Until Olivier, sleepy and relaxed, says, “I think this is going to help me start remembering.”
“What will?” Auriel asks.
“Emulating our relationship,” Olivier murmurs. And then he’s out like a light, leaving Auriel there, cuddling his lover, wondering what the fuck just happened.
6
Olivier
Over the next few days, Olivier finds himself wandering around the house, venturing out into the neighborhood, and even making his way into the city. He confronts Hattie about neglecting to mention his relationship with Auriel, and they have brief argument before Olivier realizes how much he needs her support. She introduces him to her friends from her Master’s program, all of whom are interesting and clever and well-read. It reminds Olivier of the last couple of years of college, when he was taking upper-division philosophy courses and the majority of his social interactions revolved around his classmates. It feels good to argue good-naturedly with Hattie’s friends about metaphysics in the dark, cool university library.
He goes on long walks, cataloguing the city and mapping it in his mind. He stumbles upon quaint coffee shops and quirky boutiques, tattoo parlors and hole-in-the-wall restaurants. Olivier wiles away long hours in the large park just a mile from his house. He watches ducks waddling around the perimeter of a small manmade pond before gracefully gliding into the water. He takes naps under large shady oak trees and watches joggers navigate the intricate paved paths.
Olivier expects Auriel to be around a lot, but he has pulled back. After their discussion in the master bedroom, Olivier fell into a deep, dreamless sleep, and when he awoke he was alone. Auriel didn’t return to their bed that night, and by the time Olivier roused himself the next morning Auriel was gone, presumably to work. He arrived back at the house in the evening, caked with dirt, and disappeared into the bathroom he had been sharing with Hattie before retreating to the guest room. The same thing happened the next day.
Not knowing the man well, Olivier has no idea if this is normal behavior for him. But there is something tugging at Olivier, telling him that Auriel is upset with him. He wonders if Auriel is just coming to terms with the fact that Olivier is not the man he was a few weeks ago. Auriel obviously liked Olivier better back before the accident, when his memory was intact and he was already in love with Auriel. Perhaps Auriel even feels like Olivier is just too much work at this point. After all, it can’t be easy having to explain every little thing to someone. Auriel has shown incredible patience up until now, but Olivier can’t expect that to go on forever. At some point the stream of generosity is going to dry up, and it seems like they might have reached that point.
Olivier goes back to the hospital to see Dr. Hersch on a Friday evening. Hattie goes with him, listening intently as the doctor evaluates Olivier’s progress. He doesn’t seem particularly worried about the wavering sensation in Olivier’s hand, assuring them that this kind of symptom is not uncommon after a traumatic brain injury, but he does give Olivier a referral to a physical therapist.
“I’m not concerned at this point,” Dr. Hersch says as he shakes Olivier’s hand at the end of the session. “Feel free to reach out if you have any concerns, but I think your recovery is coming along as well as we could have hoped.”
“Thank you,” Olivier says, following Hattie out the door.
They walk in silence to the parking lot, Olivier mulling over the appointment. Finally, as they reach the Lyft that Hattie called, she turns to him and says, “what’s going on with you and Auriel?”
Olivier shrugs, looking at the ground. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
She heaves a dramatic sigh and opens her door. “Listen, I know you’re pissed that I didn’t tell you about him, but I really thought I was doing the right thing. Don’t freeze me out now.”
“I’m not pissed at you,” Olivier mutters as he gets into the car. Hattie levels him with a look and he raises his hands above his head in the universal symbol for I’m innocent. “Seriously, I’m not.”
“You’re Hattie?” asks the driver.
“That’s me,” says Hattie. She turns to Olivier and adds, “in that case can you please pull your head out of your ass and tell me why I haven’t seen the two of you in the same room in the last couple of days?”
The driver pulls out of the parking lot and starts heading toward their house.
“I honestly have no idea why he’s not spending time with me. One minute we were making out and the next I was waking up by myself. We haven’t really spoken since then.” Olivier glances toward the driver, feeling self-conscious talking about making out with a guy in front of a complete stranger. But the driver is fiddling with the radio, apparently ignoring the conversation going on in the back seat.
Hattie considers Olivier’s words. “Did you guys argue? You might have said something that upset him, or—”
“Gee, thanks,” says Olivier.
“Oh come on, you know what I mean. He’s a pretty sensitive guy and you’re…”
“A Grade A asshole, I know.”
“That’s not what I was trying to say,” Hattie says, her patience beginning to wane. “I’m just trying to figure out if anything happened that you should maybe, I don’t know, talk out with him?”
“I really can’t think of anything,” Olivier replies. His stomach sinks as he voices his next thought. “Maybe he’s just not into me anymore.” Hattie raises an eyebrow. “No, hear me out,” says Olivier. “He and I dated for like two years, and I developed all these new interests and came out and according to him we fell in love. But I’m not that guy anymore, I don’t remember ever being that guy, so he probably just doesn’t want to waste his time trying to get me there. And like, there aren’t even any guarantees that I’ll ever be the person he wants me to be.”
Hattie stares at Olivier for a moment and then says loudly, “we’re going to have to make a stop.”
