From This Day Forward

by Shannon Myers

  I look into the bathroom to find that there’s a beautiful chandelier suspended above the deep tub. My man delivered.

  I want to hug him, I’m so happy. I feel like it’s Christmas Day and I just received everything on my list. Super hot husband who’s madly in love with me? Check. A house that’s the manifestation of every design fantasy I’ve had? Double check. I pad back into the bedroom, ready to thank him, when I hear his deep, even breathing. He looks pretty good even when he’s completely exhausted. I kick off my shoes and crawl under the covers next to him.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  I dream of a darkened bedroom and warm skin draped over me like a blanket. His lips brush mine and I am on fire. “You taste so good,” he sighs against my mouth and his voice alone could send me over the edge. I find my hands roaming over the stubble on his face and up into his shaggy hair, anything to try and anchor myself. He pulls back and looks at me. “Are you sure?” His voice is just above a whisper. We’ve reached a crossroads here and I find myself in unfamiliar territory. Tonight, he offered me everything by asking me to marry him and in return, I want to give him all of me. With trembling hands and a racing heart, I look into his eyes to answer him, “Yes, I want this—I want you.” He brings my jittery hands up and places a kiss on each one. “Trust me?” I nod with a shiver. He reaches over to his nightstand and grabs a foil packet. He asks me again, “Are you sure?” and I bring my mouth up to his in response. Inside I’m quaking, but I need him. What if I’m not any good? What if he thinks he made a mistake? He cups the side of my face with his hand and I focus on his eyes and push the negative thoughts away. My hands press against his shoulders, not sure whether I want to draw him in or push him out as the pain radiates throughout my lower body. He breaks through a barrier and warmth spreads around us. I’m bleeding. Something’s wrong. Sensing my unease, he stills, “It’s okay, it’s normal. Do you want me to stop?” Afraid that my voice no longer works, I shake my head vigorously—no. He enters me further and the pain subsides. My body begins to take over and I now see why people enjoy this. The pleasure begins to build. He never takes his eyes off of mine and I have never felt so safe. He pushes me to the brink and I fall, crying out his name.

  “Beth? Beth, wake up,” I open my eyes and it takes me a second to get my bearings and remember where I am. David’s hands are on my arms, a troubled look on his face, “Are you okay? You were moaning in your sleep, I thought you might be hurting.” I’m certain my face just became a lovely shade of crimson and I force my eyes closed from the sheer embarrassment of it all. I have to say something. “I had a nightmare.” Yes, very good. Nice save. I open my eyes to gauge his reaction and find him grinning wolfishly down at me. Yeah, he’s not buying that.

  “You had a nightmare, huh? Because, I gotta be honest with you—you’re wearing your ‘I just had a sex dream’ face. Come to think of it, those didn’t really sound like moans of pain either.” I bite my lower lip in frustration and manage to sit up, crossing my arms across my chest in an attempt to subdue my nipples.

  “Yes, it was a very frightening-um-nightmare. Thank you for waking me up.” Throw an “um” in there and he’ll totally buy it now. My inner romantic is fanning herself to cool down. I need to change the subject and quickly before my body takes over and I decide to re-enact my dream with him. Think of something off-topic. Like the weather, or sports, or—“So, I was a virgin when we met?” Oh God. That’s not a different topic at all. My inner romantic tosses the fan down and sits up eagerly.

  Now, it’s David’s turn to look shocked. Obviously, he didn’t see the conversation going here. He opens and closes his mouth several times, choosing his words no doubt. “Yeah—wait. That’s what you dreamed about—the night I asked you to marry me? It is isn’t it?” I nod at him and he runs his tongue across his teeth, “Oh Beth that was an amazing night. You were just…” His voice trails off as he meanders down memory lane. He lightly runs his fingers up the inside of my thigh. My stomach growls and he snaps back to reality. “We’ll come back to this later, but first—let’s get you some dinner.”

  I’m looking through the fridge trying to find something to cook up for us. Saturday is my grocery shopping day, I think, and seeing as to how I was in the hospital then, the shelves are just about empty. I scrounge up a bag of salad greens and a tomato.

