Chapter 9
CHAPTER
NINE
Florian
Gray light floods the modern apartment with its shiny gray stone countertops and matching gray stone floor. A gray sofa sits beside floor-to-ceiling windows that reveal a skyline of matching gray buildings.
“Wunderbar!” My mother claps her hands together.
I can’t believe I made it to the US.
A vanilla scent wafts around me, and my cells settle. Mateo is beside me.
“Is anything familiar?” Mateo asks.
I shake my head.
“You’ll remember it,” he says, and I nod, hoping he’s right.
I stare at my couch, my coffee table, my cabinets, wondering if anything will trigger me and make me remember these past six weeks.
Nothing does.
I must have good memories here.
What good times have I forgotten?
Did we make out on the sofa? Did I like it?
Sometimes I watch movies where people kiss, and the whole thing seems distasteful. The only times women have kissed me, I haven’t enjoyed it.
But when I see Mateo, all I can think about is pulling him closer and kissing him. I want to taste his pink lips.
“But where should we stay?” My mother interrupts my musings, and I force my gaze from Mateo’s lips.
“This is a one-bedroom apartment!” my mother exclaims.
My family look at Mateo.
Annika’s eyes are narrow. “I know Florian has lost his memory. You haven’t though.”
Mateo draws back. I glare at my sister and wrap an arm around Mateo. He glances at me, surprised.
“Do not scare my boyfriend,” I tell Annika.
“Just saying,” she huffs.
“I-I thought you would all want to stay here.” Mateo pulls out his phone quickly. “I can order sleeping bags! And blow-up mattresses!”
My parents exchange glances.
“I know you want to be close to Florian,” he tells my mother.
She melts.
So do I.
“I am sure we can find a hotel,” my father says. “I am ready for an early night after that long flight.”
I yawn.
My father chuckles. He puts his hands around mine. “I was so worried about you on the flight coming over.”
“I am sorry, Papa.” I scrunch my forehead. “Are you missing your lectures?”
“That is not important. My TAs are handling everything. The important thing is you. It does this old man’s heart good to see you happy.”
“You are not old, Papa.”
“Perhaps not.” He glances at Mateo. “I look forward to seeing much more of you in the future.”
“They’ve only known each other for six weeks, Papa,” Annika says. “Florian does not even remember him!”
I stiffen. Mateo stiffens.
Mateo is not supposed to feel tense in my arms. I glower.
“I cannot help that,” I say finally. “I have a head injury.”
I look at Mateo. “You know I would remember you if I could?”
Mateo nods, but his cheeks are pinker than before. Annika’s comment has unsettled him.
“You can find a hotel,” I tell my family. “Mateo will take care of me.”
“Or I could go!” Mateo suggests. “And your family could watch you.”
“I can stay,” Annika offers.
“No, no,” Mama says. “Florian needs his boyfriend. They are in love, Annika. That is serious.”
Annika hesitates, then nods. “Okay. But you can call us if you change your mind, Florian.”
I blink, but she’s still looking at me, so I nod back. “Very well.”
She turns to Mateo. “Watch him carefully.”
“O-okay,” Mateo promises.
My nostrils flare. Was that a stammer? Is Annika making my boyfriend stammer?
Mama lifts her head up from her phone. “I booked us two suites at a nearby hotel. Mateo, what’s your phone number?” She glances at me. “That one looks like he’s about to fall asleep. I want to get in touch with you.”
Mateo dutifully gives everyone his phone number. My parents, my sister, all enter it into their phones, then they call him.
I knew, theoretically, that they would be okay if I was with a man.
I was always protecting myself for my work, not them.
Maybe, if I’d met someone, if someone had truly been important to me, like Mateo is important to me, things would have been different.
But I never did.
My family waves goodbye, then they hurry out.
The door clicks shut.
Mateo and I are alone.
I smile.
Mateo draws back. He is much shorter than me. Most people are, but not the ones I hang out with.
“It must be good to be out of the hospital,” Mateo says.
For some reason, his voice is oddly formal.
“Yes.” I wrap an arm around his waist. “You are the best surprise I could have imagined. One moment, I was in Mannheim, being unhappy, being solemn, and the next moment I wake up and I am in Boston with you.”
He frowns a little, but maybe it’s at the reminder that I don’t remember him.
“I promise I will remember you,” I say. “I promise I will remember everything.”
“I am sure you will,” he says finally. “You are very capable, Florian. You played excellently for the Blizzards.”
“I am glad.”
“You look happy.”
“Of course I’m happy,” I say. “I have you.”
He looks away, and I smile at the long length of his thick dark lashes as they flutter.
Some days I wondered whether I would ever experience love, whether I would venture into the dating market in my late thirties only to discover that everyone around me has paired off and I am alone, forever.
“Why don’t you take a nap?” Mateo suggests.
“Good idea.” Mateo knows me so well.
Mateo scans the apartment. “You really just have one bedroom.”
“I am one person.”
“Right.” He nods too many times. “I have a roommate. My sister. But, uh, you know that. Used to know that.” He looks vaguely alarmed, which I understand.
“I’m sorry this happened,” I say. “I would have hated to find out that you had amnesia. I think you’re handling it very well, considering.”
He opens the door to the washing machine, then he gasps. “This is your washing machine.”
“Ah.” I eye the machine.
He quickly closes it, then opens another door. “And this, uh, is your bathroom.”
I snort. “Are you giving me a tour of my apartment?”
He shrugs. “You don’t remember it—”
“I don’t need to know where the washing machine is.”
“Right.” He opens another door. It’s my bedroom. He gives a relieved sigh, which is strange, but I’m still relearning his sense of humor.
I lie down on the bed obediently while he fusses around me, adjusting pillows I don’t recognize, and pulling a blanket I don’t remember choosing up to my chin.
He looks terrified.
I must be in terrible shape.