Forget Me Not

by Tyler, Q. B.

  “I…” She sniffles. “I want to see my child. Right now.” She points at the ground, and I give him a look that says, see what you did?

  “Olivia, I don’t know what that look is for, but I’m here now, so you can go. I know you may not care, but I certainly do,” she says snidely.

  “I care,” I tell her. “I was still married to him for almost seven years.”

  “Shame, all that time wasted.”

  “Enough, Caroline.” Wren speaks up and I know that he’s typically the peacekeeper and usually polite, so I’m surprised at his comment, although I know that he’s very familiar with our relationship.

  “Wren, dear, try to understand my perspective. She left my poor son after she failed to give him any children.” She pulls out a compact and dabs at her eyes before sliding it back inside her Chanel bag. Her eyes flit to mine and for a second, I see a bit of regret over her choice of words beneath her green eyes that match Bennett’s, but just as quick as I see it, it’s gone and I’m left with the usual contempt she has for me.

  “God, you’re hateful,” I whisper. “I am sorry your son fell for me.” And it’s true. I’m sorry. It certainly would have saved me six months of what was quite possibly the worst pain I’ve ever felt. “Really, I’m sorry, but we are over. So, you’re getting your wish.” I nod at her.

  “That’s not what Bennett wants,” Wren growls. “And frankly, Caroline, he’d be about ready to throw you out of here for speaking to Liv that way, so cool it.” He rubs at his jaw and shakes his head. “You’ve become impossible since Mr. C died, and it’s awful and sad and I know you’re hurting, but lay off.”

  “Don’t be rude, Wren.” She glowers at him like he’s a child, but Wren stands his own.

  “Oh, hello pot, I’m kettle, pleased to meet you.” He raises an eyebrow at her as if to scold her right back. “I’m going to take Olivia in to see her husband because that’s what Ben would want.”

  She huffs and rubs her hands down her vintage Dior black dress and sits on the bench. “I’ll wait here. If you could bring me some water though, that would be wonderful. Preferably a Perrier?”

  I let out a sigh as I follow Wren into the dim, stuffy room. The shades are drawn, and it’s nearing dusk in September, which means it’ll be dark within thirty minutes. The soft hum of the monitors is the only sound in the room other than my heels clicking against the floor as I move closer to his bedside. There’s a bandage wrapped around his head, a few cuts and bruises on his cheeks, but for the most part, his face is unscathed. I note a nasty burn on his neck, assumedly from his seatbelt and I wince as I run my fingertips over the skin. Various cuts and bruises scatter his arms, and I’m grateful that he doesn’t have any broken bones. “Oh, Clarke.” Immediately, my brain recognizes the nickname and the fact that I haven’t called him that in months. When we were dating, I called him that, and it just stuck even though I now share his last name.

  Well not for much longer.

  “We thought we needed to intubate him, but he’s breathing fine on his own. He’s going to be okay, Liv.” I feel Wren’s hand on my shoulder. “I’m going to go deal with the ice queen out there and give you a minute.”

  I wait until I hear the soft click of the door shutting before I succumb to the tears I’ve been holding in and let them slide silently down my cheeks. “I’m so angry at you,” I whisper, grateful to have this time to speak what I’m feeling without his reply. “But you’re not allowed to die.” I look towards the monitors that are beeping monotonously. “You’re not allowed to…” I let out a breath. “Well you left me already but as angry as I am, I don’t want you to die. I want you to be happy,” I add and that’s taken months of self-reflection and meditation and the most expensive therapist in the tri-state area for me to get to this moment.

  I want you to be happy.

  Even if it’s not with me.

  A commotion outside the door has my mother-in-law pushing through the door and Wren shooting me a look. “You cannot be in here if you are going to act like this,” Wren tells her. “I will have you removed.”

  “It’s fine.” I wipe my eyes and nose and move slowly towards the door when I hear my name whispered so faintly. Under normal circumstances, I may not have heard it, but my ears, my body, my heart are so trained to hear this name, I could probably hear it even if he only thinks it.

  “Livi.”

