twenty-eight
T he sharp shrill of the alarm clock jolted Nate out of one the most vivid dreams he’d ever had.
Even though he could already feel it slipping away, his mind desperately tried to cling to those last vestiges of sleep in an attempt to remember as many details as possible.
But all he was left with was the memory of a breeze that filled him with the scent of flowers, a glimpse of dark, soft hair, and a laughter that made him ache.
He opened his eyes to the sight of his semi-lit ceiling, the first rays of sunlight breaking through his curtains.
He didn’t move for several minutes, trying to get his heartbeat to slow down.
He could feel his T-shirt sticking to him having almost sweat through it, and goosebumps pebbled the skin on his arms.
Nate knew he was awake but it was like his mind and his body were out of sync, his body registering something before his mind could catch up.
He rubbed his face in an attempt to shake off the sleep and the residues of the dream.
Throwing off the covers, he got out of bed and headed to the bathroom to wash the night off himself. Glancing at himself in the mirror above the sink as he waited for the water in the shower to warm up, he confirmed that he looked as tired as he felt.
Dark circles marred the skin under his eyes, the exhaustion clear as day.
It seemed that being able to sleep peacefully and uninterruptedly was kind of a big deal.
Of course Nate wouldn’t know, since he hadn’t been able to sleep through the night since the accident he’d almost had about a couple of weeks before.
Every day his routine was the same as always. He went to work, he came home, he ate, he showered. He’d even started working out again. He did all the things he did before that day. But every time his body laid down to rest, his mind was plagued by an invisible torment he didn’t understand.
The doctors that had checked him out had found nothing wrong with him physically. He’d been told that it could be an after-effect of the accident. That would explain the agitation he felt every time he tried to relax.
What it wouldn’t explain though was that deep sense of loss that seemed to eat him from within, gnawing at his insides, like an injury that pulsed, never letting him forget that it was there. He carried that feeling with him everywhere he went. It was a void he didn’t know how to explain.
Steam started to fog the mirror as the water turned scalding hot and Nate climbed in the shower hoping to burn that feeling away. He sighed as the water pelted his skin, making him feel almost human again. He knew though that it never lasted long.
His mind kept replaying that scene over and over, whether he was awake or asleep.
One moment he’d been walking down the busy street and the next he was clashing with someone so hard he’d felt the other party fling themselves onto open traffic.
It was instinct to try and reach for the dark-haired woman, instinct to try and shield her from harm, instinct to put his body between her and the car hurtling towards them.
She’d known his name, whispering it to him even moments before the impact. The impact that thankfully never fully happened, but merely knocked them down violently.
Nate had been too dizzy afterwards, his back hurting like a bitch. He wasn’t even sure if he’d been able to talk to her, to make sure she was okay.
But what he did remember with stark clarity was the look on her face as she’d picked up her things and turned to look at him.
It was a look that had been enough to punch through his chest and pierce the thick fog of his temporary dizziness.
It was a look of pure devastation, of such profound sadness that had robbed him of whatever words he could have told her.
He remained staring after her, long after she’d disappeared from his view.
That look still haunted him as much as his elusive dreams did.
He wondered—again—what words he would have spoken if he’d had the chance.
With a sigh, he let the hot water wash his turmoil down the drain.
By the time he stepped out of the shower, at least his body felt less stiff.
The soreness, though, wasn’t just from lack of decent sleep.
The light workout sessions with Liam had left their mark, and being Monday meant another one after work. No chance of relief anytime soon.
Not that he minded.
The ache gave him something to focus on—something solid, something tangible. A tether, when everything else felt like it was slipping through his fingers.
The day at work went by like all days did, smoothly and with no hiccups thankfully, and at a few minutes after six he was entering the local gym that was at just a walking distance from his place.
A quick glance around helped him spot Liam already on the treadmill in a light jog.
Nate made his way to the changing rooms, where he could change into his workout sweats and T-shirt.
Liam was still on the treadmill when Nate joined him on the one next to him.
“Hey, man,” Nate said in a way that wouldn’t startle Liam since he had his earbuds in. He put in his preferred pace and speed and started his warm-up.
“How’s it going, bud?” Liam asked, his voice barely showing any strain from his run. “Okay, never mind, I see you’re still looking pretty awful.”
“Thanks for hitting a man while he’s down.” Though he wasn’t far off the mark.
“You know I’m just pointing out what’s right in front of my eyes. Coop would be much more brutal. Speaking of whom,” he trailed off as the familiar figure of his other best friend popped up right in front of his treadmill.
“Wow, you look like shit.”
“Told you,” Liam quipped.
“You two really know how to make someone feel good about themselves, don’t you.”
Cooper frowned hard. “Do you know when I’ll stop telling you you look like shit? When you actually stop looking like shit.” His tone was light but his expression was serious.
Nate really wished he could simply flip a switch and go back to normal, or at least whatever normal was for him but it wasn’t that easy.
“Don’t you think that if I could have, I would have done that already?” he scoffed, shaking his head. “It’s just… I still can’t sleep well and it’s starting to hit me hard.”
“Okay, this is not a conversation we can have while you two are huffing and puffing, so slow this shit down for a bit,” Coop said in a semi-stern voice that made Nate chuckle.
