CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
ALEXANDRA JONES
ITAKE A DEEP brEATH AS I PUSH OPEN THE DOOR TO the coffee shop. My heart pounds loudly in my chest, and my hands tremble with nervousness. I can’t believe I’m doing this, but I know I need to see him, to talk to him, to confront the truth that lies between us.
As I step inside, the familiar aroma of freshly brewed coffee envelopes me, and I glance around the cosy little shop. My eyes instantly lock onto him - Ares, sitting at a corner table, waiting for me. He looks as stunning as ever, with his dark hair falling slightly over his forehead and his intense green eyes watching the streets.
I hesitate for a moment, unsure if I can handle the emotions that will flood over me when I face him. But I remind myself of the love we once shared, the memories we created together, and the deep connection that still exists between us.
Taking a deep breath, I make my way toward him. Every step feels like an eternity, but I keep moving forward, my heart pounding in my ears. He hasn’t noticed me yet, and I wonder if he’s lost in his own thoughts, just as I am.
As I draw closer, I notice the slight tension in his shoulders, and I realise that he’s just as nervous as I am. The sight brings a small smile to my lips, and I feel a glimmer of hope that we can find a way to mend what was broken between us.
Finally, I stand in front of him, and our eyes meet. There’s a mixture of emotions in his gaze - love, regret, and longing. I can see the pain we both carry, the weight of the past that we must confront.
“Hi,” I whisper, my voice barely audible.
“Hey,” he replies, his voice equally soft.
“Can I sit?”
“Of course.” He stood up, about to pull my seat for me but I stop him in time. I settle down. There’s a moment of silence, filled with unspoken words and emotions swirling between us. I want to reach out and touch him, to feel the warmth of his skin against mine, but I hold back, unsure of how he’ll react.
“I read the letter,” I finally say, my voice trembling slightly.
His eyes never leave mine, and I can see the vulnerability in his gaze. “I’m sorry, Alexandra. I never meant to hurt you, to make you feel betrayed.”
“I know,” I whisper, my heart aching with both pain and love. My heart races, knowing that this conversation will unearth painful truths. “But why didn’t you tell me the truth?” I ask, my voice quivering slightly.
He takes a deep breath before answering, his eyes never leaving mine.
“After the crash, when you woke up from the induced coma…you looked at me and called me…you thought I was your doctor.” His voice wavers with the weight of the memories. “I thought you were joking at first, but you weren’t budging. And then the doctor told me that you had memory loss, fuck, you should’ve seen me. Shouting at him, wanting to strangle him…”
I swallow hard, trying to hold back the tears threatening to spill from my eyes.
He glances down, his hands fidgeting with the edge of the table. “Do you know how hard it is? When the love of your life asks you…who you are?”
It was this question, that punched me right in the gut.
Because I haven’t thought about his side, only mine. I never thought about how much it must have affected him, I could never imagine falling in love with someone only for them to forget you-all that hard work you both put in…for no reason.
“How long were we together?” I ask him, my voice barely above a whisper.
“Two years,” he replies softly, his eyes locked onto mine.
I nod my head gently, absorbing this piece of information.
Two years of memories, love, and shared experiences erased from my mind.
“How old are you?” I ask, trying to grasp at any detail of our life together that I could still recall.
“Twenty-two.” Two years older than me, I think to myself. But none of it feels familiar.
“Who knows?” I continue, seeking answers to the fragments of my forgotten life.
“Everyone…everyone knows…Joey, Catherine, your parents—they know,” he says with a hint of bitterness. “They saw me. They threatened me, and they were happy...that you lost your memory. They said it was a gift from God, to remove all your memories of sinning with me.”
I feel a pang of anger and sadness.
How could they be so cruel?
“But why did I forget you? And not them?” I question, my mind still struggling to piece everything together.
He sighs, his expression heavy with the weight of the past. “The doctor said it was because I was recent in your life. The more recent the memories, the easier they were to erase.”
The waitress suddenly appears, “anything to order?” She asks.
The waitress’s question hangs in the air, and I find myself torn between two conflicting desires. If I place an order, it means I want to stay and go deeper into the past, to uncover the truth behind our relationship and the memories I’ve lost. But if I don’t order, it means I want to forget it all, to distance myself from the pain and confusion that have consumed me since I learned the truth.
And to say I was surprised myself, that I want to know more-because at the end of the day that only person I have the slightest bit of trust to get answers from is him-whether I liked it or not.
It surprises me even when I finally nod at the waitress and say, “I’ll have a coffee, please.”
As the waitress walks away, leaving us alone with my coffee order and a lingering sense of vulnerability, Ares’s expression softens, revealing the relief that washes over him. I take a moment to collect my thoughts before speaking again.
“What do I even ask you?” I whisper, my fingers playing with my sleeve.
“Anything,” he responds gently, his eyes locked onto mine, offering a safe space to explore the truth. I could ask him anything.
He has given me the opportunity to ask him questions, so why am I suddenly so silent? I watch as he slowly sits back onto the chair, he looks up at me-waiting for me to ask.