  The goosebumps rise all over my arms and legs instantly, that one word, chilling me to the bone but also setting me ablaze. He always called me Livi. It was his thing, and it made me feel special that he called me something no one else did.

  I swallow hard, turning slowly and meeting those familiar green eyes that I hadn’t seen since our last mediation over a week ago. I can’t stop the smile that pulls at my lips to see that he’s awake and more importantly, alive. Or possibly because he’s staring at me with those eyes I know all too well. A gaze so intense, it’s like he’s almost afraid to blink for fear that I’ll disappear.

  “Oh my God, Benny!” Our moment is interrupted by his mother, of course. And I blink away from him, to watch as his mother bombards his space and all but throws her body on top of his. “My sweetheart, you’re okay! You’re alive! I was so worried.” She pulls back and holds his face, doing her best to turn his gaze towards her, but they’re still locked on me. I nervously look at Wren, hoping that he’ll say something to break the tension, but he just alternates from staring at Bennett and me.

  Well, someone speak? Besides the wicked witch of the Upper East Side that is.

  “Why are you all the way over there?” He nods at me. I can see the hurt in his eyes and hear it in his question. He winces slightly as he turns his hand palm up, assumedly so I’ll hold it and I move a little closer to not make the situation more tense.

  I guess the man did just come out of a coma, I suppose I could hold his hand.

  I slide my hand into his and instantly feel that spark that’s never seemed to wane between us. His hand is large and warm wrapped around mine as his thumb rubs my knuckles gently. I drop my gaze to where our hands are adjoined.

  How is it that something so simple can have me feeling like the walls are closing in?

  I suddenly feel too hot and the energy swirling around me is almost stifling. Even though my heart is broken, and my brain comprehends this, my hormones are raging and my sex pulses slightly. It’s like my heart and sex are at war with each other over which could beat faster, and right now, my heart is losing badly.

  “What the hell happened?” He looks at me, his eyes tracing me over. “You weren’t with me.” It sounds like a statement of relief, but also a question.

  I shake my head. “I—I don’t know exactly what happened. Wren may have a better explanation.”

  “Right. Car accident,” Wren chimes in, “and we can go over all the details of what this means for you because you did give us quite a scare, but for now I need you to look into this light for me.” He brushes past me, but Bennett refuses to let go of my hand.

  His gaze is still fixed on me, despite Wren flashing a small flashlight into his eyes and tension zips through my body as his green stare into my brown. I feel like I’m starting to get light headed by how little I’m breathing. I let out a breath and try to pull my hand from his when he grips it tighter, his eyebrows furrowing deeper. “I need a moment with Olivia.”

  “Ben—” his mother starts and his gaze snaps to hers angrily.

  “Mother, I’m fine. You can see that. I just need a moment alone with my girl.”

  Caroline’s eyes flit to me, and for a second, I peer over my shoulder, wondering if his girlfriend has somehow manifested.

  I’d kill her.

  He can’t mean me? He must be out of it.

  “Wren,” he says with as much conviction as he can muster, “two minutes.”

  Wren nods, as he grabs his chart and takes one final glance at the monitor before ushering Caroline out of the room much to her protest. “Two minutes, and the
n we need to run some tests, so don’t get comfortable.”

  “Not likely,” Bennett grumbles and lets his eyes flutter closed. “Fuck.” He sighs. “Everything fucking hurts.” His eyes open slowly and he smiles again when he meets my gaze. He tugs me gently and the quick movement sends a lightning bolt zipping down my spine. “Are you alright?” He asks as he runs his hand up my arm and massaging my forearm gently.

  What the fuck?

  “You were in a car accident, and you’re asking me if I’m alright?” I smile despite my discomfort over his touch and he chuckles slightly before wincing.

  He lifts his chin slightly. “Give me a kiss.”

  “What?” Did I hear him correctly?

  He looks down at himself and then at me, cocking an eyebrow in that sexy way that used to make me wet instantly. “I was in a car accident, and I guess a coma? Come give me a fucking kiss, Olivia. I’m rather surprised you didn’t attack me the second I woke up. But that’s why I got rid of my mother.” He licks his lips, and I watch the muscle I used to be very familiar with in fascination until I remember what he’s asking.

