Every Tomorrow

by Nia Arthurs

“I knew it!” Zora snaps her fingers. “I knew there was something off about that scar line.” She glances at me. “I’ve sewn up hundreds of stab wounds. They’re all the same, but Kent’s didn’t look like anything I’ve seen.”

  Wilson runs a hand through his hair, furthering the chaos. “Kent was suffering from depression. It got worse as his condition progressed. He… tried to overdose on sleeping pills.”

  My eyes widen. It feels like my heart is tearing in half. “No…”

  “I found him that night. Saved his life. He wrote about the attempt and tried to do it again. I was scared so I stopped by his place everyday. I found him with a knife this time. We fought and Kent forced the knife into himself.”

  I shake my head. My tongue darts out to wet my lips. I taste salt and realize I’m crying. I sniff. “We know you were manipulating his B-Jogger app. You tore the pages. Why would you do that if you’re not trying to hide something?”

  “I did,” Wilson says tearfully. “I wanted him to forget. Every time he wrote about those episodes, it made him feel even more hopeless. So I hacked his app and erased everything about the suicide attempts. I was the one who urged him to leave home. Go somewhere sunny and warm.”

  “Belize.”

  “Exactly.” Wilson nods. “I wanted to jar him out of his routine. Then he met you and it seemed like he was getting better. A few days ago, I met with his neurosurgeon to discuss what we could do to keep him healthy.”

  “So… you didn’t try to kill him.”

  “Never.” Wilson brushes a tear away as if he’s embarrassed. “Kent’s my best friend. My brother. No matter what, I’ve got his back.”

  I stagger against the wall, overwhelmed by everything I’ve learned.

  “Amaya!” Zora yells. She catches me by my side and wraps her hand around my waist. “You okay?”

  Wilson steps forward as if to help, but seems to think better of it.

  I struggle to catch my breath. Wilson isn’t an attempted murderer. He was only trying to keep Kent alive for as long as possible.

  That means there’s no conspiracy. No hope that he was only making up Kent’s illness to get his hands on the company.

  The truth is, Kent is going to die.

  At that moment, I break down and weep.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Kent

  I hear someone crying outside my room. Her voice sounds familiar even though I can’t say who it is. My heart shreds as she sobs. Her pain is affecting me. Like we’re connected. Or we’re the same person.

  “Please,” I whisper to the empty hospital room, “someone… help her.”

  The door slides open. A man scrambles to my bedside. Wilson. Except now he has a beard. He grabs my hand. Tears are sparkling in his eyes. “Kent, are you okay?”

  “Wilson,” I struggle to speak though my throat is dry, “that woman.”

  “What? What woman?”

  I realize the hallway has gone quiet again, but my heart still feels uneasy. “Help her.”

  “Who?”

  “I… don’t know.”

  “It doesn’t matter. Look, you’re in no position to feel sorry for anyone.”

  A hand inches up to my chest. I don’t remember anything. Why I’m here in the hospital. What I was doing before. But I know this. That woman shouldn’t cry.

  “Don’t worry about me. Help her.”

  The door opens again. “Kent?”

  It’s a woman’s voice this time. Is it her?

  I struggle to sit up. Wilson frowns but doesn’t try to stop me. I successfully brace my back against the pillow and stare at the person slipping through the door. Disappointment slams my gut.

  The face staring at me with concern is familiar. Raven hair. Blue eyes. Violet.

  “What’s going on?” I croak. “Why are you two here?”

  “Don’t you remember what happened this morning?” Wilson asks.

  I stare blankly at the wall, shuffling through my mind for an answer. I come up blank. “No.”

  Violet’s eyes are extra-glassy, but she can’t be the woman that was crying outside because I feel nothing when I look at her. She licks her pink lips. “Kent, I’m so sorry.”

  Sorry? Did someone die? Is that why I’m here? “What happened?”

  They exchange nervous looks.

  Wilson lowers himself into the seat beside my bed. “You had a panic attack.”

