“Wild, man,” one guy was chuckling. “No memory at all. I still can't believe it.”
“Believe it,” Jon laughed. “Wanna see the scar?”
“Nah, I'm too drunk for that shit.”
The guy wasn't lying, he could barely stay on his stool. It wasn't quite seven o'clock, but Jon thought maybe it was time to start calling it a night. He kept glancing at his phone, wondering when Kitty would text him, or if he should text her.
“So, you and Kitty have been together a while now, huh?” one guy asked as several others carted Drunky off to the bathroom.
“Huh? Oh, uh, maybe? What's a while? Since late December,” he answered, trying to think back.
“Three months, not bad, not bad. Real nice girl,” the guy commented, and Jon nodded.
“She's a sweetheart. Too sweet, you know? I'm not half good enough for her,” he replied. The dude shrugged.
“Don't sell yourself short, man. This time in three years, you'll be at a Hollywood premiere for a movie about your life.”
“Wouldn't that be awesome?” Jon laughed. Before they could keep bullshitting, though, the rest of their party returned. Well, all but one guy.
“Shit, we need to bounce. Reggie's puking his guts out.”
“I'll go hail a cab,” the guy he'd been talking to sighed, then he pulled a credit card out of his wallet and handed it to Jon. “Go take care of the tab, will you?”
Jon glanced around for a nearby waiter or waitress, but the restaurant was packed. There was a large, round bar in the center of the room. He figured if he headed up there, they could look up his ticket and take care of it. So after the other guys had hauled drunk-Reggie outside, Jon started making his way across the room.
The bar was slammed, and there seemed to be only one bartender behind it. Jon frowned. It would be forever before he got his attention. But while he was still half the room away, a waitress swooped in, hurrying up to the P.O.S. station on the end of the bar. He started walking faster, hoping to catch her, but it was already to late. She moved away from the register and started walking towards him, but on the opposite side of the room. Her head was down as she looked at an order in her hand.
Oh, well. Bartender it is.
He took four more steps when she lifted her head. He didn't know why it caught his attention, but it did. She lifted, and he looked. Their eyes caught each other and they both stopped moving.
That jolt. That sinking feeling, only times a million. Times infinity.
I know this woman.
She was staring back at him with the biggest, brightest blue eyes he'd ever seen. Pools, threatening to drown him. She lifted a hand and pressed it to her chest.
I know this woman.
Time stopped. There was no one else in the room but them. He kept staring and struggling to breathe and trying so hard to find his way back to her. Her? Her who?
Who are you?
She seemed to be having the same problem. She was breathing fast, her hand still on her chest, clutching the front of her shirt. She looked stunned, as if she were looking at a ghost. Then she opened her mouth, and even before she spoke, he knew what her voice sounded like.
“Jay?”
He didn't recognize the name, but he recognized her soul. They took a couple of halting steps towards each other, and then he was striding. And then she was running. And then they were crashing into each other, holding each other. He was shocked to realize he was crying.
“Where have you been?” she was sobbing. “I looked everywhere! Everywhere! God, I thought you were dead! I missed you.”
“I ...” he didn't know how to talk anymore. His throat had turned to ashes. He choked on words he couldn't remember how to speak. “I ...”
“Are you okay?” she asked, pulling away so she could look up at him. He missed her instantly.
You don't even know her.
“I don't know,” he whispered. She lifted a hand and gently swiped her fingers across his brow. A tender, intimate gesture. Familiar, yet completely alien.
“Jay, I can't believe it's you. You look so different!” she gasped, clinging to his arms. “Where have you been all this time? Did you ... Jay? Jayson!”
I don't know any Jason.
The edges of his vision had started turning black. The more she said, the worse it got, and when she said that name, that name he didn't know at all, he couldn't take it anymore. His eyes rolled up in his head and he started to fall backwards. She held onto him, but he knew it was pointless.
She's so tiny. How could she possibly stop me from falling?
10
God, he fucking hated hospitals.
When he'd first woken up, he'd been positive he was in some version of hell and that he was waking up from the accident all over again.
But he'd quickly realized he wasn't in Lenox Hill, and his accident had been months ago. He was all better, yup yup yup! Well, all except for his pesky missing memory. Darn that brain of his!
“I'm really touched, you know.”
The voice startled him out of his pity party and he jerked his head to the side. He was scared he'd see more ghosts, but it was just Mrs. Sloan.
“What?” he croaked out. His voice was hoarse, his throat dry.
“You have me listed as your emergency contact. They called me the minute you got here,” she explained, walking into his room and taking a seat near the bed.
“Well, you are like my mom,” he chuckled. She smiled, then reached out and grabbed his hand.
“Actually, your mother is forty-seven. Her name is Claudia Fairbanks,” she told him. He just stared at her, and when he didn't say anything, she kept speaking. “Your father's name is Lucas Fairbanks and he's fifty-eight. They live in Cedar Rapids, Iowa. She had you when she was just twenty-two.”
Jon took a deep breath and did some quick math.
“So I'm twenty-five?” he asked. She squeezed his fingers.
“Yes. You'll be twenty-six on July eighteenth,” she informed him. He laughed, but stopped before it could turn into a sob.
