by Hope Jones
“Yes. I had a dream about it last night. I wasn’t sure if it was just a dream or a memory.”
Graham’s happiness could be felt halfway across the world, giving me a light peck on the lips before pulling away and hugging me tightly to his bare chest, the thumping of his heart the only thing I could hear.
I hugged him back, feeling like I had more of myself than I did yesterday. I felt more like I knew Graham than I have for the last week and a half that I’d been out of my coma.
Several minutes of silence passed before I rested my chin on his chest, looking up at him and grinning wildly.
This was the hope that we both needed after our night.
Hope that things would go back to the same.
Hope that I would remember who I was, who Graham was and the life we had been building for three years.
“Do you want some bacon and toast?” he asked, shaking his head at my wild smile, but unable to hide his own grin of happiness.
“Yes, please.”
We ate breakfast, talking about my dream, or memory rather, in full detail. Graham informed me that everything that happened in my dream was actually real. I was overcome with joy that I was finally returning to a normal life.
Shortly after finishing breakfast, our doorbell rang and we knew it was the detective, Roger, as he insisted we called him.
I ran up the stairs as fast as my body would allow grabbing the robe I had seen hanging on the back of the door last night. I didn’t think it was appropriate to talk to the police on my case while in my pajamas.
We settled in the living room after asking Roger if he wanted any coffee and being declined.
“How can we help you?” Graham asked, starting the conversation.
“Do either of you know a Lacey Peters?” Roger asked, looking to Graham, knowing my memory was shit.
“I’m not familiar with the name. Are you, baby?” he asked, rubbing a sensitive spot on the back of my neck.
“No, it isn’t ringing any bells,” I told Roger.
Roger nodded and continued. “We think she may be the person that hit you that night. Given the description the witness gave us, and the half license plate, we found a hit. I wanted to see if the name was someone you knew or not. We’ve tried tracking her down, but her last known address was a bust and the person living at the address had no idea who I was talking about, considering she had lived in the residence for the last fifteen years. We’re not really sure what else to do.”
Biting my lip, I looked at Graham for guidance. I wasn’t sure what to tell Roger since I hadn’t remembered anything that would be important to my case.
Graham stood, Roger following suit and explained that my memory was starting to come back, but nothing the night of or the days leading to my accident so it wouldn’t be of use to him and the case.
Roger thanked us and left, jumping on his phone before pulling out of the long, graveled driveway.
“We should really get that paved,” I pointed out to Graham as I watched the dust fly all around Roger’s vehicle that was bumping all over the place.
“This is something you’ve reminded me of for the last year we’ve owned this place,” he told me, chuckling lightly, the warmth of that sound moving all through my body.
After Roger was long gone, I moved to the stairs and told Graham I was going to change, and I would be right back. He grunted his acknowledgment, and I took that as my cue to leave.
When I returned to the kitchen, Graham was dressed much the same as last night, but instead of a black T-shirt, it was a gray one and a darker pair of jeans. The material of his shirt stretched tight against his chest, my mouth salivating at the sight.
I didn’t remember being attracted to chests before, but damn if Graham’s chest didn’t get me hot and bothered.
He was at the sink rinsing our dishes from breakfast when he asked, “What are your plans for the day?”
“Tuesday said she wanted to take me for a girl’s day, so whatever she has planned. What about you?” I asked back, drying the dishes he had washed and set them aside to be put away.
“If you’re gonna be gone a while, I’m gonna ride to the shop and make sure Jim hasn’t burned the place down. He’s an ornery old man, but he’s good at his job and I need to relieve some of the stress on his shoulders.”
I nodded and asked, “Will you be back home tonight?”
“Yeah, I’ll be here before you get home.”
“Good, I was going to ask if you wanted to watch some movies with me? Make a date of it?”
Graham grinned at me, nodding his head in agreement.
As much as I wanted to have a girl’s day with Tuesday, I couldn’t wait till the day was over and I could spend time with Graham.
Since gaining the memory of Graham proposing, I wanted to spend more time with him for more than one reason. It seemed the more time I spent with him, the more I felt like he was actually my husband and I wasn’t living in some fake world.
Another reason was I was hopeful that the more time I spent with him, the more likely my memories would come back. Something told me that our kiss last night was the reason I remembered his proposal.
Shortly after finishing the dishes, Tuesday pulled into the driveway, rolling down the window and yelling, “Let’s go, bitch!”
Giggling and shaking my head, I finally realized that my best friend had only changed physically, due to her job and having a child making her grow up in the fashion department. She was still the same outgoing, fun loving, and silly self.
Grabbing my coat and purse, I ran back through the house to find Graham, finding him in his home office on the computer.
“Tuesday is here,” I told him, leaning down and resting my hands on the arm of his chair and desk, and waited until his attention was fully on me, which only took point two-five seconds.
“Be careful, baby,” he told me.
“I will,” I rushed out, and on a whim, kissed his lips quickly and flew out the door before I could see the immense happiness on his face.
***
TUESDAY AND I MADE it to the local hair salon faster than I figured was safe due to her hazardous driving.
