“Funny. Just give it to me straight. How long until I have to beg my parents to move back in with them? I’m sure my salary was nice and all, but with my student loans and no paycheck coming in, I’m sure this apartment will need to go.”
Noah searched my eyes, not saying anything.
“It’s okay. Don’t sugarcoat it. I can handle it. How bad is it?”
“Xander, I’m not joking. We’ve done well. Really well. You invested in some of my first projects with me. You only work because you love being a surgeon. It would take a lot for you to run out of money.”
“Stop being cruel. Just give it to me straight, Noah. How long?”
He gazed at me a minute, went over to my pile of unopened mail, sorted through it, and came back with about ten envelopes from different banks and financial firms. Throwing them on the table, he said, “Open them.”
Slowly, I opened them. One statement after another confirmed he was telling the truth about my financial situation. When I had them all laid out in front of me, I added it up in my head and sat back in shock. “So I’m rich?”
Noah laughed. “Yep. Filthy fucking rich.”
I tried to comprehend it.
I should have felt elated.
I should have been dancing on the table.
I should have been grateful I would not lose my fancy apartment and have to move in with my parents.
I felt nothing but more confusion.
What I last remember is buying ramen noodles and my mom bringing casserole dishes of lasagna to the station so the guys and I could eat something decent between our shifts and school studies.
How did it all happen? I wish I could comprehend it all, but I can’t. I don’t remember any of it.
Even my cell phone is so complicated, I hardly use it. What happened to my flip phone and paramedic beeper?
“Earth to Xander.” Noah waves at me in the car.
“Oh, sorry,” I mumble.
“Xander, you’ve got to snap out of it. You can’t go down this hole,” Noah says.
I glare at him. “Easy for you to say. You remember the last twelve years of your life. Mine, too, apparently.”
“That may be true, but you didn’t let me go down the hole when Nathan died, and I will not let you go down it.”
Nathan. I turn toward the window, blinking back tears. Noah’s brother died, and I can’t remember that, either.
Noah’s voice gets softer. “Xander, your memory will come back. Give it more time.”
I stare out the window. “Will it? I’m beginning to think not.”
“It will. I know it will.”
I say nothing, and we soon pull up to the curb. When we get inside, Chase and Jamison are at the bar.
“Xander,” they both call out.
They sound the same as they always have when they are at the bar and drinking, so I plunge into a false sense of comfort. Within minutes of our arrival, Chase orders shots, and I pound a few back. I haven’t drunk alcohol in...well, I don’t remember when. It doesn’t take long before I feel buzzed and am smiling.
The hostess comes and tells us our table is ready. We grab our beers and sit down at the table. For the first time in a long time, I’m having fun. The guys and I spend dinner laughing.
I keep ordering more shots and am feeling pretty drunk. Noah says, “Think it’s time to cut back on those.”