The truth was that without the support of his friends, he didn’t know how these past couple of weeks would have gone. He’d always been a private person when it came to things that mattered. He didn’t let a lot of people in but these guys were his brothers.
They’d taken turns to helping him out those first few days after the incident when he still felt battered and disoriented.
They’d done everything in their power to cheer him up and lighten up his mood, while reassuring his mom who didn’t live close enough to visit regularly that he was taken care of.
Nate slowed his pace to a relaxed walk while Liam did the same.
“Much better,” Coop said, adjusting his stance and making himself comfortable while bracing his arms on the side bar of Nate’s treadmill. “So how are you really doing? Looking like shit aside. Any luck figuring out who that woman was?”
When Nate wasn’t working, or at home, or trying to unsuccessfully go back to sleep, his mind kept conjuring up the image of that dark-haired girl who had been with him.
As the days had gone by and he had regained a certain clarity, details started to slowly come back to him.
Details of wind-swept, shoulder-length dark hair, of eyes bright with concern and familiarity one moment, and sadness the next, of a kind voice that kept calling him by his name.
She’d called him by his name multiple times as if she knew him well. But he didn’t know her. Right?
Except yesterday, for a brief moment he recalled a heart-shaped face just like hers from when he was at school. And the more he thought about it, the more he became convinced that it could have been someone he’d gone to school with.
“Actually, I have this feeling that it might have been someone from high school. I think there was this girl back then that could have been her. But we weren’t even in the same class, how is it possible that she seemed to know me that well?
” His heart was picking up speed the more he went down that path, a strange sort of agitation that hung in the balance between unrest and excitement.
“Wait a minute.” He pressed the button to completely immobilize his machine. There was no way he had the mental capacity to even maintain a basic walking rhythm. He was more likely to trip over his own feet and fall face first on the running belt.
Yes, there had been a girl roaming the halls of his school.
A girl who used to walk around with a book in her hands all the time, who barely paid attention to her surroundings, who…
Nate groaned out loud, his frustration reaching a breaking point.
Every time he felt closer to shedding the light he so desperately yearned to on the gaping hole of his memories, he was yanked back by an invisible hand that kept it just out of reach.
If only he could remember her name. He knew he would be able to make a reasonable connection. He needed to make that connection or he feared he might very well lose his mind.
And as if summoned, a minuscule ray of warm light pierced through the fog momentarily.
“Madison.”
Nate looked up to meet the concerned gazes of Liam and Cooper, only then recalling his surroundings and the fact that he wasn’t alone.
“I think her name was Madison,” he said in a surer voice, something settling deep inside him, the conviction that he was right.
Even caught in the throes of his small breakthrough, the look Cooper and Liam exchanged didn’t escape his notice.
“Madison?” Cooper repeated in an uncertain voice. “Are you sure that was her name?”
“Yes, why?” Nate couldn’t help the knot of uneasiness in his stomach. “Do you know her?”
“Um,” Liam started, looking as hesitant as Cooper, “we do actually. You’re the one who introduced us.”
Nate froze, his body locking down in a reaction he didn’t know how to explain. He felt his face drain of any warmth he’d accumulated during his short run. “What?”
Liam was already nodding. “You introduced her to us, said she was your friend. If I remember correctly, you used to hang out for a while back then.” Liam’s face turned into a confused frown. “It’s weird, but now that I think about it, you never told us how that ended.”
“Yeah, it’s like she was there until she wasn’t,” Coop added.
Nate run his hands through his hair so aggressively, it was a miracle he didn’t tug out whole chunks of it. Had he stepped into the Twilight Zone when he hadn’t been looking?
“But that’s impossible.” How could he have introduced someone he seemed to have almost no memory of?
“And yet,” Liam shrugged. “Maybe it’s the accident’s fault. Some kind of shock that brought on this temporary memory loss.”
Nate wished he could blame that. He shook his head. “No, I don’t think I recognized her even beforehand.”
He suddenly felt in dire need of air, his chest expanding but with no relief in sight.
The sounds around him became distorted by the beat of his heart that drummed too loudly in his ears.
He still had the presence of mind to know how he must look to his best friends though, and he didn’t want to worry them any more than he already had.
“Listen, guys, I think I’m gonna go home,” he croaked out as he carefully stepped off the treadmill for fear he’d stumble.
“Wait, Nate!” Coop’s voice cut through the whooshing sound in his ears.
“It’s okay, I’m fine. I’m okay, I just need a little time. To rest and think things through.”
He made himself meet their eyes head-on so they would know how serious he was.
Coop looked as if he wanted to say more but Liam placed a hand on his shoulder shaking his head. He then turned towards Nate. “We’re here when you need us.”
Nate could only nod in gratefulness before he went to pick up his things from the changing room and rush out the door.
The commotion outside—the steady hum of people returning from work, the clash of voices and music drifting from all directions, the cold breeze biting at his flushed face—grounded him. It was chaotic, but familiar.
He clung to it, inhaling deeply, letting the brisk air steady him. Then, with renewed determination, he set his mind on one thing.
He would get to the bottom of this.
He would.
The only problem was that he didn’t even know what was normal anymore.