Memorized

by Alyne Roberts

  After my session, I take the bus back home. As much as Willow's condition intrigues me, I don't know if I am willing to get that close to her. I like to keep to myself. Every person I get close to unfortunately has the task of never letting me down. Without being able to forget, I can't forgive either. Every encounter is stored in my mind, ready for endless replays.

  If she truly never regains her past, there will be nothing for me to work with. If the opposite happens and she remembers, I will be the one she turns to for support. I can tell from the desperate way she reached out to me today that she is unable to remain unattached while she's so vulnerable. I don't know what she is hiding from, but it will undoubtedly tear her apart. I'm not interested in what happened to her; I just want to know how she blocks it out.

  When I finally walk into my apartment, I'm assaulted with a burning smell. My younger brother, Aaron, is pulling a dish out of the oven. Whatever it was, it's past edible, charred to a crisp. A thin layer of smoke lingers in the air and a smoke alarm starts to go off. He curses, drops the pan in the sink, and runs to pull the battery out of the annoying device.

  "Honey, I'm home," I call once the beeping cuts off.

  "Sorry, man," he apologizes. "I was starving."

  "Order something, kid," I tease him. He flicks me off as I pass him to the fridge.

  Aaron is one of the few people I can tolerate for an extended amount of time. He understands me and never makes me feel like a freak. My own mom struggled to understand the way I worked. Even though she loved me and would never have admitted it, part of me thinks I scared her a little, being able to store away every little detail. I was a freak of nature. I remember every time she looked at me with fear and confusion.

  Aaron curses a few more times as he burns himself trying to clean up the disaster left from his attempt at cooking. I pop the top off a beer bottle, take a sip, and watch him try to hide the evidence. We rarely cook for ourselves unless it's in a microwave. I didn't even know the oven worked in this place. Once the charred remains are washed away down the disposal, he finally turns to face me. I try to hide my laugh as I lean against the counter and offer him a beer.

  "Thanks," he mumbles before taking a drink. "Go out or order pizza?"

  I purse my lips as I think about it. We could head to the pub on the corner. I could fill my stomach and maybe find a woman to keep me company for the night. With all the tension built up between school and my thesis, I've been more on edge than usual. Alcohol would numb my brain and dim my mind for the night. A stranger would satisfy me and if I’m lucky I might not remember her too well tomorrow morning.

  "Pizza," I answer. I don't have the energy to make nice or to try to wash away my thoughts. It rarely works and avoiding situations I don't want to replay is the safest choice right now.

  I shower and dress in a pair of flannel pants while I wait for the food to arrive. I make sure all of my textbooks are stacked on my desk and plug my phone in to charge. My thoughts are all over the place, and I just want to sit down and relax with my brother. For tonight, I don't want to think about classes, my thesis, the pretty girl from the cafe, or the fact that I keep relaying our meeting over and over.

  I enter the living room just as Aaron is closing the front door, pizza in hand. He already has two plates on the coffee table. I sit on the worn leather couch and flip the TV to a sports channel. Our place is small and cheap, but nice enough. We have a decent kitchen with dated appliances, but they work. Our couch was bought used, but free of tears and stains. The coffee table came with the place, made of sturdy, dark wood, and hasn't collapsed on us yet.

  Aaron is a bartender at a bar downtown and used his first check to buy the large flat screen TV we are watching hockey on. Only working weekends, he earns good money in tips alone. When our mom died of cancer a couple years ago, we inherited enough in life insurance to live off of while I attend college. Aaron decided not to go to college and chose to work to have extra money to live off.

  "You decide what to do for your thesis yet?" Aaron asks with a mouthful of food.

  "Not yet," I mumble. Why is everyone so concerned with my thesis?

  "Just curious," he says, sensing the irritation in my voice.

  "Sorry," I apologize. "Dr. Mason was just on me about it today, too. He wants me to study this girl of his."

  "Same as you?" he asks, wide eyed.

  "No," I say, shaking my head. There were only about sixty of us known in the world. "Amnesia."