  “David? I think we may need to order in tonight. Unless a salad will fill you up?”

  He stops rummaging through the pantry, “I don’t think so. I’ll run out and get us something. Jess is on her way over to see you,” He runs his hand through his hair, “Anything you’re hungry for?”

  Just you—no, you cannot say that. I compose my thoughts, “Maybe pizza?” Good girl.

  “I’ll swing by West Crust. Sound good?”

  I smile, “I love their pizza?” I’m assuming so or he wouldn’t have suggested it.

  He walks over and kisses me, “I’ll be back soon. Jess should be here any moment.” I wrap my arms around his waist and slide my hands into the back pocket of his jeans, pulling him in closer to me. The man is leaving me breathless.

  “Maybe once she’s gone, we can get back to our discussion.” That was brazen—I’m just as surprised by what’s coming out of my mouth as he is.

  He taps his index finger against my lips, “Have I told you how lucky I am?” before heading out to the garage.

  I decide to explore my house some more while I wait for Jess to arrive. I walk over to the fireplace and stare at our wedding picture. We’re standing outside. I’m wearing a gorgeous pearl tea-length gown and my hair is side-swept into loose curls. David is wearing a white dress shirt and cream-colored linen pants. It’s so simple and informal. If only I could remember it.

  There are two guest bedrooms down the hall and I make my way into them. The first one holds a wrought iron bed and more painted furniture. It’s very shabby chic. The second room is empty—this must be the nursery. My heart tightens a little as I look around. Why can’t I get pregnant? I’ve never had any complications or issues during my yearly exams—I mean as far as I can remember. It’s a mystery. However, the doorbell prevents me from dwelling on it further.

  I open the front door to find Jess holding a small bag. “I’ve brought my stuff to clean up that shaggy mess your husband calls hair. Where’s David?” She tosses the words over her shoulder to me as she comes inside and sets down all her stuff on the dining room table.

  “He went to grab some food for dinner.”

  “Well, the minute he gets back, I’m trimming that hair.”

  “I kind of like it longer. I think he should leave it.” Jess purses her lips as though she is going to argue, but decides against it and sits down on the sofa

  I sit down opposite her, “Did you know we’d been trying to have a baby?” I give up. Every stray thought is going to force its way out of my mouth it seems.

  Jess nods sadly.

  “Are David and I seeing a fertility specialist or anything like that?”

  “Well, most specialists won’t see you until you’ve been trying for over a year, so no.”

  I don’t say anything. Time for a topic change—“Jess, can you grab my phone?” My head is starting to hurt again.

  “I’m pretty sure your phone was destroyed in the car wreck.”

  Of course it was. Everything I thought I knew about my life was destroyed in that car wreck, what’s a cell phone compared to that?

  We sit in silence together, neither of us knowing quite what to say to the other when David gets back with the pizza. He smiles when he sees me and walks over to the couch, “You feeling okay, babe? Up for some pizza?”

  I smile and nod at him, feeling every bit the awkward teenager.

  I can’t keep the smile off my face when I notice Jess studying me. When she realizes I’m watching her, she looks away. ‘David, you ready to get rid of that shaggy mess?” That’s weird. It was like she was gauging my reaction to him.

  He looks over at her for th
e first time since he walked in, “Nah, Jess. I’m thinking of keeping it this length. And I don’t wanna rush you, but I’d really love to have a quiet dinner with my wife—” At that, the doorbell rings again. Are we always this popular?

  David walks over and opens the door to—Mike? I feel as though I might be sick. He greets David with a hug. “I was in the neighborhood and thought I’d drop by and check on the patient. How are you holding up, man?”

  “I’m fine. That hospital cot was a bitch though. As for Beth, I’ll let you see for yourself.” He gestures over to me and Mike gives Jess a head tip before coming to stand before me.

  “You look good, Elizabeth. How are you feeling?” I can feel my heart racing in my chest. I have so many questions for the man in front of me. If he’s not Landon’s best friend then he’s—“Are you and David close?”