  “A panic attack?”

  He nods. “Three years ago, you were in a hit-and-run. Your brain suffered irreparable damage and you lost your memories. The trauma from that day affects you every time you get into an accident.”

  “I was in an accident three years ago? And today?”

  “Well, today you ran into incoming traffic, but it was enough to trigger it.”

  “I did?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why would I do something that stupid?”

  Wilson stares at the blanket. “You were upset.”

  “I wouldn’t run into moving traffic just because I was angry, Wilson.” Sure, I don’t remember anything else but I know myself.

  “What matters is,” Violet reaches out to place her hand on mine, “you’re safe.”

  “I guess.” I move my aching shoulder.

  Wilson pats my cot. “I’ll call the doctor. Maybe you can get some pills for that shoulder.”

  “Yeah.” As he walks out, I turn to Violet. “So, where is… this?”

  “We’re at the Medical Center, a hospital in Belize.”

  My jaw drops. “Belize?”

  “Yes. You moved here on vacation.” Her voice trembles. “You’ve been here for about a month already.”

  “I have?”

  She nods.

  I lean over. “Violet, is there—did I meet a woman?”

  I watch her closely. She stiffens. I read the discomfort on her face loud and clear. She always grows rigid as a piece of wood whenever she has a secret but isn’t free to share.

  “Violet?”

  “She’s outside.”

  My heartbeat kicks up. “Who?”

  “Why don’t you focus on getting better and then we can—?”

  “Now.” The words burst out of my mouth. “I need her now.”

  Violet’s throat bobs but she rises and leaves. A moment later, she returns with another woman. My eyes drink in the sight of her—brown skin, curly black hair, big brown eyes. She’s wearing a purple blouse and shorts.

  She’s pretty. Beautiful even. But a stranger.

  At least, I think she’s a stranger. My heart is spazzing like she’s something more. I press a hand to my chest, struggling to understand why I’m reacting this way.

  “Do you… remember me?” she asks hesitantly.

  I shake my head. That voice, it’s the sweetest thing I’ve heard in my life. I’d remember that. I know I would.

  “I’m Amaya.” She wrings her hands together. Why is she so nervous? “I wanted to come in earlier, but I figured you’d be better off with Violet and Wilson. You knew them before… everything.”

  “Were you crying?”

  She freezes. Stares at me. “How did you…?”

  “Please.” I dig my fingers into the blanket. “Please, don’t cry anymore.”

  Both Violet and the woman look shocked.

  “What’s your name?” I ask the woman.

  “Um, Amaya.”

  “Amaya.” I taste the name on my tongue. It’s familiar. Comfortable. I’ve said that before. Many times. With affection. I can tell. But I can’t remember.

  The door opens and Wilson returns with the doctor and a nurse in tow. The nurse appraises me with serious eyes. I get a sense of déjà vu. I’ve met that nurse before. Somewhere.

  “Is he free to go?” Violet asks, hope in her voice.

  “Yes.” The doctor doesn’t smile even though I consider that good news. “Thankfully, he collapsed on the sidewalk and not in the middle of the street or this would be a very different conversation.”


  It’s a funny line so I laugh, but when no one joins me I clear my throat. “Thanks for your work, doctor.”

  I start to slide off the bed when the nurse sticks a hand out and shoves me back, “Not so fast.”

  “Why?” Amaya asks. “What’s wrong?”

  The nurse glances at the doctor before addressing all of us. “We need to talk about those brain scans.”

  “What about them?” I fold my arms over my chest.

  The doctor taps a file in his hands. “You’re dying, Mr. Barton.”

  I bark out a laugh. “We’re all dying.”

  “Kent,” Wilson frowns, “remember that accident I told you about? That caused you to lose your memories?”

  I nod.

  “Your brain is sick. There’s… not much time left.”

  My eyes fly to Amaya. She’s trembling, but I can tell she’s putting a lot of effort into keeping her tears back. “What?”

