girl. I see a popular girl that loves to party, has many friends, and never had less than luxury. Every event is grand, every outfit is gorgeous, and she always looks radiant. I want to look away with every moment Noah is in the frame. Every caption about love and every frozen kiss irritates the hell out of me.

  "Why do I look so happy but was prescribed anti-depressants?" Willow asks quietly.

  "I don't know," I admit. "I have your file, but there is no medical history."

  "Probably because Noah didn't know any of it. This is so weird."

  "What's it like when it comes back?" Aaron asks her.

  "Like I'm watching a movie of someone else's life. Seeing all of this feels like a bad dream. Like I woke up after drinking too much to find out I did all this embarrassing stuff or something. It doesn't feel like me." She stands and rubs her forehead. "I need a minute, please." Willow walks out the sliding door to stand on our small patio.

  "Probably because that's not her," Aaron whispers as he picks up the computer and starts flipping through. "She has nothing from before she moved here."

  He's right. It's a different lifestyle than she's accustomed to and she's doesn't remember growing into it. It's not a secret how wealthy her boyfriend is. I can tell that just from her apartment. I flick through the images in my mind, taking in any clues I can. Was her smile genuine or forced?

  "Cue knight in shining armor," Aaron says with a nudge to my shoulder.

  I roll my eyes but go to join her outside. Her hands are braced on the railing, spread wide as her head hangs down. I stand next to her and put an arm around her shoulders. When her glistening green eyes meet mine, I melt and pull her into my chest. I hate holding her, feeling her body mold against my own, but love it at the same time.

  Willow rests her cheek on my chest and I inhale the vanilla of her hair. I feel her breath quicken so I give her a reassuring squeeze. The tension in her muscles slowly starts to seep out. If I could give her my ability to recall everything, I would because not knowing is killing her.

  Willow places her hand on my chest, spreading her fingers out. I can feel the heat through my thin shirt and I look down at her small fingers. Her palm twitches and it seems like she’s feeling me more than simply placing her hand on me. Her shoulders raise with her deep inhale and I slide my hand down her back, catching strands of her hair on the way. It flows through my fingers, soft and silky.

  "You okay?" I finally ask her. The silence needed to be broken.

  She nods but doesn't move to put the needed distance between us. I continue to stroke her hair and back. Her fingers slowly graze my collarbone. I should push her away because every time I see her fingers, I will picture them on my body. The imagination I usually have a difficult time accessing is imagining them moving lower, or higher, never needing to stop.

  "Thank you, Landon," she whispers with a low and husky voice. "I don't know what I would do without you."

  "Don't thank me, sweetheart." My own voice sounds tight with restraint.

  "I have an appointment so I should be going," she says as she slowly pulls out of my arms. I instantly miss her warmth.

  Placing my hand on her lower back, I lead her back inside. She tells Aaron to keep the computer for now to see what else he can dig up. She grabs her purse and I pull open the front door for her. Willow turns and stares at me for a moment like she's debating something. Her eyes flick to my lips at the same time she licks her own.

  "Thank you again," she says and lifts onto her toes. When her soft lips touch my cheek, I reach out and grab her arm. I almost pull her in, but she lowers back down and gives a sweet smile before slipping out the door.

  "That was adorable," Aaron teases from the couch. I flip him off.

  "Gym?" I ask as I grab my bag. I'm going with or without him.

  "Sure. You need to work off some sexual frustration."

  "Shut it," I growl. "Friends. And she's secretly engaged," I remind him.

  "Yeah, that's screwed up. If you ask me, it doesn't count if she doesn't know she's engaged. Or wearing a ring."

  "Yeah, well, I didn't ask you," I mumble.

  "And you would be doing her a favor stealing her away from that snake of a boyfriend anyway," he keeps rambling. The kid talks too much.

  "Aaron drop it." He's not saying anything that I haven't already thought.

  "Just saying."

