Six Weeks of Loving You

by Karli Perrin

  “Did Roxy not tell you? Or Connie?”

  “No. They said I should hear it from you. I wasn’t going to ask, since it isn’t going to change anything, but I’ve spent the last two weeks wondering about it and making up different scenarios in my head.”

  He smiles sadly and strokes the back of my hand. “I met you the day of the accident. I was one of the first paramedics to arrive at the scene.”

  I get chills. “You were?” He nods. “I’ve seen some newspaper clippings, but I can’t bring myself to read about it. It’s too horrible. I’m sorry you had to experience that. I’m sorry you have to carry the memories around with you, when I don’t.”

  “You have nothing to apologize for.”

  “Did you see me? I mean…did you treat me?”

  “Yes. I’m the one who checked you over and took you to the hospital. I stayed by your side all day.”

  “Wait. Is the accident the reason why you quit?”

  “Partly. I still have nightmares now and again. But also, I wanted to be with you. The shifts were too awkward. I wanted to be there for you when your memory wiped. That’s why I started working at Sanctum, because you write there most days.”

  That only confirms that what I’m about to do is the right thing.

  “Life is too short, Spencer. I want you to go out and live a full life. You don’t deserve to live a lie, hiding things and not being able to voice how you feel. You deserve to be told that you’re loved every single day.”

  He wraps his arms around me and begins to cry. “Is this really goodbye? Are you asking me to walk away from you?”

  I swallow hard. “Yes.”

  His voice shakes. “I don’t know how to live without you, Cora.”

  My heart is pounding, my palms are sweaty, and my cheeks are wet. “You went twenty-eight years without me, Spencer. I’m sure you can do it again.” I’ve never been good at goodbyes, and so I do what I do best. I make light of a shitty situation. The shittiest of shit situations. “I think this is the part where I’m supposed to say I’ll miss you, but we both know that would be a lie. I won’t miss you. Not even a tiny bit.” Even though I started to mourn him two weeks ago, it hasn’t made saying goodbye any easier. Not now that I’m looking into his eyes. It’s almost enough to make me change my mind. Almost.

  He laughs, but tears stream down his face. “I hate what you’re making me do, Cora, but love will always triumph hate. And if this is truly what you want, then I need to respect that. Because true love is about putting the other person before yourself. I’d put you first every damn time.”

  I squeeze his hand. “And true love is also wanting what’s best for the other person, even when that doesn’t include you.”

  He holds me in his arms and then kisses me for the final time. I think back to L.A., kissing him under the stars. That kiss had felt like a first kiss, whereas this kiss feels like a goodbye. “Thank you for the most incredible eighteen months, Cora. You have truly changed my life for the better. You’ve taught me how to love fiercely and you’ve made me realize the power of memories. Not just making them but keeping them. It’s something that we all take for granted. I’ve heard people say that memories are the currency of our lives, but love is my currency, and I’m a very rich man because of you.”

  “Thank you for being so good to me. Thank you for loving me, even when I couldn’t love you back.” I let go of his hand. “Goodbye, Spencer.”

  “I can’t watch you walk away.” He closes his eyes. “Goodbye, Sunshine.”

  ***

  That night, I cry myself to sleep.

  And when I wake up the next morning, I have no idea why my pillow is damp.

  Chapter Twenty Five

  Chapter One

  I’ve never liked mornings. So when I walk into my favorite coffee shop on the corner of Pine Street, I breathe a little sigh of relief. The owner wasn’t joking when they decided to name it Sanctum. A coffee lovers paradise smelling like freshly ground heaven. I inhale deeply in the hopes that the caffeine will somehow get into my bloodstream quicker. I may not be a morning person but I’m definitely a coffee person. I already feel impossibly happier and I’m only a couple of steps into the shop.

  Roxanne; my childhood best friend of twenty-five years, waves at me from behind the counter. I may be a little biased but she’s the best barista I know. The best artist I know. Apparently, latte art has been listed as one of the hardest things a person could ever learn, yet Roxy can create anything. And I mean anything. Animals, superheroes, penises - I’ve seen them all. She isn’t a flowers and hearts kind of girl - or a generic rosetta design for that matter. Apart from the odd surprise, I can usually count on her to leave me something Harry Potter related on top of my Cappuccino.

