Memorized

by Alyne Roberts

As I wait for coffee, I scroll through my phone, texting Landon a thank you for coming last night. As soon as it sent, I deleted the text and set the phone on the counter. It's not until I get my first sip of coffee that I wonder why I deleted the text. It was almost as if I acted out of habit, the way my fingers glided across the screen, quickly erasing any evidence.

  Before I can ponder too much longer, the phone rings and Noah's name glares back at me. I quickly answer, eager to hear his voice after trying to reach him so many times the day before.

  "Hey," I breathe into the phone.

  "Good morning, sweetheart. I'm back in Atlanta and will be over soon," he tells me. He sounds more relaxed than the last time we spoke, so I assumed everything was settled in Seattle.

  "Okay. See you soon." I hang up, doubting he even heard me. He's one of those people that hangs up as soon as they are done speaking. It drives me crazy.

  It's only a few more minutes later that he knocks on the door. I open it and let him kiss me on the cheek. Internally, I want to ask why his phone was off when he had a girlfriend at home with a medical condition. I wanted him to apologize and feel guilty for leaving me feeling stranded and isolated. I clench my teeth though, wanting to avoid any more drama. I’d had enough lately to last a lifetime.

  "Who was here last night?" Noah asks as he brushes past me and into the living room.

  "Excuse me?" No greeting or asking if I'm okay. He launches right into a question that sounds awfully close to an accusation.

  "Security said they let up a guy after midnight. Who was he, Willow?"

  His voice is deep and harsher than I ever heard before. His jaw is tight, face void of any emotion. I had already thought Noah was a stranger before, but I never met the man in front of me now. He appears cold and hard as he blankly stares at me. The tension pouring off him is anchoring my feet to the ground, freezing me in place.

  "I asked you a question," he bites out when I fail to answer. His face is tight with what looks like a mixture of anger and hurt.

  "A friend," I stutter. "I had a nightmare and you didn't answer your phone."

  "A friend? From where?"

  "He's helping me. He is studying me, trying to help with the amnesia. I met him through my doctor," I blurt out, feeling defensive and nervous.

  Noah continues to stare at me without a word. Inside, I'm struggling with wanting to run or fight with him. His anger is new to me, but I tell myself he's being protective. Part of me is shivering and completely uncomfortable in this situation. I shouldn't have to explain myself for seeking help.

  "You didn't tell me you had someone else helping you."

  I stare down at my feet, hating that I made the submissive gesture. "Dr. Mason mentors a student studying psychology. He suggested that I work with him as well to increase my chances of recovery. I didn't tell you because I hate talking about how messed up I am."

  Noah closes the distance between us and cups my face. His hold is gentle and his eyes are back to the softness I know. "You don't have to feel like that. I don't like hearing about strangers coming in here in the middle of the night, Willow. I was worried about you."

  "Okay. I'm sorry," I whisper. A voice inside is telling me to shut up and not to apologize, but I don't like the hurt and worry in his eyes. His grip tightens on my chin.

  "Just don't do that again. Understand? I need to know you're safe."

  I nod and pull out of his grasp. I rub my jaw and back away, but Noah follows. For every step I take back, he takes another toward me. My skin is crawling and every hair on my body is standing on end. An uneasy feeling washes over me as I hit the end of my uncomfortable but decorative couch. I feel like prey caught in the crosshairs of its hunter.

  "I missed you," Noah says softly. It was so close to his regular self that I almost relaxed. "Come here. I'm sorry I missed your calls."

  Noah pulls me into his chest and I inhale his usual expensive cologne. His fingers are running through my hair and I feel myself automatically relax into his embrace. When he pulls back slightly and tilts my face to him, I let him. His lips are soft on mine as he kisses me tenderly. He holds me like I'm fragile and needed protecting. I force myself to relax and bask in the security he’s offering me.

  His lips press harder against mine and a sudden anxiety starts to creep back into my body. Every time he kisses me, I wonder how far to go, if it is too soon, or how pulling away will make him feel. I struggle with the perfect balance between what I feel and what he wants. His hands are insistent and firm as he backs us down the hall without breaking contact. I can feel my heart pounding in my chest and I wish it were from excitement.