“You’re getting a trim and highlights,” she informed me, jumping out of her Jeep and sliding her arm through the crook of my elbow and strolling into the salon like she owned the place.
“Eddie, we’re here!” she announced to the room, despite other customers being in the salon and a few of them giving her dirty looks.
She ignored the dirty-lookers and walked farther in, finding who I assumed was Eddie and running over to give him a hug.
When she pulled away, Eddie strode right up to me and pulled me into an embrace.
He pulled away and said, “I know you don’t remember me, but you’ve been coming to me for about two years now. I always take good care of you. Now let’s get you in a chair and spice you up for that hunk of a man you have for a husband.”
Despite Eddie’s small frame, he packed a punch which I learned when he tugged my hand and I flew forward, almost tripping over my own feet until he forcefully pushed me into a salon chair.
“You already know what to do?” Tuesday asked Eddie.
Eddie scoffed, rolling his eyes and mockingly saying, “Do I know what to do? Tuesday, how long have you known me?”
“Yeah, yeah,” Tuesday admitted, giggling and sat in the chair next to me.
After a few moments of Eddie fussing with my hair and a petite dark-headed woman coming to Tuesday’s aid, she asked me, “So how did your date go? I want full details.”
Pink hit my cheeks and Eddie looked in the mirror at me and grinned. “Uh-oh. Something happened. Little miss here is trying to clam up.”
“Ah-ah!” Tuesday commanded. “You better not clam up on me. I want to hear it all.”
Biting my lip, I decided to change the subject. “I remembered something this morning, well, last night.”
“What?” Tuesday yelled, slapping her leg. “Bitch, you didn’t say a
nything on the ride over here.”
“Well, it was kind of hard to say anything when your radio was louder than my own thoughts,” I told her, giggling when she had the decency to look sheepish.
“Leave me alone. When Tarryn is in the car, which is the majority of the time, I can’t jam out. I take my jam sessions when I can get them.”
“Hey,” I held my hands up placatingly, “no complaints here. While I have no idea what we were listening to, you still have impeccable taste in music.”
Tuesday gave me a winning smile and asked, “Okay, what did you remember?”
With Eddie working on my hair, using dye every so often and then adding foil to it, I gave Tuesday the rundown of my memory, tears filling her eyes but never spilling over.
“I’m so happy for you,” she breathed when I was finished.
“Me too.” I beamed.
Before Tuesday could open her mouth and speak again, the woman on my left side spoke. “I hate to be intrusive, but I couldn’t help but overhear, did you lose your memories?”
I nodded, telling her, “A few weeks ago, I was in an accident that caused temporary memory loss. I woke up from a two-week coma and thought it was 2014. I also woke up to a husband I don’t remember marrying.”
“Oh my God, honey, I’m so sorry.”
The blond-haired woman gave me honest sympathy, but there was something else that was hidden behind her eyes that I couldn’t figure out.
“That’s okay. Things are getting better,” I pointed out, giving her a tight smile.
“I’m Olivia, by the way,” she said, reaching out to shake my hand.
“Henley,” I replied, giving her hand a firm shake.
The rest of our girl’s day was uneventful. After finishing with our hair, I looked in the mirror and was completely shocked at the results. My hair looked amazing, and it reminded me more of the girl in the wedding picture above my bed. My drab brown color was now transformed into a soft brown, with caramel-colored streaks running throughout. Before the trim, my hair rested just below my breasts, but now it was just past my shoulders.
Eddie had outdone himself, transforming me into a completely different person.
Next on Tuesday’s list was the nail salon.
She tried convincing me to get longer than I could function with acrylic nails, but I refused. I only needed a pedicure and some finger and toenail polish.
After everything was said and done with, Tuesday took me out for a late lunch date where she hounded me about Graham’s and my date until I finally caved and gave her everything. Tuesday would have made a great interrogator, having a way of pulling information out of people without breaking a sweat.
When we pulled back down my driveway, red and blue lights lit my white house up. Confusion wrinkled my brow, and I noticed Graham’s truck in the driveway.
Lead filled my stomach, making me nauseous.
I flew out of Tuesday’s Jeep faster than humanly possible, ignoring all of her shouts and rushing up my wraparound porch.
The only thing on my mind was making sure Graham was okay.
I couldn’t bear the thought of something happening to him.
“Graham!” I yelled when I entered my house, my steps faltering when I peeked into my living room and saw it trashed.
Everything was out of place, the couch cushions ripped to shreds, the lamps turned on their side, glass littering the floor, our flat-screen TV was on its face, the back completely smashed, as if someone took a baseball bat to it. On the wall, someone had spray painted “This isn’t over yet” in red.
Backing away slowly, not paying attention to where I was going, I bumped into something very hard, a loud squeak leaving my mouth before I turned and saw Graham’s bleak face. My own face crumbled with tears and I fell into Graham’s chest, his arms immediately wrapping around me, embracing me like a cocoon, exactly what I needed at that moment.
Suddenly, I was off my feet, still wrapped in Graham’s arms. I didn’t complain about being able to walk by myself. I wasn’t sure if I could stand on my own two feet.