  He grunts in understanding as he swallows. "Could be interesting. She hot?"

  I bump him with my shoulder and glare at him. His shit-eating grin breaks my concentration and I laugh along with him. "Maybe. She has it bad, though. I don't know if there's much for me study."

  "How bad?" Aaron has always been interested in my life and my studies. He’s smart enough to go through college, just doesn’t have the desire to. Either way, I’m always grateful to have someone to talk to.

  "Lost three years. Been over a month and nothing is coming back yet," I sigh. "Post-traumatic."

  Aaron nods and remains quiet while he processes his thoughts. "What happened to her?"

  I shrug. "Something bad enough it cemented over her mind."

  Noah comes straight to my apartment once his flight lands in Atlanta. I'm relieved to see a familiar face and have someone to talk to. I spent the last two days without him, exploring my life by going through old emails and texts, all my drawers, and walking the city. I find another email account I can’t access and Google the doctor that prescribed the antidepressants I found. Nothing gives me the spark of memories I had hoped for, but I did gain some insight into my past.

  After moving to Georgia for college, I changed. I don't know what girl Noah fell in love with, though. Did he love me before I changed majors, gave up music, and started taking antidepressants? Was he in love with the girl that became obsessed with her looks, shopping, and social status? Did it not bother him that he needed to support me?

  "How was your trip?" I ask him as he wraps me up in a hug.

  "It was good," he says with a smile. "This corporate location will be extremely profitable. How are you?"

  The concern in his eyes makes me feel guilty. He wants to know that I'm okay, that everything is back to normal. I want so badly to tell him what he needs to hear. Unfortunately, I can't pretend to be the old me since I don't even know her.

  "I'm good," I assure him firmly. "I even got a job," I add with pride.

  "A job? Why?"

  Pulling away, I play with my fingers to avoid his confused face. "I was bored doing nothing all day. Plus, I don't want you to have to do everything for me."

  Noah sighs and pushes his fingers through his hair. "Sweetheart, I want to take care of you. I want to make sure you have everything you would ever need." He steps closer, wrapping his arms around my waist. I let him pull me into his chest, and I inhale his cologne.

  "I just need something to keep me busy," I say into his suit jacket. I feel him nod as his arms tighten around me.

  "Whatever you need, baby."

  I melt into him. Noah's concern and understanding is priceless to me. Even as a stranger, he is all that I have. He is my only friend, and even more so my support system. If I could regain any memories, I want them to be with him. If I could have those back, we could start where we left off. I wouldn't need to feel like such a burden and the guilt would lessen.

  "Let me take you out tonight," he suggests, interrupting the silence. "I want to take you back to where we had our first date."

  I pull away and look up into his face. His eyes are light and full of hope. Full lips pull into a gentle smile and the freckles on the bridge of his nose make me feel safe. I can't help but think my parents would have loved him. I nod and watch in fascination as his smile grows into a huge grin and two deep dimples appear. He is too handsome for his own good. I don't think I could ever say no to that face.

  "I'll be back to pick you up at eight then," he says before kissin
g me on the cheek.

  When Noah is gone, I go to the massive closet and search for something to wear. I wish I had asked what I wore on our first date. Maybe it would help stimulate my memory. Instead, I run my fingers over the dresses that are sorted by color. I stop when I find one in a deep green shade. I pull it out and finger the silky material. The neck plunges low and ties around my neck, exposing a decent amount of my back.

  The distraction of showering, doing my hair and makeup, and finding shoes is needed. For several hours, I'm able to focus on something other than my memories, or lack thereof. Once I figure out how, I connect my phone to the Bluetooth speakers installed throughout the whole apartment. I shimmy and dance around my bathroom while I straighten my hair.

  My stomach flutters with a mixture of nerves and excitement. This is my first date with Noah, well for me anyway. Will he still like me if I don't remember all the things we had been through? Three years is a long time. A lot can happen in that timeframe. It can tear couples apart or bond them closer together. Whatever happened with us, I don't want or need to redo it.