  We push through the doors of the gym next door. At least for the next hour or so, his mouth will be shut. Aaron’s distracted with punching the bag, leaving his advice on the back burner, for now. Knowing my brother, he won’t drop it for good.

  I wrap my hands and think about the way her hair felt on my rough fingers. I quickly stretch and hit the bag as hard as I can. My arms move with intense speed and strength. The pounding echoes in my head and drowns out my obsessive thoughts. I turn it all off and concentrate on my movements.

  When I arrive home from another therapy session, I feel numb. I'm not scared or feeling pity anymore. I'm not angry or even frustrated at this point. I'm just moving along. More progress is made with Landon by subjecting myself to anything that I think will trigger a flashback other than the sessions with Dr. Mason. What I do come up with, I'm still unable to make sense of most of the time.

  "Hey, darling," I hear when I unlock my door. Noah is standing in my kitchen with his carry-on bag. "I wanted to see you before I left. You sure you don't want to come?"

  "Hey," I say with a smile. "I'm sure, but thank you for always thinking of me."

  I meet him and he wraps his arms around me. I put my hands on his shoulders as he leans down to peck a quick kiss to my lips. His thumb does soothing circles on my back. Images of many goodbye hugs and kisses flashes through my mind. Some at the airport, some here, and some at what I assume to be his place.

  "I have a surprise for you," he announces as he gently pulls away from me. I smile fondly at him. He grabs a thick, silver envelope from his bag and hands it to me.

  My gaze bounces between him and the envelope. It's high quality and addressed to me in fancy calligraphy. It reminds me of a wedding invitation and I hope this is his way of telling me about the engagement. I've been too nervous to bring it up to him still. I slide my finger under the flap and slowly tear it open.

  I take out the card and it’s most definitely an invitation. With my breath held, I read it over. It's not for a wedding but to a benefit dinner for the psychiatric hospital. Noah and his father are sponsoring it with Dr. Mason as the guest of honor. All proceeds will go to the hospital.

  "What is this?" I ask.

  "I wanted to thank the hospital and your doctors for all they have done for you. For us. I'm making a sizable contribution and wanted raise a little more. You received great care there and Dr. Mason has done so much for you. Especially setting you up with his student. They deserve the recognition."

  I stare up into my boyfriend's face. He's grinning like he just handed me the world. "But they haven't fixed me yet," I say quietly.

  "Nonsense, honey." He steps toward me and kisses the top of my head. "I love you and everything will be back to normal in no time."

  I smile up at him out of habit. "Thank you. This is very generous of you."

  "I'm happy to do it. Especially for such a great cause. Plus, I've been wanting to meet this friend of yours."

  "My friend?"

  "Yes, your friend. The guy doing the study on amnesia."

  "Oh. Right." My heart sinks to the bottom of my stomach. I don't like the idea of the two men meeting. Not one bit.

  I feel like I'm a different girl than the one Noah fell in love with. With Landon, I feel like I'm someone different all together. Not necessarily the same person as before I moved to Atlanta, but maybe a new person who was born from everything I've gone through. It's like two separate lives and I do
n't like the idea of them colliding.

  Noah lays a scorching kiss to my lips that almost knocks me off balance. I grab on to his forearms to keep from falling. He pulls away quickly, glaring at my lips with clouded eyes.

  "I love you and I'll call you in the morning. Okay?"

  "Okay. Have a safe trip," I say to his back as he's walking out the door.

  Well, that was a surprise.

  I set the alarm and head to my master bathroom. When I first came back home from the hospital, I thought this room was a waste of space. The tub is big enough to fit two people and is surrounded by candles. There are two faucets with wide mouths so it feels like I am sitting near a waterfall. After my first use, I was addicted, which is lucky because I was apparently a collector of fancy soaps and bubble baths.