  "You belong to me, baby. You know that, right?" Noah says against my lips. I want to nod, but I'm strangely immobile in his firm grasp. As I walk backward, I feel the pain in my head as flashbacks assault me.

  It’s nighttime and Noah’s in a suit. He looks devastatingly handsome as he smiles at me. The background slowly materializes in my mind and I see that we are standing on a rooftop, surrounded by twinkling lights. It's romantic and magical, making my eyes mist up at the perfect beauty. Noah drops to his knee and I hear my own gasp. With my hands over my trembling lips, he opens the velvet box to reveal the largest diamond I have seen.

  The pounding in my chest increases, but Noah is oblivious to my condition. In my confused and shocked state, my heart warms at the romantic proposal. Guilt quickly follows because as we head to my bedroom, I want to run away. My steps falter with dizziness.

  My bedroom door bangs against the wall when we force through it. I stumble, trying to keep up with the speed that he is pushing at. Before I know it, my legs are hitting the mattress. My back muscles tighten to hold myself upright and keep from falling back on the bed. I want to give him what he wants but everything inside of me is locking up.

  "Noah," I breathe against his lips.

  A quick glance at my hand confirms I am without a ring. Why didn't he tell me as soon as I was awake? Why would he hide that from me? I want to ask but voicing that I just now remember a proposal makes me feel terrible. Half of me wants to please Noah, while the other half wants to please myself with all the answers.

  I fall back to the bed and Noah follows, leaving little space between us. I watch the muscles in his shoulders work as he holds his large body over mine. His eyes are dark, scanning my body like a starved man. I swallow the knot in my throat as he lowers his face to mine.

  This kiss is hard and unyielding, like he's trying to mark himself on my lips. My hands go to his chest, out of habit or hesitation, I can't tell anymore. Internally I'm calming my nerves by reminding myself that this is my serious boyfriend. I want to return to the way we were before. Maybe letting myself go further will help trigger the memories I need of him.

  When I feel his grip on my thigh, I twist my face to break the kiss. I gasp in air, feeling suffocated as his lips nip and kiss the side of my neck. Noah was always doting, thoughtful, and caring with me. The man on top of me and about to bruise my inner thigh is possessive and demanding. It all feels wrong, and when I shiver, it's not from pleasure. My head is swimming and I feel my fingers start to tingle.

  "Noah. Stop," I whisper as he nips at my neck.

  "I missed you so much, baby," he murmurs in my ear before biting my earlobe lightly.

  I push a little harder on his chest. "I missed you, too."

  "I love you," he says while he continues kissing and groping.

  "Noah," I say louder, feeling like I'm going to be sick. "Stop."

  He sighs loudly and pushes off of me. I don't dare to look at the disappointment in his face. Jumping from the bed, I rush to my bathroom and slam the door behind me. When my vision clears, I splash water on my face and stare in the mirror until my hands stop shaking. Green eyes stare back at me in pity and resentment. I hate the weak and scared girl I've become.

  I brace myself and pull open the door. Noah jumps up and comes for me, but the look on his face is different from before. He looked pained a
nd guilty, with a frown and concerned golden eyes. He quickly approaches but I don't shrink back from him.

  "I'm so sorry, baby," he says in a hoarse voice. "I got carried away. I love you and I didn't mean to push too far."

  Noah looks so earnest and genuine as he gently takes my hands in his. The playful smile I know stretches across his face and he's back to the charming and caring man that I met in the hospital. Was that the same man I met years ago when I moved to Atlanta?

  "It's okay," I tell him, and he visibly relaxes. "I just don't feel too well."

  "I'm so sorry. You need anything, sweetheart?"

  His concern seems genuine and I hate that there's a nasty voice in my head doubting it. If Noah is all that I have in the world, then I should be able to trust him with my life. He has done nothing but take care of me and help ease me back into the real world. But if my boyfriend is hiding the fact that we were engaged then I don't know what to trust anymore.