  He shoots a look of confusion over my shoulder at David. Jess cuts in, “Mike, Lizzie cannot remember much of her life before the wreck. She didn’t even know who David was.”

  Mike looks stricken by the revelation. “What the fuck, man? You said she was banged up, you failed to mention amnesia. Is it permanent?”

  “You know I’m sitting right here. You could just ask me,” I laugh as I say it even though my every nerve is strung as tight as a bow string.

  “Mike, let’s talk on the patio and give the ladies a few minutes to catch up before dinner. I’ll meet you outside, let me just get my beautiful wife a drink first.” He goes over to the bar area where there’s a wine refrigerator sitting on the counter. Oh, how did I miss that before? More wine? Wait, that’s not wine—it’s champagne! “You know that champagne is my favorite?”

  Jess looks up from her phone and snorts with laughter, “Lizzie, everyone knows that champagne is your favorite.”

  David pauses in opening the bottle and lowers his voice, “Of course. I also know that it is absolutely not because it feels like a tickle when the bubbles touch your lips.”

  He laughs at my open-mouthed expression. So much for keeping that tidbit to myself—“That was supposed to be a secret.”

  He pours me a glass and brings it over to me. “I promise not to tell a soul,” he whispers and kisses me on the nose before going outside to meet Mike.

  Jess remains deep in thought over something on her phone. I sit back down on the couch with my champagne and wait for her to finish. She and I need to talk.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  I decide to take the bull by the horns while my husband is preoccupied, “Jess, why were you staring at me earlier? You looked pretty intense.”

  She looks down at her phone again, avoiding eye contact with me. “I don’t know, Lizzie. You just seemed so happy and relaxed, but also—vulnerable. I just don’t remember the last time I saw you like that—you usually seemed stressed out over something; this accident just seems to have made you different—in a good way.”

  —Vulnerable? If only she could’ve seen me in my imaginary past life? “I’m sorry. I didn’t want it to sound like I was trying to come down on you, but I just felt like you were judging me. I wanted to clear the air so that I don’t replay it over and over in my head later.”

  She scoots over next to me and takes my hand, “We were so worried after the wreck when you wouldn’t wake up and now I guess I’m still expecting to catch glimpses of the old you in there. Please know that I would never judge you. You are such a good person, Lizzie.” I dab at my eyes with my fingers. She really is like the sister I never had. She leaves soon after, insisting she has dinner plans.

  I’m sitting on the couch, working through my second glass of champagne and a slice of pizza while watching the neighborhood kids revel in the last hour of daylight when David comes back in alone.

  “Where’s Mike?”

  He grabs a slice of pizza and comes over to me, “He got called in to work a shift tonight, so he had to run.”

  “What is it that he does exactly?”

  David laughs, “I’m an idiot. Of course you don’t know what he does. He’s a cop, Beth. Do you remember him, from before?”

  “A little,” I swallow hard, “Isn’t he uh married to Katie?” My palms are sweating as I wait for him to respond.

  He looks at me as though I’ve grown two heads, “Mike, married? Jesus, Beth, you really don’t remember him at all do you?”

  My cheeks burn and I feel like a moron. David leans over and grabs my hand, his voice soft, “Hey, I didn’t mean to make you feel bad. I get it, I do—you’ve got a lot of questions. It’s just that the idea of Mike remaining with one woman long enough to marry her is almost impossible to imagine.” He laughs again and I swear, I could listen to that sound all day.

  Seeing that I’m content, he leaves me to take a shower and “wash off the hospital.” I’m just psyching myself up to join him when he walks back in wearing a pair of black athletic shorts and nothing else, his hair damp. He grabs another slice of pizza and a beer from the fridge before coming back over to me. Do not stare at his well-sculpted chest. Do not stare at his tattoos. Keep your cool. He is not a piece of meat…a delicious cut of prime rib…Fuck.

  “Beth, you want some more pizza? You’re staring at it like you’re starving.”

  “Uh, no thank you. I’m good—just zoned out,” Nice save. I’m mentally high-fiving myself when I notice something. “Is that my name across your ribs?”

