Stolen

by Jalena Dunphy

  I hear laughter behind me. “I told you that you didn’t like it,” mom tries to say through her laughter.

  “I do like it, though,” I say. “Or at least I thought I did. I used to drink it all the time.”

  I’m lost in thought when I feel warm arms surround me. “We’ll get through this, okay, sweetie? We’ll figure out a way to separate what you remember from the other life with your memories from this life. We’ll get there,” she says reassuringly, but I feel anything but reassured. What if I’m never able to distinguish one reality from the other? What if I’m irrevocably broken?

  “Mom, where’s my phone?” I ask needing to change the subject.

  “Oh, well, I had it turned off a couple of months ago. You weren’t using it, and it was costing a lot to keep it on my plan . . . and . . . I just thought . . .”

  Hearing her so apologetic is too upsetting. Look at what I put this poor woman through. “That makes sense,” I say. “Don’t worry about it.”

  “We’ll get you a new one, okay?” She offers.

  “Sure, mom. I’m going to take a shower and get dressed, okay?”

  “Okay, honey. Would you like me to fix you a bowl of cereal? I picked up your favorite yesterday at the store,” she says cheerfully.

  “Fruity Pebbles? Sure, sounds good,” I say as I make my way out of the kitchen.

  “Fruity Pebbles?”

  Her question makes me stop dead in my tracks. Why is she questioning my favorite cereal? With an exasperated sigh, I ask, “What cereal did you buy?”

  “Lucky Charms.”

  Yuck! Lucky Charms? Since when have I liked Lucky Charms? Oh, who cares anymore? I need to accept that I don’t know who I am. I don’t know what is or what was. I don’t know anything anymore. This can’t last forever, right? At some point it will all come back to me, right?

  “Right, I forgot. I think I’ll pass on breakfast, though. I’m not very hungry this morning.”

  “Do you want me to go buy you Fruity Pebbles? I will. I just thought . . . I’m sorry, honey. I didn’t know that’s what you would want.” Her voice is filled with concern.

  I have to attempt to calm her nerves. “I think I just don’t want cereal anymore, mom. It’s probably because of the hospital food I’ve been eating; I can’t remember which cereal I used to like because I haven’t eaten it in so long.” This is a blatant lie, but hopefully one that will appease her.

  “That makes sense,” she says.

  I can’t stand to lie anymore, so I run up the stairs, slamming the bathroom door shut as soon as I’m safely inside. If I thought the revelations from the past day and a half were a lot to take in my appearance trumps them all.

  Who am I? My hair is longer than I remember it being, as long as it used to be when I was, well, when I was in high school. My brown eyes are less . . . less aged. I look like a sixteen year old girl, a girl who hasn’t suffered the death of her boyfriend, a girl who hasn’t been stalked, who hasn’t lost all of her friends.

  I look like a girl who is grieving, but just a girl, a girl who has her whole life ahead of her. Maybe this won’t be so bad after all? Maybe I can take what I remember from that other life to make changes in this one? Maybe I can change my outcome?

  After the shower I’m feeling slightly better, calmer after recognizing that my life doesn’t have to suck, that I can make it whatever I want it to be. I’m feeling even better when I hear the voice I had dreamt of hearing so often in my other life, a voice I’m elated to be hearing now.

  Rogan.

  Twisting my hair up into a loose bun, I grab a pair of jeans, a light blue t-shirt, and a pair of black ballet flats, dressing faster than models at a fashion show, though I look nowhere near as attractive, it’ll have to do—I can’t wait another minute.

  “Yeah, I was going to ask her if she wanted to do something for our anniversary, but I don’t know if I should.” I hear Rogan say.

  “I think she would love it. You should definitely ask her.” I hear mom exclaim.