“Where at?” asks the driver. His tone is completely neutral, and Olivier can’t quite parse out whether or not he’s been listening in.
“There’s a coffee shop up here on the left. Just pull into the parking lot and idle for a second, I’ll be right back.”
The car pulls up to the curb outside a cute café, and Hattie heads inside. She reappears less than five minutes later with Stella in tow, and the two of them get into the car.
“Are we still heading to the place on 14th?” asks the driver.
“Nope,” says Hattie. “We need to be dropped off at the Rose’s Thorn pronto.” Which is how Olivier ends up taking shots while sitting on a sturdy loveseat on the second story of a Victorian house that has been converted into a bar. Hattie’s sipping on whiskey and ginger ale, but Stella has talked Olivier into drinking tequila.
They each get a couple of drinks into them before Stella leans toward Olivier and says, “care to tell me why Hattie dragged me away from work?”
“Shit, you were working?” Olivier asks.
“I was,” Stella replies, reaching over to steal Hattie’s drink and taking a quick swig. “As far as my boss is concerned I developed a horrible migraine about twenty minutes ago. So, since we’re eating my PTO here, spill.”
Olivier looks helplessly at Hattie, but she just inclines her head toward Stella, prompting him to explain.
“God,” groans Olivier, “I don’t even know where to start. I just…it looks like I managed to scare Auriel away or something.”
Stella snorts. “Unlikely, but go on.”
“Don’t patronize me,” snaps Olivier.
“Then don’t give me a reason to,” Stella shoots back.
It’s nice to have someone who is willing to go head-to-head with Olivier, and he almost wishes he were emotionally capable of telling her that. But instead he rolls his eyes and says, “alright, fine. I found out that you’ve all been lying to me, and apparently he and I were together or whatever.”
“Well done, Encyclopedia Brown. How’d you work that out?” asks Stella.
“Yeah, I figured that was probably going to happen sooner or later.” Stella takes another sip of Hattie’s drink and then hands it back. “So, I assume you confronted him.”
Olivier nods. “I kind of gave him hell for it at first, but then he, um…”
“He got all soppy,” Stella guesses. “God, he’s such a sap, I love him so much. So he told you all about the perfect little life you’ve built together and then you…what?”
“They made out,” Hattie says helpfully.
Olivier sighs loudly, and Stella laughs.
“You two never could keep your hands off of each other. I mean, at first you were all restrained and cautious and closeted, kind of like you’re being right now.”
“Hey!” Olivier protests, but it’s clear that Stella doesn’t mean anything bad by it.
“I’m just telling it like it is, kid. It took a while for your ice to melt, but once you allowed yourself to just let go and stop caring so much about what other people thought, you fell hard for him.”
This is essentially what Auriel told Olivier a couple of days ago, but it’s still strange to hear it from someone else. Especially from someone else who was there, witnessing this grand transformation that Olivier apparently went through.
“Well now he’s the one with ice, apparently, because he’s barely said a word to me in days.” Olivier can hear the hurt in his own voice, and it takes him by surprise. Because obviously he hasn’t enjoyed the radio silence from Auriel, but he hadn’t realized that he’d actually been upset by it. And now that there’s a leak in his dam of emotions, Olivier can sense more and more feelings preparing to spill out.
Stella is considering his words. “Did something happen that might have prompted this?” she asks.
“I honest to God can’t think of anything,” says Olivier.
“I’m going to get another round,” Hattie announces before downing the rest of her drink.
“So,” says Stella once they’re alone. “Feel free to tell me to fuck off with this, but did you have a good reason for kissing Auriel? Because it seems like you don’t actually like him that much.”
“Excuse me?” says Olivier.
“Like I said, maybe it’s none of my business.” And then she just stares at him. Olivier has never been good at staying silent in the face of a captive audience, and he’s annoyed that Stella clearly knows this about him.
“The way he described it, I’m getting the impression that he was a really big part of my life,” Olivier says after a moment. Stella nods encouragingly, and Olivier goes on. “I mean, I get it kind of. Why I was attracted to him when we first met. He’s incredibly hot and so damn attentive. He cooks me these amazing meals even after working all day. But I don’t really understand how I fell in love with him.”
“Which begs the question, why did you decide to kiss him?”
Olivier sighs. “I just feel like my past self made choices, and he developed into a certain person because of those choices. I don’t want to be stuck in my own past, you know? I want to get back to the future I apparently chose. And I think the best way to do that is by doing all the things I used to do. Maybe that will even kick start my memory, who knows?”
Something in Stella’s expression hardens, and when she speaks again her tone is laced with anger. “Did you tell Auriel that you were only kissing him because you feel like it will somehow cure you?”
“Hey, wait, that’s not fair,” objects Olivier.
“Isn’t it?” asks Stella.
“I’m not, like, using him. Not really,” Olivier argues. “I just think—”
“It’s pretty clear what you think,” says Stella coolly. “You’re under the impression that playing house with Auriel will heal you. I’m going to say this one time, Olivier, and you’re going to think long and hard about it: Auriel will never love another person the way he loves you. He is not someone who lets his guard down easily, but he is literally unable to keep his defenses up around you. You need to think long and hard before you take advantage of that, because you will destroy him if you give him hope and then cut him loose.”