“Twenty-six,” he whispered. Then he looked around him, suddenly frantic. “How long have I been here? Did anyone call Gary Tupper? And where's Kitty? Someone should've called her, she should be here. And where's ...”
His voice died somewhere just past his lips.
You can't remember her name because you're not worthy of her.
“Kitty was here, but we sent her home. She wanted to stay, but both her mother and I felt she needed to get some rest,” Mrs. Sloan explained, her soothing voice working full throttle.
“I don't want her to worry,” he said, laying back down. He kept convulsively clenching his fists.
“Don't even think about it, Jon. I mean, of course she's worried, but she just wants you to feel better.”
“What happened?”
“You fainted. Hit your head pretty good on the side of a table, you've been out for about three hours,” she said, and he glanced at a clock. It was just after eleven at night. “The doctors were concerned, considering your history, so they wanted to let you wake up naturally. They're keeping you tonight and tomorrow for observation, but they did a lot of scans, and everything seems fine.”
He laughed at her statement.
“Yeah, totally fine, except I don't remember any of the things you just told me about.”
“How are you feeling?” she asked. He took a deep breath and stared straight up.
“Like I got hit with a semi truck,” he answered truthfully.
“You look like it,” she responded honestly, and he barked out a laugh. Good ol' Sloany, making him feel better even when he felt like death. It was just what he needed to get up the courage to ask his next question.
“Is she here?”
He didn't need to elaborate.
“Yes,” Mrs. Sloan responded. “She's been waiting this whole time. Both the doctor and I explained to her how it might be difficult for you, and how you might not want to see her. She said she un
derstood, and she just wants to make sure you're okay. Do you want me to tell her to go home?”
I want you to tell her to not exist. Life was less scary when it was all a blank.
“No. I want to meet her.”
“Jon, I really think you should rest. It's been -”
“Send her in.”
Sloany pressed her lips together and he could tell she thought about arguing, but then she let out a sigh and stood up. She held onto his hand for a little longer.
“We told her your medical history. What happened to you, your condition. She understands you don't remember, but Jon ... it'll be upsetting for her, too. Please keep that in mind,” she urged, squeezing his fingers tightly.
“I'll try. I will,” he insisted.
“Okay. Do you want me to be here?”
“No, thank you.”
“Okay. I'll be down by the nurse's station. Just press the buzzer if you need us.”
“I will. And Sloany ... thank you. I'm glad you're here. There's no one else I'd want more,” he said, squeezing her back. She smiled and patted the back of his hand.
“You're just trying to tempt me. I know you're wearing one of those hospital gowns without a back. Keep it in your pants,” she teased him, then she dropped his hand and walked out of the room.
A panic attack began to descend on him immediately. He gripped his blankets and struggled to breathe. Then he thought of Mrs. Sloan's voice, let it wash over him and calm him down. Pictured Kitty's smile and her soft touches.
Imagine blue eyes worshiping you, and skin so pristine you shouldn't be allowed to touch it.
There was a soft knock on the door jam, then light footsteps walking across the tiled floor. They came to a stop at the foot of his mattress and he finally lifted his head.
She was small, he remembered that much from the restaurant. Slight of build, too, but sort of rounded. Soft. She was wearing a uniform, black dress pants and a button down shirt with the restaurant's logo on it. She even still had on an apron with her receipt book in it. She had unruly dark hair, a thick mass of it. She'd swept it all to the side in an intricate, messy braid of some sort and left it to trail over her shoulder. She wasn't wearing any makeup, but she didn't need to – with eyes like hers, she could pierce right into his soul.
“Hi,” she said in a soft voice that hurt his heart. “How are you feeling?”
“Okay,” he replied, then cleared his throat. “Head hurts a little.”
“Yeah, you hit it pretty hard on the way down. I tried to stop you, but ...”
“I was too heavy,” he finished for her. She managed a smile.
“Yeah.”
There was a heavy, awkward silence. Jon couldn't take it.
“Please,” he said, gesturing to the chair Sloany had left empty. “Sit down.”
She did as she was told, crossing her feet at the ankles and sliding them under the chair. Then she placed her hands in her lap and looked everywhere around the room but at him.
“Your friend, Mrs. Sloan,” she finally spoke. “She seems really nice.”
“She is really nice,” he agreed. Then he decided it would be best to just get it over with. “I'm really sorry, you know.”
She finally looked at him.
“For what?”
“For not remembering,” he said simply. “For disappearing. I don't know what kind of person I was before, but I hope ... I like to think I wouldn't have done that to you on purpose.”
She smiled at him, and it broke his heart.
“You would never have done something like that, I never thought it for a moment,” she assured him. He took several deep breaths and had to look away from her. He rested his head back on the pillow and looked at the ceiling.
“Really? What was he ... I. What was I like?” he asked. She was silent for a very long time. A large tear escaped his eye and rolled down the side of his face. Then he felt her hand curling into his.
“You were ... life,” she said simply. “You were funny and you were generous. You had a smart mouth and a hot temper. A great laugh, and an even better smile. Anyone who met you, liked you. You could make friends just by walking into a room.”