  A knock on the door sounds exactly at eight and I open the door and find Noah holding a bouquet of red roses. His hair is slicked back and he’s wearing a crisp, black suit. His white shirt is unbuttoned at the top, and he looks amazingly confident and calm as he takes up my doorway. His grin is infectious as I smile and take the flowers from him.

  "Thank you," I tell him. "They're beautiful."

  Noah follows me into the kitchen. After a few minutes of searching, I find a white ceramic vase and put the flowers in it. My hands shake while I try to arrange the roses quickly.

  "Willow," Noah says softly, "don't be nervous."

  "Sorry," I whisper with a weak laugh. "I feel ridiculous."

  "Don't, baby," he tells me as he steps toward me, taking my hands into his. "Everything will be fine. I promise."

  I nod and mentally chastise myself for being so weak. I need to believe he's right, that it will be okay. Pulling away from Noah, I grab my bag and keys. I am going to face tonight like the girl I used to know. The girl who didn't scare easily from a challenge, who could hold herself together and would never give up. With my silent pep talk, I'm ready to go.

  Noah's car is waiting for us when we come out of the building. Always the gentleman, Noah opens the door, sliding in behind me once I am seated in the back. The driver is the same man who drove us from the hospital. I wonder if he is always Noah's driver or if he has several on his staff. There's so much I still don't know about him. I don't even know where he lives.

  I watch as the city passes by with its bright lights, crowds filtering out of clubs and restaurants, and street performers. I spend time walking the streets during the day, but the city takes on a new life at night. It’s full of energy, promises, and action. I envy the groups of young women as they cling to each other on the way to their next adventure. Their smiles and laughter make me feel even more alone.

  We soon pull up to a tall building and our driver comes around to open the door. The gold-framed door of the restaurant is flanked with two men in expensive suits. They rush to pull open the double doors as we approach. Noah keeps his hand on my lower back, teasing the bare skin revealed by the low back of my dress. A hostess immediately retrieves two menus and gestures us through the dining area. People seem to know and respect Noah without him having to introduce himself.

  The lighting is low and soft, casting a romantic glow. Small tables fill the large room. Deep crimson velvet covers the walls and candles light the tables. Soft classical music is playing over the sounds of soft chatter, and my hand itches with the craving to play my violin. I immediately push away the thought. I'm determined to enjoy this dinner and ignore the constant worrying and stress of my life.

  We are seated at a table in the back, offering us some privacy. A waiter brings us a bottle wine and glasses, and Noah tenderly smiles at me over the candle centerpiece.

  "You look stunning tonight, Willow."

  I feel the heat of a blush creep up my face. "Thank you. You look good yourself. This place is really amazing."

  He fills our glasses with wine. I imagine a younger version of me, swooning at Noah at this very table. A girl from a small town in Montana would never be able to resist his charm and spoils. I would have melted at his attention and adorable dimples. I wonder how long it took for me to get used to the pampering.

  We're quiet while we browse over the menus. I'm already overwhelmed and we've barely spoken. My first date was with a boy from school when I was a junior in high school. He took me to a local pizza place. I had boyfriends back home, but I was young and immature. Tonight is in a league of its own. My old life doesn't compare to the life I seem to be living now.

  "Willow," Noah says, grabbing my attention. "You're shaking the table." His eyes flash with irritation for a moment before it disappears. I had been bouncing my leg, a nervous habit. Before I can apologize, the waiter arrives to take our orders. Dozens of images flash in mind of similar situations. Romantic dinners with Noah and expensive wines. Noah in his suit across the table from me.

  "What did you do while I was in Chicago?" Noah asks after the waiter leaves us. His eyes are back to being gentle and caring.

  "Not much," I admit. "Explored the city and apartment mostly. Did you know there is a huge patio on the twenty-first floor with an outdoor fire pit and seating? It's amazing."

  Noah smiles at my nervous ramble. "I do, sweetheart. I designed the place," he says with a wink.