  Elegant glass containers of oils, salts, and soaps that had never been opened lined the mirrored shelving and had been taunting me for weeks. I finally cracked one open after a particularly long day at work and indulged in the most relaxing and luxurious bath I've ever had the pleasure of experiencing. Now, I'm tearing through the collection and using up all the fancy stuff I have been hoarding for who knows how long. That's the point, right?

  I slowly ease myself into the honey-infused water, letting my skin adjust to the heat. When I'm fully submerged, I close my eyes and rest my head back. This is the only time and place that my worries and fears can't touch me. Surrounded by bubbles and foam, I'm the Willow Thorne I know myself to be. I'm not the socialite engaged to Noah Banks. I'm not the girl from the news story who was found half-dead. I'm not the patient or lab rat in some psychological study. I'm floating. I'm whatever I want to be.

  My cell rings and I flinch from the sudden interruption. I lean over and glance at my phone on the floor. I sigh in relief when I see it is Landon.

  "Hello," I answer once I grabbed the phone.

  "Hey. What are you doing?" he asks. "I was thinking we could get a drink or something. To talk."

  His carefree tone and southern accent makes me smile. Everything is so simple in Landon's world. It's all facts, formulas, and statistics for him. Keeping himself closed off from the emotional side of the world, he spares himself from the confusion and complications of the heart.

  "I'm just taking a bath now. It’s pretty late," I tell him.

  Landon makes a choking sound before coughing. I have to pull the phone away from my ear while he gets his act together.

  "You okay?" I ask.

  "Yes." His voice is raspy and I get a chill despite the hot water. "Just great. You didn't have to answer if you were naked. I mean busy! Busy."

  I laugh. I like that I'm naked and he knows it, no matter how wrong it is. It feels intimate and sexual, even if we are miles apart. An evil side of me hopes I am affecting him the way he does me. Listening to his voice, having this connection with him while wet and nude, is possibly the hottest thing I have ever done. Not that I would remember if there was anything more intimate prior to the accident, though.

  "But I like talking to you. You make me forget how crazy I am sometimes."

  "You're not crazy. How have you been feeling?"

  "Fine. What did you guys come up with on the computer?"

  "Well, here's what we know," his voice is still tight and controlled. I rub a hand down my chest like he is watching. "You were a social butterfly, engaged, and lived the lifestyle of the rich and famous. You only spent one semester as a music major before requesting a transfer. You had average grades and apparently didn't keep in contact with anyone from Montana."

  "That doesn't sound like me."

  "You seemed perfectly happy."

  "I don't think I was," I counter.

  "Have you called the doctor that prescribed the antidepressants?" he asks.

  I splash some water on my exposed chest. "No. I'm not sure I really want to know about that," I admit.

  Landon is quiet and I hear his soft breaths in my ear. I sigh and roll my head back. "Let's not talk about me, right now. Let's talk about you," I suggest.

  Landon makes a grunting sound and I clench the phone tighter. Details of his life slip out here and there. What I do know, I know from observing him. Like how he prefers structure and routine. Always with a set schedule and ordering the same coffee. I notice how he is either locked inside his own head or watching everything around him with intense focus. There is no middle ground with Landon.

  "Come on," I plead. "Distract me."

  "You are impossible to say to no to, woman. What you want to know?"

  I chew on my lip and consider the million questions floating around in my head. I never ask them because I get the feeling he doesn't like it. Plus, I know how it feels to be treated like a science experiment. He's probably put up with it most of his life.

  "Do you remember the first time you saw me?" I ask and hold my breath.

  "Yes."

  "Tell me about it," I urge. I cross my ankles and sit up. My body is tight with suspense. I can clearly remember our collision in the hallway the day I left. I wanted to know how he saw it.

  "You were sitting in your room. It was a Tuesday and it was raining outside. You sat cross-legged on the bed, watching the rain run down your window. You wore a pair of flannel pants and black tank top."

  "Wow," I whisper. "Detailed."

