Chapter 10
Charlotte
Three Months Earlier
Unlocking the door to my apartment, I step inside and glance around.
So much has changed, yet everything remains the same.
What did I expect?
I sigh and roll the different-colored suitcases inside.
You left with a carry-on and came back with more baggage...lots of baggage.
For the millionth time, Xander’s face pops into my mind. I curse myself again, but no matter how often I do, it doesn’t stop the ache in my heart or the constant reel playing in my head about Xander.
My foot has been healing over the last several months, and I finally got a walking cast. The first chance I had to leave New York, I did. Piper and Noah were more than gracious hosts, but I assumed if I could get out of the city where Xander was, it would be easier to forget about him.
But I can’t. He was only in my apartment one time, but he’s everywhere. He’s in my kitchen and sitting on my barstool. He’s in my shower and bed. Then I notice, taped to my fridge, all the notes from the flowers he sent me every week.
The notes always say, “Don’t forget me,” and how much he misses me.
Don’t forget me. Isn’t that a cruel joke?
Through angry tears, I tear the notes off the fridge. I try not to blame him for our situation because he has amnesia, and it’s not his fault, but at this moment, I wish I could hate him.
But I can’t.
I take all the note cards and consider throwing them out, but I stop myself. The lid of the trash can is open, and I’m about to drop them in, but I can’t do it. Instead, I open an empty drawer and put them in there.
I spend the day dusting my apartment. When I left for New York, it was the beginning of summer, and now it’s fall.
Bored, I turn on the television and get sucked into a deeper depression, watching Lifetime and Hallmark channel movies, imagining all the things I would do with Xander had the accident not happened.
I’m halfway through a box of Kleenex when my phone vibrates. I pick it up to find a Words with Friends notification that NYSurgeon has made a move.
My pulse increases, and my stomach flips. Xander. Does he remember?
Hope creeps up, and I read the board. “Contusion,” he wrote.
I can’t help myself and open the chat box. “Nice one.”
I’m studying the board, seeing what word I can write when the chat box blinks I have a message. I hold my breath and open it. “Guess I had enough time to figure it out. Sorry it took so long. I got a notification I was behind. I don’t use my phone much these days.”
He still doesn’t remember. My gut drops, and I tell myself to delete the app, but instead, I torment myself further.
“It’s okay. Things happen.”
“Isn’t that the cruel truth.”
Right away, I respond, “Are you okay?”
A minute goes by. “I’m sorry. I’m having some memory issues. Do I know you?”
My heart bleeds more. I debate about telling him, but I finally write, “Only on here. You don’t have to worry about anything you say. Think of this as a safe zone since you don’t know me besides my awesome talent at medical term Scrabble.”
“LOL. You do seem to be pretty good at this.”
“I beat you quite a bit.”
“Ouch.”
“LOL...sorry, but not sorry?” We banter back and forth.
“So, where are you located?” Xander writes.
I almost write Chicago but put, “The Midwest.”
“That’s why you’re so nice!”
“So they say. You must be from New York based on your user ID.”
“Yes.”
For months, I told Piper not to talk to me about Xander, but it’s killing me, not knowing how he’s doing. I type, “Is it hard not remembering things?”
“You want the answer I give everyone or the honest one?”
“The honest one.”
“What’s hard is other people telling you what you should or shouldn’t feel. They don’t get it. If you aren’t in my shoes, you can’t understand it.”
“Go on,” I tell him, just to torture myself more.
“Your memories all have feelings attached to them. So if you can’t remember something, it doesn’t matter how many times someone tells you what happened and how you felt.”
Tears fall, as I know he’s talking about Billie, but I keep chatting with him.
“That makes sense,” I write because it’s the truth. I understand his rationale.
“My memories are coming back, but it’s in waves, and it’s like my brain is a mishmash of puzzle pieces with too many holes.”
“That must be difficult.”
“I won’t lie. It got pretty dark a month ago.”
My pulse creeps up. “What do you mean?”
He doesn’t write back. After ten minutes, I try again, “I’m sorry if I pried too much.”
“You didn’t. I’m trying to figure out what to say without sounding pathetic.”
“Don’t worry about that.”
“I fell into a bad depression. I wished I’d gotten killed in the accident or just not woken up.”
More tears fall out of my eyes. “Do you still feel that way?”
“Not anymore. I’m remembering things. So I have hope again.”
“Never give up. Even when it seems pointless, hope is always something to hold on to.” I wonder if he remembers anything about me.
“I’m going to write that down. That’s a good reminder for me.”
I want to tell him who I am. To ask him if he remembers anything about me, but I don’t.
“Hey, my buddy is here for our run. I need to go. Finish this game later?”
“Sure. Have a good run.”
“Thanks for not judging me.”
“I never will. You can throw whatever you want at me.”
“Thanks. It’s nice to talk to someone who doesn’t know me.”
A pain of guilt stabs me. Instead of confessing, I write, “Agree. Talk to you later.”
I throw my phone on the couch and stare into space for a while, reflecting on everything Xander revealed.
No matter how much time goes by, I can’t shake him, and having spoken with him, my love for him isn’t any less than before. But now I’m worried about him and his mental state.
I spend the day with our conversation haunting me. When nighttime comes, I get into bed, pull up the Words with Friends chat box, and reread the conversation.
I don’t message him, but I take my next move on the board then put my phone on the table.
Within a few minutes, a notification pops up on my phone. We don’t message each other but only play the game. At the end of the game, I place my final word on the board and beat him. A message pops up. “Nice game. Your medical vocabulary is extensive. Are you a doctor?”
I hesitate for a minute then decide to tell him the truth. “No, I’m a medical device rep and assist the doctors in surgery.”
“Ah. That makes sense.”
“How was your run?”
“Great. Want to play again?”
“Yes.”
He begins another game, and we play several. We banter back and forth during each of the games, and I feel joy for the first time in months. At three in the morning, I’m yawning and having a hard time keeping my eyes open. “I need to get some sleep.”
“Thanks for playing. This is the most fun I’ve had in a long time.”
My heart lifts. “Me, too.”
“Get some sleep. I’ll work on upgrading my vocab to beat your ass next time.”
“Sounds good. Sweet dreams.”
“Night.”
I put my phone on the table and wrap my arms around my pillow. My mind is racing with so many thoughts of Xander. We’re still so good together.
I close my eyes. With mixed emotions, I fall asleep, only to have nightmares of our accident, and hear Xander moaning in pain.
And even though I’m aware it’s bad for me, night after night, and sometimes during the day, I play Words with Friends with Xander, laughing and crying over our messages.