“I don’t know what to ask you.” I admit, he smiles, and there I notice he has a soft dimple on one side of his face and not the other.
And suddenly I’m wondering, am I a virgin?
Was he the one who had taken my virginity?
Was this how he knew what to do to pleasure me?
“Come on Angel, just ask the question.”
“But what kind of questions do I ask you? I don’t know if I should go personal or what’s your favourite colour type?” I mumble out, my coffee slowly becoming cold.
“Anything.” He’s not helping, he might think he is, but he isn’t. Couldn’t he just tell me what he thinks I might ask?
I take a deep breath. “Did we…am I a virgin?” I ask, my cheeks flushing with embarrassment. “Or…”
Ares leans closer, his arms now pressing onto the oak table, his voice hushed, “no, I took your virginity two years ago Angel.”
It caught me off guard, but it made sense. This is why he smirked at me when I told him I was a virgin.
Because he knows me, and he remembers.
“Why didn’t you tell me all of this earlier? What were you trying to get from hiding this?”
He sighs, looking pained, as if recounting the memories is a challenge. “Two years ago, I had a plan. I wanted to recreate every moment we shared, every joke, every laugh, and I had a list of experiences we cherished together,” he explains. “But then… it was ruined.”
“What do you mean?” I ask, genuinely curious.
“We were supposed to meet in the library,” Ares replies, a hint of amusement in his voice. “But fate had other plans, and you ended up coming to my tattoo shop instead.”
A smile tugs at my lips as I think about the cheeky old man’s antics. “Wait… why were you annoyed that I kissed you?” I question, trying to unravel the intricacies of our past.
His eyes hold a mix of amusement and fondness. “Because you weren’t supposed to kiss me, Alexandra.” He confesses, a teasing glint in his gaze. “It wasn’t part of the plan, and I was caught off guard.”
“By my kiss? I thought you’d be happy that happened.”
“Oh, trust me Angel, I was.” I couldn’t stop smiling, and the butterflies wouldn’t stop fluttering and my heart finally began to beat. I knew this was right for me, I knew he was right for me. I knew he was mine.
“Did you move on? I mean, have you been with other girls after I forgot you?” His eyes darken just at the thought of it, he slowly took his phone out from his pocket and settles it down onto the table- he’s getting comfortable. Meaning I will definitely be here a while.
“You really think other women were on my mind?” He whispers, “it was you. You. Stuck in my head, every day, every time I sleep, wake up, do anything- it’s you.”
You.
Me.
I was on his mind.
But he wasn’t on mine.
The silence between us echoed.
And we stared at everything else except for one another, my eyes pointing at my coffee and his to his hands that rested in front of me. He fiddles around with a ring on his index finger.
“You guys need anything else?” The waiter breaks the silence, I shake my head with a smile. She takes the stick that had the number of the table and walks away.
“So, what other memories have we recreated that I didn’t ruin?”
My finger grazes around the tip of the coffee mug. “The rest are all new memories.”
“All new memories...” I repeat, the weight of those words settling on my heart. Saying those words felt weird, and they felt wrong. I don’t know how to feel, and I don’t know what to do. For some reason, for the first time-I’m clueless.
I just sat there, staring at him, trying to figure him out. What if he was lying to me? What if I didn’t have memory loss? What if this was all a joke? But it couldn’t be, it wouldn’t be. Ares wouldn’t hurt me like this, Ares would not lie to me.
All new memories
It’s both comforting and unsettling at the same time. Comforting because it means we have the chance to build something new, but unsettling because it also means that much of our past is lost forever.
“Anything about me the same?” He smirks, his eyes locking with mine. Finally, I made him smile.
“Everything about you is exactly the same,” he replies, unable to contain the smile that spreads across my face.
Despite the gaps in my memory, it’s a relief to know that some things remain unchanged, that the essence of who we are together is still intact.
“The way you rub your nose when you lie, and fidget around when something is awkward. When you paint, you love to do it wearing nothing, you find it easier washing the paint off your skin than off your clothes. The way you care about the littlest things, and how you never tie your hair up-you love feeling the wind brush it back because you feel like you’re in the movies. How you love eating pomegranates but not the ones from the store, you like the ones that are home grown because they have a type of sweetness to it that makes you squint. Everything about you is exactly the same.”
No words.
Not a single word.
What do you say to that?
What would I say?
I don’t remember anything about him.
But I want too.
I reach out and take his hands in mine, my fingers gently brushing against his skin. “I may not remember it all, Ares, but let’s try,” I say earnestly. “Let’s try to recreate all the memories.”
His eyes light up with hope, and I can see the love and longing in them. “Don’t joke with me, Alexandra Jones,” he murmurs, his voice filled with vulnerability.
“I’m not joking,” I assure him, my heart swelling with emotion. “I want to try…to remember it all.” I look down at his lips, “to recreate all the memories… will you help me?” I ask.
He leans forward.
And smiles.
“Without a fucking doubt.”