  "I heard that an amnesia patient had been admitted that week," he continues, and I realize he saw me way before I saw him. "I walked the halls, finding the new faces and trying to guess which one it would be. I spend every day wishing that I could forget. I wanted to know what it was like to have that ability. When I saw you, I knew you were the one they talked about."

  "How?"

  "You looked so lost. You looked beautiful, but like you were once full of light and it was stolen from you. I figure only someone who lost something that they took for granted everyday would look like that. Maybe it's not the blessing I thought it was."

  I hum into the phone and sink back into the water. "We're both cursed."

  "Maybe we both needed to open our eyes," he whispers, sending shivers down my body.

  Ironic how we both found each other; I can only look forward and he can only look back. I'm digging and searching for something bad that happened to me whereas Landon is trying to forget it. Neither one of us can see the world like the other, but I don't think there are two people who understand each other better than we do.

  The silver envelope catches my eye as soon as I enter the kitchen as I’m rushing out the door in the morning. It's in the center of the counter with my name and address scrawled on the front. I pick it up, flip it over, and tear open the flap. I slide out the invitation and read it over.

  Noah Banks is hosting a benefit. How generous. Or pompous. I toss the damn thing back on the counter. The perfect boyfriend hasn't seemed very interested in Willow's recovery before now. Does he think that he can just throw money at the problem and it will go away? Is this a show to get her to fall back in love with him?

  The idea of her loving him back makes my chest hurt. The ache is unfamiliar and unexpected. Jealousy comes out of nowhere and rears its ugly head. If she remembers their past, will I lose what I have with her? When she's distant from him, she's closer to me and I never realized how much I liked that until now. It's inappropriate and dangerous, but the feelings are there anyway.

  Clenching my fists, I start pacing the kitchen. It's irrational, but I feel like he's trying to one-up me despite the fact he doesn’t even know me. There's a competitive and possessive side in me coming out. I want to be the person who fixes her, makes her whole. My contribution is my time, energy, and care. His will be money and photos in the paper. I can't give her the things he can, but maybe she wants what I can give more.

  I leave the house, heading to the coffee shop. I decide to walk instead of taking the bus. I need the time before I see Willow to calm down. Everyone else will see the benefit as a gift, but I see it for what it really is—a publicity stunt. By the time I enter the shop, I'm
calmer but burning up. Willow is behind the counter and already making my drink. She grins and hands my usual to me.

  "I got your boyfriend's invite," I bluntly tell her.

  Her eyes widen. "So did I. I didn't know anything about it."

  The guy has a habit of keeping important information from her. Most amnesia patients recover with the help of their family and friends; they help fill in the blanks. Noah has a selective process, only giving her what he wants her to have.

  "Like your engagement?"

  "No. This is different," she hisses. It's almost a growl, and I smirk at her. I love it when she livens up.

  Willow could use some messing with. Maybe a little more pushing and her control will finally snap. She would get angry, passionate, and maybe even feisty. I would love to see that side of her that; I know it’s hiding.

  "You're right," I agree. "This one he actually told you about."

  She growls, actually growls, and I love the sound. "Mind your own business, Landon."

  "Sweetheart, you are my business."

  She sighs and rubs her temples. I don't know if I'm giving her the headache or if a flashback is coming on.

  "Are you going?" she asks in a low voice. There's a vulnerability and hope in her eyes. It's an expression that transports me back to the first time she sat at my table asking if I was like her.

  "Do you want me to?" I hold the edge of the counter, waiting for her answer.

  She nods. I nod back and turn away from her. Back at my table, I curse myself out. Why would I go to that stupid thing? Large social gatherings are never enjoyable. One at the hospital with Dr. Mason will only put more interest on me. More questions and staring. When my mind flashes with the look Willow just gave me, I push all thoughts of bailing out of my head.

  The morning goes on like usual. I go through Willow's journal, taking notes and developing my research. Her entries are raw, unfiltered, and deep. She put it all out there knowing I would be reading her private thoughts. She's willingly open and I devour every word.