  Not wanting to eavesdrop any longer I step into the kitchen acting as if I hadn’t been listening in on their conversation. “Hi,” I say, not knowing what else to say, especially after seeing Rogan sitting in front of me looking at me like a starving man who’s found his next meal. I can’t be sure, but I don’t think he’s ever looked at me like this before, with so much lust, so much desire, but also so much love. It’s making my belly do funny things.

  “Hey, baby,” he responds. I had forgotten just how deep his voice was. How his voice alone can make my insides quiver.

  “Hi.” I repeat. Real smooth I know, but that look along with that voice could make any girl forget the English language or how to use it.

  “Hey,” he repeats. Maybe I’m not the only one affected.

  “Okay, on that note, I’ll leave you two alone,” mom says. I had forgotten she was in here with us.

  With the two of us alone I don’t know what to do. I can’t speak, and yet there’s so much I want to say. I can’t move, and yet I can’t endure the distance between us much longer.

  Taking control, Rogan takes the first step, moving toward me deftly and with purpose. With only inches between us he asks if he can hug me. Can you hug me? Of course you can hug me! My inner self screams, but what comes out is an eloquent, “huh, uh.”

  Smiling, he pulls me in for the best hug I’ve received in what feels like a lifetime. Maybe it has been, a lifetime I created, but a lifetime nonetheless. “I missed this so much.” I confess as I breathe him in.

  “Me, too. You have no idea how much I’ve missed this,” he states. “I wanted to visit you in the hospital after I heard you had woken up, but the doctors thought it might be too much for you to handle. Knowing you were awake, knowing I could hug you like this, kiss you like I’ve been dying to kiss you, but not being able to has been excruciating.”

  “You didn’t visit me in the hospital after I woke up?” I ask, confused even though I shouldn’t be based on what Bruce told me last night. I thought for sure that Rogan visiting me was real, though.

  “I wanted to, baby, believe me I did, but I didn’t want to upset you. Are you mad at me?”

  “Of course not, I’m just having some trouble figuring out what is real versus not real. I thought you had come to see me, I remember it so vividly, but I guess it was just another part of the old reality. I’m sorry. I know this must sound nuts to you.” I’m so embarrassed that I let him into my twisted, demented thoughts by confessing this to him.

  “It doesn’t sound nuts, but unfortunately it isn’t true. I’m here now, though, and I don’t plan on ever letting you go.”

  Soon we’re rocking side to side just like we used to do. Oh, how I’ve missed this.

  “I have something I want to talk to you about,” he says after a while.

  I don’t want to pull away, but I do want to see his face. I want to look at him in case this isn’t real, in case this is the other life and I end up back in the hellish world where there is no Rogan.

  “Okay,” I say after pulling away.

  “Let’s sit down,” he says. “So, I don’t know how much you remember about anything before the accident.” That’s cute that he calls it an accident. I suppose stating that your girlfriend tried to commit suicide, and would have succeeded had it not been for a persistent man who just wouldn’t let her go, is a bit hard to stomach. “But we were supposed to be celebrating our anniversary in a couple of weeks after the—the . . .”

  “Funeral.” I finish for him. “It’s okay to say it. I’m getting better at saying it, too, so don’t feel like you have to avoid it because of me.”

  “I didn’t want to upset you by talking about that,” he says softly.

  “I appreciate that, Rogan, but I can’t have everyone treating me like a loon, otherwise I’ll always feel like one. Just be yourself, and hopefully I’ll be back to being myself soon enough.”

  “I can get that, and I’ll do my best, if you do something
for me in return,” he says with mischief in his eyes.

  “And what’s that?”

  “Don’t ever call me by my name again! I feel like I’m in trouble,” he says while faking a shiver.

  Laughing, I say, “I’m sorry. Like I just said, though, you have to give me time to get back to being myself. I went what I thought was a very long time not seeing you, thinking you were out of my life forever, only to find out you’ve been here all along.

  “Things were different for me where I was and saying your name aloud was hard enough, so saying something like ‘baby’ or ‘sweetie’ just wasn’t possible, but baby I’ll get better, I promise you I will.”