  I head in her direction but stop in my tracks when I notice a wet patch on the floor. I walk around it. “Woah, that was close. Unless you want a lawsuit on your hands, I’d mop that up.”

  Roxy sighs. “I asked Jade to do it five minutes ago. I don’t like firing people, but I think I’m going to have to.”

  “Which one is Jade?”

  “The nineteen-year-old who is probably taking selfies in the stockroom as we speak. I only hired her because…” she stops talking midsentence.

  “Because?” I ask, raising one eyebrow.

  “Because the last guy quit. So I had to hire somebody quickly but I’ll have to wait for somebody more qualified. Do you want your usual?”

  “Yes, please.”

  “Sit down, I’ll bring it over. I just need to find Jade first.” She rolls her eyes before walking away.

  I grab a table next to the window and open my laptop. Sitting by the window has always helped with my writing. If I’m struggling, I like to take inspiration from the people who walk by.

  About an hour later, when I’m plotting a new book, a real-life book boyfriend walks by. He’s on the opposite side of the road, so I can’t make out his features, but I can see that he’s beautiful. He glances over at me, and we lock eyes for a moment. My stomach does a somersault when he stops walking and looks like he’s about to come over. But a second later, he smiles and carries on walking.

  And I smile because little does he know he’s just become the inspiration for my main character.

  Five years later

  We’re in L.A. The sky is clear. The stars are bright. He leans in and kisses me softly. It feels like a first kiss.

  We’re doing the dishes together when he asks me to dance. I tell him there’s no music, so he begins to sing You Are My Sunshine.

  We’re in a gas station and he’s making fun of me for looking at his peachy ass.

  We’re buying a car. I announce that I’m going to call her Pamela.

  We’re in a room covered in mirrors, being taught the waltz.

  He’s standing on my doorstep, holding out dead flowers.

  We’re sitting on the floor in his apartment, admiring our painting skills.

  We’re watching Netflix…

  and then suddenly we’re not watching Netflix.

  He’s introducing me to his family over Sunday lunch. My cheeks are sore from smiling so much.

  We’re in the car, singing along to cheesy pop music at the top of our lungs.

  He’s down on one knee, asking me to be his wife.

  ***

  “I have something to tell you.”

  Roxy gasps. “You’ve had sex!”

  “No!” I wave her away. “Not even close. I’ve been wanting to talk to you about something for a while now, but I needed to try and make sense of it all first.”

  “Make sense of what?”

  I take a deep breath. “I’ve been having flashbacks.”

  “Since when?”

  “They started about a year ago.”

  “A year ago?!”

  “Yes. It was only a couple at first, but they’re becoming more frequent.” I pause. “And I’ve also been having dreams…”

  “Okay…”

 
“About a man.” I hold my hand up when her eyes go wide. “Don’t get carried away. They might not mean anything.”

  She places her coffee down. “Tell me more.”

  “It’s always the same man. I can picture him so clearly. He’s tall and handsome, with messy brown hair and a smile that screams trouble. I’ve been keeping a diary, and I took it with me to my neurologist appointment last week.”

  “And? What did they say?”

  “Well…they think it could be real memories filtering in.” She slaps her hand over her mouth. “They want to hook me up to some kind of sleep monitoring machine to try and find out what’s going on with my brain. They’re confused as hell…but in a good way.”

  “Wow.”

  “I know.”

  “Cora…could this…could this be the start of getting your memories back?”

  “I don’t know. I hope so. I don’t want to jinx it, but it sure seems that way. The dreams that I’ve been having…they’re different to all my others. They feel so real, more like actual memories. It’s just frustrating because the only way I’ll ever know for sure would be to find the man. Find him and ask him about the dreams and flashbacks. I know that’s ridiculous, because I’ll never be able to but…”

  “What if you could?” she interrupts.

  “What?”

  “What if you could find him? Would you really want to know? It’s been a long time since the accident.”

  “Of course I would want to know. I feel like there’s something missing in my life…like I’m searching for a missing puzzle piece.”