  I finally pull out of his grasp and my expression morphs into irritation. “You know what? I’m not doing this with you right now. I’m happy you’re okay. But I’m not going to let you manipulate me any more than you already have.” I shake my head and run a hand through my mahogany waves. “It can’t always be about you, Bennett.”

  “Wait, what the fuck?” His face looks like I’ve slapped him, and maybe I should have left off that last part. I mean he is hurt. But I refuse to let him suck me into this based on sympathy. “Who’s manipulating anyone? Because I want my wife to kiss me?” He glares at me and I notice his jaw ticking meaning he’s gritting his teeth. I used to say his jaw was so sharp it could cut through glass and right now it looks like it’s ready to cut through me.

  “Don’t call me that,” I say as forcefully as I can, though I fear it comes out more like a plea.

  “Call you what? My wife? What would you prefer I call you?” The agitation radiates off of him in waves and I’m instantly affected. It’s how it’s always been. His reactions and his body language have the power to control my moods. It’s why just his smile could make me feel like I’m on top of the world, and when we’re fighting, which was rare when we were married, I could feel like I was literally underneath it. The same went for him, which is why I know he’s so agitated.

  But why is he agitated over…this?

  “I haven’t been your wife in quite some time, Bennett, can you not do this?”

  His eyes widen and narrow in anger. “You take that back. How dare you say that to me.” His voice is low and filled with fury and washes over me, sending shivers down my spine.

  I press a hand to my forehead, trying to rub away the stress lines that are forming. “Bennett, why are you acting like this?”

  “Acting like what, and what the fuck is up with you calling me Bennett?” I can tell his patience is wearing thin and I’m not trying to poke the bear, but I’m exhausted and officially over this back and forth.

  “Like you don’t…” I freeze, my mind slowly running through every TV show, movie, and book that involves head trauma. “Ummm…” I bite my bottom lip and clear my throat steeling myself for the question about to fall from my lips. “What day is it?”

  “I don’t know? Tuesday? Livi, you’re acting strange as hell and in case you couldn’t guess, I’m kind of not in the mood.” He rolls his eyes and throws his head back against his pillow.

  “Year.” I choke out.

  “What?”

  “What year is it?” I ask softly and realize I’m now holding my breath as I wait for his answer.

  He looks around the room before settling back on me and I wonder if he’s figuring out where I’m going with this line of questioning because he takes a few moments before he replies. “Are you serious right now? It’s 2017, what are you getting at?”

  It feels like the wind has been knocked out of me. The blood rushes to my ears and I take a step back, as I try my best to catch my breath. My hands begin to shake and before I can think, I’m bent over as I take slow breaths in and out. I’m vaguely aware of him saying my name, telling me to breathe, and calling for Wren but I block it out.

  Two years.

  He doesn’t remember two years.

  Two years ago, Bennett and I were happy.

  Two years ago, Bennett and I had been married for five years and we were still very much in the honeymoon phase. We couldn’t be in a room without being on top of each other. Our sex life couldn’t be more passionate and carnal and we were talking about taking our family from two to three.

  When hands find my shoulders and help me to stand up straight, I see Wren’s eyes fixed on me. “I think you’re having a panic attack.” He holds a bag up to my face and I shake my head before I turn to the bedridden man who looks as if he’s about to rip out his IVs to get to me.

  “Baby, you’re scaring the shit out of me, what’s going on?” Bennett’s eyes are wide, his nostrils flaring and he’s flexing his hands every few seconds, a sign he wants to touch me but can’t.

  Wren’s eyes slowly move to his, probably in question of hearing the term of endearment he called me before turning his gaze back to me. “Uh-huh!” I answer his unspoken question.

  “Am…am I missing something?” He pushes his glasses to the top of his head, confusion written all over his face, and I shake my head in response.

  Are you back together? I can practically hear him asking.

  “No.”

  He turns to Bennett and pulls his flashlight out again. “B, what’s going on, man?”