  He pauses mid-bite and glances down to where my name is engraved on the left side of his chest, starting at the base of his ribs and curving upward, “Yeah, I got it when we got married. I had it done across my ribs because of a passage I like in the Bible—‘This one is bone from my bone and flesh from my flesh! She will be called woman, because she was taken from man.’ It’s from Genesis 2:23 when Eve is created for Adam.”

  I blink quickly to dispel the tears—I’m touched. In this moment, I realize just how much I love this man and how much he loves me. On the other hand, he now looks like he wants to crawl under a rock. “David, I’m blown away. That’s the most beautiful thing anyone has ever done for me.” There’s no blinking away these tears and it quickly becomes full-on weeping. This is all stress from the accident. It’s completely normal. I just feel so undeserving of all of this.

  He sets the beer and pizza down and pulls me to my feet. “You know, you loved the tattoo when I got it, but showing it to you again—I was a little nervous. They say head injuries can do weird things to a person; stuff that you loved before, you hate, and vice-versa. It’s a lot of pressure for a man!” He laughs and I lean against him, smiling.

  Suddenly serious, he tilts my chin up, “I love you— more than anything in this world and I would give my life protecting you. I need you to know that.” He wipes my tears away with his thumb and kisses me.

  “I love you too, David. Part of me feels like I just met you two days ago, but there’s another part that feels like it’s been us—you and me— forever,” He leans down to kiss me again and I stop him, “Can I just take a minute, please? I just want to shower and compose myself.”

  He agrees and I go into the bathroom, locking the door behind me. What if this isn’t real? What if I’m still lying on the patio at Nick’s? Maybe this is like that movie The Family Man and I’m having a glimpse of what my life could be like with David.

  My head is starting to hurt again. If it’s just a glimpse, that doesn’t explain the memories of life with him coming back though. I also don’t know how to explain how I have memories of a life with a man who doesn’t exist either. You know what? I don’t care what the explanation is. I have a man in that living room that loves me and makes me feel alive. I take a deep breath to steady myself and glance over at the tub. A bubble bath is much more appealing than a shower. I need to scrub the hospital off of my skin and it’ll buy me a little more time to relax and clear my mind.

  While the water runs, I pick up an iPod from its docking station on the bathroom counter. Let’s see what we’ve got to work with here. How many country songs can one ma
n listen to? Aren’t there any play-lists? Ooh, “Beth’s wind-down music”—that looks promising. Don’t mind if I do.

  I ease into the deep tub of steamy water and mountains of bubbles and sigh happily. David’s always getting on to me for running the water so hot, “If your skin turns dark red, the water is way too hot.” I’m constantly reminding him that I want to ensure the germs I’ve picked up throughout the day die a fiery death.

  I jolt. Wow. I just regained a memory, while still conscious. Surely, that’s a sign of progress. John Mayer is crooning softly about the edge of desire and I slip under the water with a smile on my face.

  I pull myself reluctantly from the warm water some time later to see that it is fully dark outside. I wrap a towel around me and step into my closet. I feel something prick the back of my mind, but no matter how much I try to focus, I can’t decipher what it is I’m supposed to remember.

  Ellie Goulding’s wailing pulls me back to the present and I smile to myself. Anything could happen. Tonight, I’m going to test that theory. I find myself moving to the beat of the music and singing along as I sift through the wooden drawers, stopping only when my sore ribs protest.

  I stand in front of the bathroom mirror, evaluating my choice in lingerie. The ivory slip has a lace halter top and a satin body with more lace at the hemline. He certainly won’t misinterpret your intentions in this. Maybe I should just stick with a baggy t-shirt and a pair of shorts. My inner romantic gives my current choice a thumbs up. I quash my doubts and pull my hair out of a bun, letting the loose curls run wild. After checking my reflection for the umpteenth time (I still look pretty rough with the cuts and bruises down the side of my face), I take my glasses off and leave them by the sink before switching off the music and lights and going back into the bedroom.

  I can hear the television going in the living room. He’s sprawled out across the couch catching up on the sports world while simultaneously checking his work emails. I’m startled by the thought. It would be nice if my brain would just release all the memories at once and not little trickles of information at unexpected moments such as this.