  “Fair enough,” he says. “I’ll be patient so long as you tell me you at least still want me.” He’s joking, but I can see the fear in his eyes. How could he ever doubt that I’d want to be with him?

  Taking his hand in mine I pour my heart out to him, hoping it will be enough to calm his nerves. “I’ll never not want you. I’ve deprived myself of you because in another world I thought I was protecting you, but that never curbed my craving for you. You were in my thoughts and my dreams, and not a day went by that I didn’t miss you or wish I could be with you. I love you, I’ll always love you, and nothing will ever change that.”

  “I wish I could have taken the pain away. I wish I’d known just how much pain you were in, but you didn’t let me in. I really hope you’ll let me in if you’re ever in a place like that again. I’m here for you, and I always will be.”

  His words make me want to cry, but I can’t cry, I spent so much time crying or rather I feel like I spent a lot of time crying, in any case I don’t want to make it a habit to cry over every little thing that happens to me, even if it’s over sweet words by my sweet Rogan. No, not even then.

  “No one could’ve done anything for me, I guess it was just something I had to go through on my own, but I’m feeling better. Bruce explained everything to me which helped, and hopefully soon I’ll be able to accept it for what it was—my way of coping.”

  “Just promise me you’ll let me in if you feel yourself going down that road again. I can’t bear to be without you another day.”

  “I promise.” And I do promise because I never want to go to that world again. I never want to be without Rogan again.

  “Okay, so enough with the heavy.” He begins again. “I wanted to ask if you would want to celebrate our eighteen month anniversary with me this Saturday night?”

  “Our eighteen month anniversary? Who celebrates an eighteen month anniversary?” I ask confused.

  “We do,” he says as if it’s so obvious, “and anyone who misses their one year anniversary.”

  “With that kind of argument who am I to say no. What are we doing on this eighteen month anniversary?” I ask while trying to stifle a laugh.

  “I thought I’d see if there was anything special you’d want to do before I planned something, and despite you laughing at me I think I’ll be nice and stick with that idea. So, is there anything you want to do?”

  I’d forgotten about how great our anniversary had been . . . or not been. This is getting ridiculous. Has been, hasn’t been, you get the idea.

  “You’re smiling. What are you thinking about?” He interrupts my thoughts of an anniversary night that never happened.

  “You’re going to laugh at me if I tell you.” I confess.

  “What? I’d never laugh at anything that made you smile like you were just smiling. Whatever it was had to be good.”

  “It was,” I say almost dreamily, but it was a dream, so why shouldn’t I say it dreamily? “Wherever my mind was, you and I did celebrate our one year anniversary. You took me to this French restaurant outside of town, then you took me to . . .” Stopping mid-sentence I feel my face flush with heat at the thought of where we went that night, and what we did.

  “Anything that’s making you blush that much must mean it was a great night,” he says playfully.

  “Shut up!” My only comeback.

  “No way! Not until you tell me what made you blush like that.” He presses.

  “Ugh! You took us somewhere that was really sweet and really romantic and that’s all you need to know.” I can only hope that is enough to squash his curiosity.

  “That sounds like me, sweet and romantic, now why don’t you tell me what made me so sweet and romantic?”

  So much for hoping.

  “I’m not telling you. If what I remember happening, happens, then it happens, but if something different happens, then I don’t want to ruin the possibility of a different memory forming. I also don’t want to force something to happen that might not be meant to happen or at least to happen in that way. Does that make sense?”

  “It does. It also makes sense that since you’re blushing and rambling it must have something to do with you know what,” he says suggestively.

  “I don’t know what ‘you know what’ means, so let’s move on.” The flush I felt on my face has spread across my body. Talking about that night is stirring something inside me, something I need to calm down if I want to make it through this conversation without combusting.

  “Uh huh.” I know he’s not going to let this go forever, but at least for now he seems willing to go easy on me. “So, a French restaurant, huh? I was pretty suave in this other world, wasn’t I?” He jokes.