Olivier is at a loss for words. He sits there, mulling that over, until Hattie comes back with a round tequila shots.
“What did I miss?” she asks, sitting down across from Olivier.
“Nothing that needs to be rehashed,” says Stella. “What should we drink to?”
Olivier is silent. His gut is twisting and he feels profoundly guilty. The night devolves into him half listening to Hattie and Stella as they chat about things he only kind of understands. For the most part, though, he’s stewing in his own thoughts, trying to parse out what he should do with regard to Auriel.
It takes most of the next day for Olivier to get his courage up. Auriel is home since it’s a Saturday, but he spends the entire morning puttering around in the garden. Olivier stays in bed until noon, periodically glancing out the window to see what Auriel is up to in the back yard. Hattie texts him to say that she’s going out with her classmates, but that he can call if he needs anything. Olivier thinks dully that he needs a do-over.
When he finally manages to convince himself to get up and face the day, he procrastinates the conversation that he knows has to happen by taking a long shower, looking through all of his clothes before settling on an outfit, and spending an inordinate amount of time doing his hair. When he runs out of ways to put it off, he walks to the back door and makes his way into the yard.
Auriel is lying in the large, sturdy hammock that hangs between two Douglas Firs. He’s immersed in The Gay Metropolis and doesn’t notice Olivier until he’s standing right beside him.
“Hey,” Auriel says, laying the open book down on his chest and meeting Olivier’s eyes for what feels like the first time in forever.
“Hi,” says Olivier. He fights the urge to look down at his feet.
“Did you need something?” Auriel prompts, although he doesn’t sound angry. Just…closed off maybe.
Olivier clears his throat. “I wanted to talk to you. About the other day.”
“Oh,” says Auriel. He picks up his books again, dog-ears the page he was reading, and sets it gently on the ground beneath the hammock. He doesn’t get up, but he is giving Olivier his whole attention.
“I guess I, um, owe you an apology,” Olivier starts. “And I’m sorry it took me a while to work up to it. I’m not always the most emotionally astute person.”
That gets a laugh out of Auriel. “I’m well aware. Don’t worry, I’m not expecting you to be.”
“Right,” says Olivier. “I just…I shouldn’t have kissed you. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I wanted to kiss you. I wasn’t humoring you or anything.”
“Thank God for that,” Auriel deadpans.
“No, listen, I fucked up. I thought that going back to everything I used to do in my old life might help me remember, but it wasn’t okay for me to drag you into that. You don’t deserve that.”
Auriel considers this for a moment before he speaks. His arms are crossed and he hunches in slightly, as though he’s trying to protect himself from this conversation. The hammock sways lightly in the breeze. “I would love for you to remember. That’s what I want more than anything else in the world. But I don’t think it works that way, Olivier, and it’s breaking my heart to realize that you only want to be with me because you think it will fix your head injury.” His voice breaks, and he looks away from Olivier, running a hand over his face.
It takes Olivier’s breath away, in that moment, how brave this man is. And beautiful, too. His devotion and vulnerability are sitting there, in plain sight, and Olivier wants to reach out and touch them. He wishes he knew this man intimately again, and that takes him by surprise.
“Tell me what I can do to make this better,” Olivier says, realizing with embarrassment that his voice is shaking.
Auriel lets out a choked sound that might be a laugh or a sob. “I’
m supposed to be the one saying that,” he points out hoarsely.
“Well, I’m not the only one who needs to be looked after, okay?”
“Okay.”
They’re silent for a minute, and then Auriel turns so that he’s sitting on one end of the hammock, his feet digging into the ground. He points to the other side of the hammock and Olivier sits down gingerly. There are several inches of space between them, and the tension is palpable.
“I wasn’t pretending to be attracted to you, you know,” Olivier says.
“Yeah, I know,” Auriel says with a sigh.
“I’m kind of a mess right now,” Olivier admits.
Auriel laughs. “What tipped you off?”
“God, this whole situation blows,” mutters Olivier.
“I’m not going to argue with that.”
Auriel pushes his heel against the ground, rocking the hammock back and forth. The sensation is soothing, and Olivier closes his eyes. Maybe it’s the fact that he can’t see Auriel, but suddenly he feels more courageous. “I want to tell you something, and I need you to know that I’m not trying to manipulate you or string you along.”
“Okay,” says Auriel.
“I still don’t understand everything that happened over the last couple of years. But I’ve thought about this a lot, and I think I can trust the decisions I made. Does that make any sense?” asks Olivier.
Auriel makes a noncommittal sound.
“Probably not,” says Olivier. “But I just want you to know that I can kind of see how I got the point where I loved you. And I know it’s not fair to jump back into things when I’m still figuring out how I feel. But I just want you to know that I believe my feelings were real, even if I can’t access them anymore.”
Auriel reaches out and grasps Olivier’s arm lightly. “What are you saying?” he asks.
Olivier keeps his eyes closed. “I’m saying that I’m letting you go. But I don’t want you to feel like that decision invalidates anything we said or did before I lost my memories.”
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