  “The doctors were talking to me about a brain surgeon in Europe,” Wilson says.

  “Europe?”

  The nurse steps forward. “Many people lose their short term memories during a brain surgery, but there’s a doctor experimenting on reversing that process.”

  “That’s great. Why don’t we do that?”

  “It… has a 80% chance of failing.”

  “You’re kidding.” My gaze bounces between Wilson and the nurse.

  “We knew about the surgery before, but you reacted the same way. It was too risky. You preferred to tackle life on your own terms than lower your chances with an unknown procedure.”

  “And what’s changed?”

  Wilson stops. Stares at Amaya. His voice is low, thoughtful. “Everything.”

  Amaya notices his look and shakes her head. “No way. He doesn’t have to do this for me.”

  The nurse frowns. “It’s not for you. It’s to improve his chances at surviving more than a few weeks.”

  “Zora, he could die on the operation table.”

  “He’s already dying,” Zora fires back.

  “Hey!” Violet shrieks. “You can’t just say that.”

  “Why not?” Zora folds her arms over her chest. “It’s the truth.”

  Wilson steps forward, his voice grave and his eyes piercing. “You’re talking about my family here. At least show some sympathy.”

  Zora doesn’t back down. “This is me showing sympathy.” She glances away and mumbles under her breath, “Moron.”

  Wilson’s face twists like he’s gearing up to fight. I stop them first. “Can I have the room?”

  “But we’re not done talking,” Violet says.

  I simply stare at her and wait.

  “Come on.” Wilson leads Violet out. The doctor and nurse soon follow.

  Amaya squirms.

  I point to the chair next to my bed. “Have a seat.”

  She obeys and sets her hands on her lap. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I was with you in the ambulance. Of course, you wouldn’t know that because you were unconscious, but I was so scared. I didn’t know about your trauma. Wilson says your panic attacks are caused by psychological triggers—”

  “Are we dating?” I blurt.

  Her head shoots up. “What?”

  “Or are we married?” I guess. “Engaged?”

  “No, we’re just… we’re together. No labels.”

  “Why not?”

  Her gaze slides away from mine. “They didn’t matter.”

  “You knew I was dying, so we didn’t even bother? Is that what you mean?”

  She remains quiet.

  “How long have we been together?”

  “It’s only been a few weeks.”

  A few weeks? “But we love each other.”

  “Kent,” she sniffs, “don’t do the surgery.”

  “Do you love me?” I press.

  She waits a second. “Yes.”

  There’s no way for me to verify that, but I believe her. When she walked into the room, my world got brighter. My throat tightened. My entire being responded.

  Amaya’s important to me. More important than any woman in my life.

  And I don’t even remember her.

  I muster up a smile. “I’m okay, Amaya. You don’t have to worry about me.”

  “I’ve been worrying about you since the moment we met.”

  I’m sure there’s a story behind that, but I don’t have time to hear it. “Can you send Wilson back in here? I need to talk to him.”

  Amaya nods and disappears through the door. A moment later, Wilson walks in. Alone.

  I wonder why Amaya didn’t accompany him but Wilson answers before I can voice that question. “Amaya went with the nurse. Apparently, they’re friends.”

  “They are?”

  “Right? It stumps me too. That Zora woman is…” Wilson shakes his head in disgust. “Anyway, I just paid the bill. You can leave anytime.”

  I swing my legs over the bed. “Will?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Get me every scrap of research you can about the surgery.”

  His eyebrows slant. “You’re doing it?”

  “There’s someone I want to remember.”

  “Kent…”

  “Later.” I wave his concerns away. “Bring the research first.”

  Thirty minutes later, I pore over documents on the laptop in my hotel room. There’s a knock on my door and Wilson walks in with a tray of food.

  “I’m not hungry,” I say automatically.

  “I don’t care.” Wilson plops the tray on top of the desk. “Eat.”

  I face him. “You know, I read about what you did in my journal. Why should I trust anything you give me?”