  “But what if it opened old wounds? Isn’t it better to keep the past in the past?”

  “I’m willing to take the risk. I need to know what it all means.”

  “Are you sure? Have you thought about this properly?”

  “It’s all I’ve been thinking about recently.” I laugh. “Stop worrying. I’m probably making him up.”

  Her eyes fill with tears as she takes hold of my hand. “You’re not.”

  “What?”

  “He’s real.”

  My heart stops. “Do you…do you know who I’m talking about? Do you know who he is?” She nods. “Where is he? Can you take me to him?”

  “It’s been five years since you last saw him. Are you sure you want to do this? Are you sure you want to know?”

  I get chills throughout my entire body. “I don’t just want to know. I need to know.”

  She nods and pulls her cell out of her pocket. “Then I guess I have a call to make.”

  ***

  I turn around when the little bell chimes.

  And that’s when I see him.

  The man of my dreams.

  He looks out of breath, as though he’s been running. Running back to me.

  He stands at the door for a few seconds, holding onto the doorframe as though he needs it for support. Emotional support, if he’s feeling anything like I am.

  I stand up when he walks over to me. My eyes fall to his paramedic uniform and then to his name badge. “Hello, Spencer.”

  “Hello, Cora.”

  We stand in silence for a long moment until I finally whisper, “Am I dreaming?”

  He laughs softly. “It feels like it, doesn’t it?”

  I see every single emotion flash before his eyes. Where do we even start? I clear my throat. “Did you leave work to come and meet me?”

  “Yes. I came as soon as I could.”

  “We can arrange it for a different day if you…”

  “No. I don’t want to wait. I’ve waited long enough.”

  “Well, thank you for coming. I know this must be a little crazy for you.”

  He chuckles, and it feels like a warm embrace. It feels like home. “Just a little bit.”

  “Do you…” I pause, afraid to ask the next question. Even more afraid of the answer. “Do you have a family, Spencer? A wife? Perhaps we should include her too. I don’t want to cause any problems. I can’t just come back into your life and expect…”

  “I don’t have a wife,” he interrupts. “Or a girlfriend. Not since you.” His eyes go soft. “But I do have a son.”

  My heart flutters as tears fill my eyes. “You have a son? Oh, Spencer, that’s so wonderful. What’s his name?”

  “Benjamin. Benjamin Sawyer. He’s three and bosses me around every weekend. I can’t say no to him. Me and his mother…we were never together. But I think we’re doing pretty good with the whole co-parenting thing.”

  I smile. “I’m sure you are. My nephew turns three next month. I have a niece, too. She’s four going on forty.” I look down at my coffee when his eyes become a little too intense. “I’m sorry, I’m being rude. Since you’ve come straight from work, do you need anything? I’d offer to buy you a coffee, but I know you don’t drink it so…”

  I stop talking when his eyes go wide. He glances over at Roxy behind the counter, and then back to me. “You…you remember that I don’t drink coffee?”

  “Yes. But I don’t know what you drink instead, so it’s not very helpful, I know.” I laugh nervously. “Would you like a water…or maybe some tea?”

  “You know…I haven’t eaten anything since breakfast. Would you like to grab some lunch and we can carry on talking some more? We have a lot to catch up on.”

  “Sure. That sounds great.” I smile. “I know this awesome little taco place...”

  The End.

  Acknowledgements

  To FIFA. Thank you for keeping my husband occupied while I write.

  To my mum. I can’t afford to buy you a car yet, so I named one after you instead.

  To Karen and Sarah. Thank you for your help with The Honey Trappers group. You keep it ticking over when I’m in the writing cave for months on end.

  To Roxy. Thank you for your patience once again, and for letting me steal your name. Semicolon close bracket.

  To Danielle. Thank you for helping me sound less British. Who knew hot water bottles weren’t a thing over there?!

  To Denise. Thank you for your advice, and for persuading me not to kill Spencer…

  To my blogger friends. Thank you for taking the time out of your busy schedules to read my work. Every single like, share, and comment is very much appreciated.

  And last but not least, to my readers. Thank you for supporting me. I couldn’t do this without you!

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