  “You tell me? I’m fine, but Livi looks like she’s about to lose it. Stop fussing over me, I’m fine. What’s going on with her?” He tries to look at me again. “Come over here.”

  I ignore his command, even though somewhere deep inside, my body wants to listen. He still knows how to make my body respond to his voice and I hate the traitorous feeling. “Wren, can I talk to you outside?”

  “Outside? What for? If this is a joke, I am far from amused.” Bennett groans rubbing a scraped up hand through his luscious chestnut hair. Wren and I are silent as we watch him slide his left hand out of his hair and stare at it for a second. “Hey, hand me my ring, will you? It feels so strange not having it on.” He rubs the finger. “I’m kind of surprised I don’t see the indent of it.”

  I look at Wren, my eyes widening as if to say, you see! “Okay, alright, B, humor me for a second alright?” He crosses his arms and stares at him. “Just need to do a couple things. Name. Birthday. Where do you live?”

  He rolls his eyes. “Bennett Clarke. March 23, 1980. In SoHo. I have a very expensive, overpriced three bedroom apartment that I share with my wife Olivia Clarke, are you happy?” He meets my gaze and gives me a small smile, though it fades when I’m sure he sees the look of pure horror on my face.

  “Alright.” He nods and turns towards me. “So, we’ll run a couple tests. An MRI and potentially a CAT scan. Everything’s going to be fine. This is normal. It’ll probably restore over the next few hours. Confusion is very common in these situations.”

  “Confusion?” Bennett snorts. “I’m not confused. Livi, did I make any of that up?” I don’t know what to say as he looks me over and I suddenly feel the overwhelming need to sit down. “Fuck. Wren, get her some water.”

  I shake my head. “I—I’m fine.”

  “You need to drink some water,” he commands, and I feel a sense of nostalgia wash over me hearing his words. He was always telling me to drink more water. “Wren, get her some. If she passes out, I’ll kick your ass. Fuck all of this.” He waves at the monitors and the wires hooked up to him.

  There’s a chair to the right of his bed, and before I can think I’m lowering myself onto the hard uncomfortable cushion, feeling the weight of the day physically pressing down on my shoulders. Wren hands me a glass of water and I take a slow tentative sip becau
se I’m not sure I won’t be sick at any second. “Good girl.” I hear Bennett using that voice and it instantly breathes life into me.

  The voice he uses when I’m sick and he’s taking care of me. The voice he uses when he’s taking care of me that way.

  Fuck fuck fuck.

  He’s fucking with me.

  This is all a dream.

  There’s no way he thinks we’re still married.

  That we’re still happy.

  I look up at him and he nods, telling me to drink more and despite not wanting to obey him, I comply. He lets out a sigh and shakes his head. “You drive me crazy, Mrs. Clarke.”

  Hearing him call me that makes the dam burst, and suddenly the tears are flying down my face. I don’t look up but I hear him moving and Wren trying to keep him on the bed. “Let me fucking go, Wren. Why is she crying? Why is she so fucking upset? What the fuck is going on? Someone better start talking right now.”

  One of the machines begins to beep rapidly. My lip trembles as Wren tries to appease him. “Your blood pressure is skyrocketing, you need to calm the fuck down, B.”

  “Don’t tell me to calm the fuck down. Look at Olivia! No one is telling me anything and you know what seeing her upset does to me.”

  I squeeze my eyes together even harder. Stop talking. Stop talking. Stop talking.

  “Please just stop, Bennett.” I cry. “Stop.” I stand up on shaky legs and prepare to tell him the truth, just so that he’ll stop pushing down all of the carefully constructed walls I’d put up in the past six months. “We’re getting a divorce. We’re…we’re not together.” I bite my bottom lip as his face morphs from confusion to sadness to anger to confusion again all within the span of a second. And then he’s laughing. Hard.

  And it reminds me I haven’t heard him laugh like this in a while. A true hearty laugh that used to make my heart smile. “Oh my God, laughing hurts like a bitch, but I can’t help it.” He pinches the bridge of his nose and wipes his eyes. “That was cute, honey. But when I’m better, I’m taking you the fuck over my knee for using the d word.”