  "I'm fine," I tell him. "I just need some more sleep. Can I call you later?"

  "Sure, baby," Noah says as he helps me back to my bed. I climb in and let him pull the covers back over me, even though I know I won't sleep.

  "Call me later, okay?"

  I nod and watch as he lets himself out. I hear the alarm set and my front door close, but I wait a little longer. When I'm sure the coast is clear, I jump back out of bed and start tearing through my jewelry boxes. I never realized how much expensive jewelry I had before because I was only looking for hints to my past.

  My search doesn't turn up the engagement ring. Other rings and necklaces give me glimpses into the past. All are gifts from Noah. Why don't I have the ring? Did I say no? I would think if I declined his proposal we would have broken up and he wouldn't be by my side when I woke from a coma.

  When my head feels like it’s about to split in half, I collapse back into bed. I can't stretch my thoughts enough to find the answers or reasons anymore. Distrusting Noah leaves a sick feeling in my heart and stomach. I hate it. In order to drift off to sleep, I wonder if Noah took the ring back to propose all over again. If I let myself get too caught up in the lies and mystery, I am going to drive myself insane.

  The English language has four hundred words assigned to emotions. One word, or a combination of words, is supposed to explain how a person feels. I wonder if there are enough words to express certain sentiments. Are there times a person can't formulate the words to fit what they feel? Can every emotion be covered with only four hundred words?

  I pore over my studies, searching for the answers to not only my own broken mind, but to Willow's as well. The fascinating thing about psychology is knowing that one person can function normally and live a happy life, while another can hear voices and live in a distorted reality. Some will be overcome with sadness while others have no emotions at all. One person in this coffee shop can remember everything while the other has lost most of their memory.

  I find myself no longer studying my books but instead studying the beautiful girl behind the counter. Willow moves with a natural grace as she mindlessly completes customers' orders. She smiles, though they are only polite, and keeps herself busy enough to keep her thoughts at bay. If she has a spare second, I can see her drift off somewhere else entirely.

  "Take a break," Paige tells her when the morning rush dies down. "You are making me look bad by being a little busy-body." Willow laughs and her eyes sparkle as she tosses a wet rag at Paige.

  I wait while Willow takes off the apron and comes over to my table. I hate that I'm expecting her. I really hate that I have been waiting all day for her break. After spending most of life trying to concentrate and stay away from distractions, I found the biggest distraction of all. I can't help when my thoughts turn to her, playing her over and over in my mind like my favorite movie.

  "Hey," I say when she sits and takes a sip of her coffee. Not only does vanilla make me think of her, but now she's added chocolate, cherries, and even coffee in general. I don't stand a chance.

  "Hey." Willow pulls her bottom lip in her mouth as she picks at her coffee cup. "I want to thank you for the other night. I'm sorry I woke you up. I appreciate you coming over and putting me to bed."

  "It's not a problem," I tell her honestly.

  "I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't picked up the phone."

  "What's wrong?" I ask. It's obvious something is bothering her. Her eyebrows are drawn and she only bites at her lip like that when she is nervous or deep in thought. It might also be to torture me since it's becoming the hottest thing I've ever seen her do, so I need her stop doing it. I'm ashamed to say I watch her a lot, so I notice all the tempting things she does.

  "Nothing really," she says with a shake of her head.

  "Don't insult me by lying to me, darling," I tell her flatly.

  Expressive, vivid green eyes widen back at me.

  "There are over ten thousand different facial expressions. Each expression to display someone's thoughts, emotions, or even health. Most would go unnoticed by the people around you or be unreadable if you didn't know what you were looking for. I know what I'm looking for and have been paying attention," I tell her.

  "Can we meet tonight? Around nine?" she asks. "We can talk then."

  "That would be great. I actually have something to give you."

  She smiles and leans forward so that I need to struggle to maintain eye contact. She's wearing a summer dress with little cherries on the skirt. The low cut is accented with a red bow that is practically pointing an arrow to her cleavage. Plump, pink lips pull into a smile and I imagine they would taste like cherries to match her outfit. With my invisible wall between us broken down, I have no control anymore when it comes to her.