  He sighs. “I had a good reason for hacking into your app.”

  “What about my torn journal pages?”

  He studies me. “Don’t do the surgery and I’ll give you the pages. I still have them.”

  I turn away from him. “No deal.”

  “Kent,” Wilson frowns, “you can’t be serious.”

  I focus on the laptop screen. “It says here that the surgery costs over a hundred thousand. Do I have that kind of cash?”

  Wilson remains silent.

  I arch an eyebrow. “Do I?”

  “Yes.” He says it like he’s pulling teeth.

  “Sign me up.”

  “No.”

  “Fine, I’ll do it myself.” I start typing.

  Wilson grabs my hand. “Kent, no matter how good this doctor is, just opening up your head is a major risk. There could be an unforeseen complication. You could die before they even have a chance to do anything.”

  “I’ve been walking around like a dead man for three years, Will. Three years. Then I came to Belize. I met Amaya and… I started living. Really living.”

  “You know that from a bunch of lines you wrote in your journal?”

  “I can’t be with her if I forget her face every morning. She deserves more.” I swing back to the laptop. “I’m doing the surgery. Will you help me or not?”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Amaya

  “Are you okay?” Diandra asks. “Zora called and told me you’d need a friend, but I’m tied up at work and—”

  “I’m fine.”

  There’s noise in the background. Diandra must be bending beneath her desk at work to talk to me. “She told me about Kent. Is he doing the surgery?”

  “I told him not to.”

  “If it works, you two can be together without any complications. Don’t you want that?”

  “If it doesn’t work, he dies.”

  “Zora said he was dying anyway.”

  I groan. “Zora doesn’t know anything.”

  “She’s a nurse. I think she knows more than any of us.” Diandra pauses. “Should I tell my boss I have explosive diarrhea and come over?”

  That earns her a chuckle. “I’m fine. Wilson and Violet’s with Kent now. I’m going to give him some space so
he can make his own decision and talk to him tomorrow.”

  “I’ll stop by tonight.”

  “Don’t.”

  “Amaya…”

  “I just want to be alone.”

  “Call me if you need anything.”

  “I will.”

  I hang up on Diandra and return to my research. The more I learn about Zora’s fancy European surgery, the more unsettled I feel. Too many things could go wrong. I would never be able to live with myself if Kent took such a risk for me.

  But I’m trying not to lose myself in the pain. Kent’s a grown man. I’m sure he’ll make the best decision for his health and happiness.

  He just… he needs to be alive to enjoy those things.

  I go to bed that night with a heavy heart and tears in my eyes. Kent didn’t like to hear me cry so I’ve been steeling myself against my emotions and staying strong.

  Eventually, I fall into a deep sleep.

  The next morning, Kent stops by. The moment I look into his green eyes, I know he’s doing the surgery and there’s nothing I can do to stop him.

  I lead him into the living room where we sit in thick and heavy silence.

  After a while, Kent clears his throat. “I’m leaving.”

  “When?”

  “Tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow?” My gaze whips to his. “Why so soon?”

  “I want to do this as soon as possible. And when I’m done, I’ll come back to you.”

  “You can’t promise that,” I whisper.

  He moves away from his chair and sits beside me. “If I don’t make it back—”

  “That’s not an option.”

  “You make me happy, Amaya. So—” He places his hand on my head. “I want you to be happy. No matter what happens, forget all the bad stuff and just remember the moments that make you smile.”

  I cling to his shirt. “No, please don’t go. Please.”

  “I’m not leaving yet.” He kisses my forehead. “I came to ask you something.”

  “What?”

  “Amaya Mai,” Kent stands and offers me a sly smile, “will you be my girlfriend?”

  I choke on a sob. “What?”

  “Is that a yes?”

  I take his hand. “Yes.”

  I spend the rest of the day with Kent. We take a two-hour drive to Cayo where—according to Kent’s research—they serve the best ice cream in Belize. We stroll through a local art gallery and spend the evening driving back home.