  “I guess you were alright,” I say nonchalantly.

  “Yeah, right. With a face that red, and a smile that goofy, I was totally suave, and you know it. Don’t deny it, babe. Seriously, though, I want to do whatever makes you happy, whatever makes you smile, whatever it takes, I’ll do, because I love you and I want you to be happy. I want to be the one who makes you happy.”

  I can’t take it anymore, being this close, but our lips not touching. “Rogan, kiss me. That will make me happy.” I reveal.

  And he does. He kisses me like it’s been three years or maybe just six months, all I know is it’s been too long, too long wanting to be together, but not too long to drive us apart. Rogan and me are forever. Call it young love, call it blind love, call it crazy, stupid love, just don’t ever say it isn’t true love.

  I lost six months of my life because of the loss of my sister, six months I’ll never be able to get back, but I’m alive, and for Cass I will treasure every day.

  I remember a time when I couldn’t breathe, a time when it felt like a betrayal to breathe, but through therapy, the help of my family and friends, and especially, Rogan, I’ll get through this. I will heal. I know now that it wasn’t my fault, that Cass wouldn’t want me to live as if it was, and that knowledge helps the breaths come easier.

  I miss her, and I always will, but I know I have to move on. I have to accept the past, and be open to a future, a future I can’t foresee, but a future I deserve to live.

  A part of Cass will always be with me, and for her I will love with all of my heart, laugh without abandon, cry when my heart tells me to, but mostly I will cherish my memories of her while creating new ones to tell her about if we should ever meet again.

  Life is messy, and sometimes unkind, but I have learned that life is nothing without love. Love is what can help to get us out of bed in the morning, make us feel safe when we tuck ourselves in at night. It’s what makes bad days bearable and good days great. Love is what brought me back from the precipice I’d thrown myself over, the hell I’d felt I deserved. I was never truly alone because I was always loved, and because of that love I found strength, because of that love I am here.

  Epilogue

  Three years later . . .

  It’s been three years since my breakdown, three years since the death of my sister, and three years since I turned my life around. It’s been hard to get to where I’m at, but worth every hardship I had to overcome, every hurdle I had to jump.

  I worked my ass off through summer school so I could graduate with the rest of my class, but I can’t say I did it on my own. Rogan has been my rock through most of it, with
the love and support of mom and Bruce to help along the way, of course, but I couldn’t have done it without Rogan. I thought I loved him in high school, but as it turns out there is such a thing as young love, a love that isn’t fully capable of understanding what it means to be in love, to test the limits of that love.

  It wasn’t always easy for Rogan to be with me, I know and understand that, but he never left my side, through the nightmares about my other life, the nightmares about Cass’s death, the realization that I lost six months of my life because I was under so much stress my body didn’t know what to do with it all. He stayed by my side, and for that, and for so much more than can be said with words, I love him more now than when I was sixteen. Our young love has morphed into forever love, love we are going to make official at our wedding this August.

  There had never been a question in my mind that I would be with Rogan forever, even when I thought that wouldn’t be possible I knew there would never be someone I’d love as much as him, someone I’d love enough to marry, but now that I have him, I’m never letting go.

  He proposed at our favorite French restaurant on our thirty month anniversary. We celebrate every six months now, because why not? After I told him about that part of my other life it has become a ritual to drive home for every anniversary to celebrate at our restaurant, and weather permitting, our place beneath the stars. He managed to get that out of me, too, on the night of our eighteen month anniversary, and let me say, it was even better than I thought I remembered it being.

  Bruce had been a staple figure in my other life, as it would turn out he had been pretty important to my mom in this life while I was in my coma. I found out they had started seeing each other shortly after I had my breakdown. It was a little weird at first, but now it just makes sense. I like having him around, and since Rogan and me are away at college it’s nice to know someone is there to take care of mom and look after her when I can’t.