  "Right. Of course."

  Noah tells me about his trip and how the airline lost his dad’s luggage on the way there. The hardness of his tone is a new sound for me when he explains the fiasco at the airport. His hands clutch at his fork as he stabs at his salad. I brush away the uneasy feeling. Anyone would be bothered with the inconvenience, right? Noah has been nothing but great to me; I don't need to feel uncomfortable around him.

  During the meal, Noah dominates most of the conversation. If it were up to me, there would be radio silence. I don't have much to say, so I'm glad Noah is more than happy to fill me in on the details on his life. He speaks mostly about work and his parents. He is an only child but is very close to his father. I can tell by way he talks that he respects his dad.

  "I will need to make a few more trips to Chicago during the build. Maybe you could come on a trip?"

  "That would be nice," I tell him. As much as the thought of traveling induces a panic, I doubt I would rather be left alone for all his many trips.

  When our plates are cleared, we each drink another glass of wine. I can feel another headache creeping in. My energy has been draining quickly lately, and I am already feeling run down. I let the dry but sweet taste of wine dance around in my mouth while I listen to Noah chat away. They will be breaking ground for a new high rise in Chicago soon and he was excited about it.

  "You okay, baby?" Noah asks when I try to rub my temples discreetly. He reaches across the table and holds my hands in his. They are warm and encase my small hands easily.

  "Fine," I assure him. "Just another headache."

  Noah frowns and stands, pulling me gently up with him. He gets my purse from the back of my chair and holds me close while escorting me out of the restaurant. Outside, the humidity washes over me. Our car is already at the curb, and Noah assists me in like I am a delicate doll. Once inside the dark backseat, he starts to softly massage my temples.

  "Feel nice?" he whispers in my ear, giving me goosebumps.

  I nod as his fingers continue to rub and caress my head. My eyes fall closed and I enjoy the sensations on my scalp from his light touches. Noah runs his fingers softly through my hair and rubs the back of my neck. I feel some of the tension easing and melting away as he sends me into a tranquil lull. It's an intimate moment, but the car ride ends too soon.

  Noah walks me to the apartment and my nerves grow with every step closer to my door. This is a first date and yet the hundredth date at the same time. I lov
ed him once, I could do it again.

  "I had a great time," I tell him when we reach my door. I feel awkward and out of place.

  "Me too, sweetheart," Noah agrees with a smile. "Good night."

  I don't have time to think before he leans down and kisses me. His lips are tentative and soft on mine, silently asking for permission. When they start to move slowly over mine, I give in, opening my mouth for him. His tongue snakes in, caressing mine. I grip on to his suit jacket and pull myself closer to his body. When his hand goes to the back on my head and entangles in my hair, my mind flashes with visions.

  Noah kissing me. Me pinned to the wall while he licks down my neck and collarbone. My hands fisting his hair, pulling him deeper into the kiss. Kissing so hard that my lips could feel the bruises starting to form.

  I gasp and pull out of the kiss. My head feels like it is being split in half as the visions continue to assault me.

  "Willow?" Noah asks as he bends to look into my watery eyes. "Are you okay? You're worrying me."

  I inhale deeply several times before I can speak. "I'm okay. I remembered," I explain in a tight voice. I feel like I might collapse in my hallway any second.

  "What did you remember?"

  "Kissing you," I answer as I look up to see his face. A brilliant smile spreads on his handsome face and I feel better being able to give him that.

  "Come on," he says, taking my keys and unlocking my door. "Let's get you to bed. Will you ask about the headaches at your next appointment?"

  "Yes," I promise as I let him lead me back to my bedroom. I already know they will tell me they are to be expected because I’ve asked several times already.

  Once Noah hesitantly leaves, I strip out of my expensive clothes and flop naked onto my bed. All my energy has been zapped from holding myself together all night and withstanding the waterfall of memories. As I drift into a restless sleep, I replay the memories I finally had. I never want to lose them again. I desperately need to find a way to get my life back.