  "What is it?" she asks excitedly.

  I laugh. "It's a surprise. You want me to pick you up?" I suggest. I hate thinking of her walking the city alone.

  "Can I meet you here? My building has too many eyes," she says in a bitter voice.

  "What's that mean? Why don't you want me there?"

  "I just rather meet you here," she pleads. Willow looks desperate for me to agree.

  "Make it eight. Here."

  "Thank you," she breathes in relief. "See you then."

  I watch as Willow returns to work. She seems less tense than earlier, but I still wonder what is on her mind. I briefly wish that I could trade my superhuman memory for the power of mind-reading. What is she scared of? She seemed hesitant to have me at her place and it leaves me with an uneasy feeling.

  At eight o'clock, I'm standing outside the coffee shop waiting for Willow. I watch as people walk past, oblivious in their own little worlds. I catch snippets of conversations and glimpses of familiar faces here and there. I'm leaning against the brick wall when I finally see her step out from a cab. Her smile is relaxed as she approaches me.

  "You made it," I say when she reaches me. Her hair is pulled up in a cute ponytail and she's out of the cherry dress, wearing jeans and a shirt that falls off one shoulder.

  "I did. So, what's this surprise?" she asks, bouncing on her heels in anticipation.

  "First, what did you want to meet about?" I counter. "You asked me first."

  Willow's excitement dims slightly and I instantly regret bringing it up. She looks around at the people and cars surrounding us. Not willing to ruin her mood yet, I grab her hand and start to lead her down the street.

  "Where are we going?" she asks, but she doesn't hesitate or slow down.

  "To get your surprise," I tell her. I look down just in time to catch her biting her lip in an attempt to keep a smile at bay.

  I'm not sure when I forgot to keep her far away from me. When she's not around, I can tell myself all day to keep to myself, no touching, and under no conditions can I start to like her for anything more than a study subject. Having her near, I want to memorize the freckles on the bridge of her nose and shoulders. I want to keep that fear, pain, and anxious look out of her pretty green eyes.

  The thi
ng about finding something you like, well it sucks majorly when it's gone. As kids, we cry when our favorite toy is broken. As teenagers, we get sad when we break up within a juvenile relationship that was bound to end sometime anyway. As adults, our heart breaks when we lose people we love. They say that time heals all. Not for me.

  The hole in my heart from losing my mom hasn't healed yet, and I know now that it never will. At any given time, I can hear her laugh or see her smile. I remember the way my air left my lungs when I knew she was gone. Images of her when she was sick will haunt me every time I see one of those pink ribbons. When Willow is out of my life for whatever reason it will be, time won't heal the pain.

  We walk down the street and I pull her through the set of doors. Once inside, she looks around. "You took me to a bar?"

  I laugh at the confusion in her voice. "Yep. Stay here."

  Willow sits at the table where I leave her, and I head to the bar. Aaron sees me and waves while he continues to chat up a customer. I slip behind the counter and grab the black case I left back there this afternoon. When I found it, I knew Willow needed to have it. Trying to keep it professional, I stowed it at the bar so I could give it to her at a public place. Having her in my home wasn't a good idea.

  The moment Willow sees what I'm carrying back to her, her jaw drops. When I set the case on the table, her eyes are glistening. Wordlessly, she unclasps the locks and opens the top, revealing the violin. It's an antique but the shop owner tuned it and polished it when I bought it. The body and strings are in almost perfect condition still. The leather case shows some signs of wear, but it has a cool vintage vibe to it.

  "Oh my god," Willow whispers as she runs her fingers down the neck and traces the curves of the body. "It's beautiful. I don't know what to say."

  "Don't say anything. Will you play it?" I ask.

  Her wide eyes finally tear away from the instrument and stare at me. "Here? No, I can't play."

  "Can't or won't?"

  The place is almost empty. A couple sits at the back table and two other women are flirting with my brother up at the bar. Willow seems to notice this too as she glances around before looking back to the violin. She pulls it gently from the case and rests it on her shoulder, almost like she's trying it on for size.