“Is that true?” he whispered, and without looking, he knew she nodded.
“It is.”
“Then why didn't anyone look for me!?” he burst out, crushing her fingers in his grip. She didn't move a muscle.
“Our friends ... I'm not gonna lie. They weren't the best people. Maybe we weren't the best people, I don't know. But I looked, Jay. That's all I've been doing since October,” she told him. He couldn't control himself. All the emotions from the past five months came boiling out of him and he turned to glare at her.
“Oh, really? All you've been doing? Then how come you couldn't fucking find me? I was in the papers, on the news! You didn't check hospitals? Where were you when it happened? Why was I alone?” he demanded.
She took it all in stride. Didn't look scared or upset or offended. Just clung to his hand and kept that simple, sweet smile on her face. It made him feel like dying. If anything ever deserved to be remembered, it was her smile.
“I didn't know about the amnesia,” she said simply. “We lived way out in Brooklyn. That's where you fell, so that's where I looked. I looked in every single emergency room in Brooklyn, I swear to you. I've been kicked out of more than a few.”
“And not one of them knew where I was?”
“I don't know,” she sighed. “I wasn't ... I wasn't in a good place then. I don't know if I didn't know the right questions to ask, or what. Maybe I didn't know where to look. I always asked for you by name, but of course, no one knew your name. I feel stupid now. But I looked for you, I swear. I never stopped looking.”
He looked away from her again.
“Tell me about the accident.”
She took a deep breath and let it out slowly, then slipped her hand free from him.
“It was Halloween,” she started.
“I know that's when I was admitted,” he said.
“We had been to a bunch of parties. You were sort of like the king of parties,” she told him. “We just ... we drank way too much, and we got way too high on way too many different kinds of drugs. We were trying to go home, and I couldn't ... I couldn't hold on to you. You kept saying you could fly, and I kept trying to hold you, but Jay, you're so much bigger than me. I held on, but you just kept falling.”
She was crying into her hands. He was crying silently while he stared straight up.
“My name is Jon,” he whispered, and she cried even harder.
“You fell and you pulled me down with you,” she managed to pant out. “We both hit the tracks. I broke my ankle, but you, oh my god. There was so much blood. I thought you were dead and I started screaming. A man jumped down and picked me up, carried me back to the platform, but they were scared to move you. Thought maybe you'd broken your neck. So instead, they closed the lines and called an ambulance. Someone carried me back up to the street, but I couldn't stop screaming. Paramedics showed up and finally sedated me. I was taken into surgery for my ankle, and when I woke up, I wasn't even in New York anymore. My parents had been called, they had me transferred back to Connecticut, where I'm from.
“God, I wanted to come find you. They had to strap me into my bed. Then I was taken to my parents' house, with my foot in a cast, and I wasn't allowed to do anything. They were so scared, they'd had no idea how I'd been living. Hadn't known about the drugs and partying. They made me detox for weeks in their fucking house. Afterwards, I wasn't in any shape to do anything. I had to wait until they could take off my cast. You made the local news in New York, but I guess not in Connecticut, so I had no idea what had happened to you. Now I almost wonder ... maybe my parents kept the news from me, too. My phone had been shut off right before the accident because we couldn't pay, so I just didn't ... didn't know. But the moment I got fitted for a boot, I took the first train to New York, and I spent days going to every hospital in Bro
oklyn, even called a couple police stations, but I was scared. You'd had drugs on you when you fell, and if they didn't already know, I didn't want to get you in trouble. It didn't matter, anyway. No one could, or really wanted, to help me. It was like you'd disappeared. Like you were just gone.”
She was still crying, her shoulders heaving with the act, but he didn't know what to do. Part of him wanted to hold her, but another part of him knew it wouldn't be okay. Could possibly scare them both beyond repair. So he stayed still.
“I wonder,” he said, wiping at his face. “You said I had drugs on me?”
“Yeah,” she said, then hiccuped. “Yeah, you did.”
“I wonder what happened to them, because they weren't with any of the stuff I got back when I left the hospital.”
There was silence for a moment.
“Some nurse must have had a great time.”
He laughed first, which set her off, and then they were both in hysterics. Her laugh was gorgeous, like notes on a scale, and her face was meant to smile.
“It's weird, but I don't remember being a drug addict at all,” he finally started speaking. “They said I detoxed while I was unconscious.”
“You're lucky,” she sighed, leaning forward and crossing her arms on top of his mattress, then resting her chin on top of them. “It's not pleasant.”
“Were we both speed addicts?” he asked casually, trying to play it cool. She made a face.
“What? No. I'd only ever used it maybe twice before that night,” she replied. He glanced down at his arm, at the now faded scar from a needle mark.
“Seems like injecting is pretty serious. I figured I was an addict,” he said.
“Injecting? What are you talking about?”
He showed her the scar and told her what the doctors had all said. She examined the spot, holding his arm in her hands. Little bolts of electricity fired off under his skin.
“That's got to be what that is,” he said. She nodded, a frown causing a crease in her forehead.
“Crash,” she sighed. “The last party on Halloween, you stayed inside after I'd gone outside. When you finally did come out, you were like a live wire. He must have shot you up.”
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