Graham sat down and we were swinging slightly. He had taken me to the swing on our front porch.
“Wh… What happened?” I sniffled, hiccupping around my tears.
“We aren’t sure yet, baby. I promise we’ll get this figured out.”
I nodded, but I couldn’t lie and say I wasn’t scared.
I had no idea who would do this to our house. To my knowledge, we had no enemies.
Why would anyone want to break into our house, vandalize it, and then leave?
The next hour was a blur of events. Graham sat with me until I was calm enough to pack a bag. Graham refused to go back into the house until we had a security system installed and the living room cleared of the red letters on the wall and broken things on the floor. He informed me we were going to stay at a hotel, and he wasn’t sure how long we’d be there so “pack heavy” is what he told me.
While I was upstairs packing, I got lightheaded and began seeing images, like a montage, flit through my head. They were fuzzy, but it was definitely from the night of my accident. After the dizziness forced me to sit on the edge of my bed, I grabbed my head, trying to put it between my knees, remembering that I heard somewhere that it helped with being lightheaded.
Graham came into my fuzzy peripheral vision.
“Henley! Are you okay?” he asked, sounding frantic, while pulling my hands away from my face.
I had tunnel vision and my breathing started becoming erratic.
“I remember that night,” I huffed out, doing my best to do my breathing exercise to calm my heartbeat.
I knew I was on the verge of passing out and needed to chill.
The visions of that night kept playing through my head and I couldn’t stop them, no matter how tightly I screwed my eyes shut.
“Baby,” Graham’s voice said, sounding like he was talking through a funnel. “I need you to look at me.”
Unscrewing my eyes, I peered through my eyelashes, taking a few moments to focus on my handsome husband’s face.
“I need you to take deep breaths, baby,” he instructed, counting four in then four out.
Graham sat crouched in front of me, breathing in and out with me until I no longer felt like I was going to blackout. When he noticed I was calm he said, “Tell me what you remember.”
Inhaling one more time, I started. “It’s all fuzzy, I can’t make all the details out. I remember coming back from the store with your pie and being hit on the driver’s side. I remember the car flipping twice before it stopped upside down. Someone, and I can’t make out their face, came to the window and said ‘finally, it’s time you got some bad luck.’ It was a woman’s voice. I’m trying to focus on the face, but I can’t make it out. All I remember is seeing blue eyes.”
“It’s okay, baby,” he said, hugging me tightly. “No one is going to hurt you anymore,” he growled.
Nodding my head, I believed him. I knew with him by my side, no one could hurt me.
Several minutes later, when Graham assured that I was calm enough for him to leave me, he left the room, telling me to lie down while he told Roger what I had remembered. When he came back, he packed the rest of my things, gathering his stuff in the same duffel bag and held his hand out for me to grab.
We made it down the stairs; all the police activity seized, save for two officers in the living room and Roger standing by the front door.
“We’ll catch who did this,” Roger promised me.
I couldn’t say anything but nodded my head and continued out the front door and to the passenger’s side of Graham’s truck.
Nerves wracked my body as I climbed into my seat.
After remembering my accident, I was scared to get back in the car. Graham shut my door, throwing our duffel bag in the back seat and rounded the hood and climbed into his seat. Two minutes down the road and I needed to get as far away from the window as possible. I remembered the pain of my head hitting th
e glass several times before it broke; the glass flying all around me.
Scooting as close to the middle as my seatbelt would allow, I grabbed Graham’s hand that was resting on the gear shift and squeezed tightly. Graham looked down at me, giving me a tight smile, and looked back at the road.
We made it to the hotel in no time, and I was so grateful to be away from my house.
Graham and I walked into the office area of the hotel, Graham pulled out his card and asked for a room with two beds.
Silently tugging on the hand I was holding, I shook my head, indicating I didn’t want two beds.
I needed to be as close to him as humanly possible. I was afraid of having another panic attack if he were too far away.
Graham looked back at the desk clerk and amended his statement, telling her one queen bed. Knowing I was one step closer to being encompassed by Graham’s arms, I ignored the rest of their conversation and leaned heavily into his side, exhaustion taking over my body.
We made it to our room, Graham dropping the bag on the floor with a thud. All I could think about was falling face first in the bed.
“Can I have your shirt?” I asked Graham.
Without a reply, he immediately stripped the shirt off his body and handed it to me.
I moved to the bathroom, taking my clothes off, finally feeling free of the stressful day and dressed in my husband’s shirt, smelling the woodsy scent surround me and giving me some comfort. His shirt hit me mid-thigh, so I wasn’t worried about feeling indecent around Graham.
Not to mention the fact, he had already seen me naked, even if I didn’t remember it.
I opened the door to the bathroom and Graham’s eyes came to me. He was already lying in bed, and the stress of everything must have been written all over my face because he opened his arms and I rushed to the bed, sliding under the cover quickly and scooting closer to Graham until his arms circled me.
I felt all the tension leave my body and I melted into him.
Graham played with my hair for so long, I lost track of time, neither of us saying anything, knowing words didn’t need to be spoken.
While I hated that our house was broken into, I was glad the traumatic event brought us closer together.