I shake my head.
“I’ve never seen another case like Ava’s. She’s one in a million.”
“She is.”
DeShawn pats my back. “You stay the course, my friend.” He takes my phone. “The one that’s queued up?”
“Yeah. Thanks.”
DeShawn crosses over to the speaker while Ava and I wander the room. After a moment, the music begins, and a slow, easy melody breaks the silence.
“Is this ‘Highway to Hell’?” Ava asks.
I have to laugh at that. “No, that one’s heavy metal. A head-banging song.”
“Oh. That doesn’t seem like a very solid beginning.”
“It gave me a pick-up line,” I say. “A terrible one, but one just the same.”
She laughs. “You know, you could have left it out of the story, and I never would have known.”
“I wouldn’t change a word of our love story.” It’s true. From that first time I saw her, each step of this journey has felt right to me.
And every time I have to convince her that we belong together, I get to watch the magic envelop us both all over again. I no longer doubt that it will happen. I don’t need faith when I have years’ worth of proof.
We finish the slow walk around the room as DeShawn moves to the switches on the wall by the door.
“We haven’t danced yet this time around.” I pull Avaby the hand until we face each other, and put my arm around her waist.
“We danced that first time?”
“No, I mean, since you started your new memories.”
“I don’t know how to dance.”
“I never have known,” I say. “And, luckily, you’ve forgotten how terrible I am.”
She smiles. “Show me what to do.”
I pull her close. We don’t actually take steps, more rocking from side to side as we shift our weight. But it’s the best part of dancing. Bodies close. Oneness with the music.
She lays her head on my shoulder, and we get to simplybefor a while. The overhead dims and the disco ball begins its gentle turn, sprinkling color through the room like confetti. I glance over at DeShawn. He gives me a thumbs-up and slips out of the room. We’re alone.
The rest of the world ceases to exist. Bits of light cross our bodies, as if they are the memories Ava could catch and hold onto if she simply held out her hand.
Sorrow washes over me that she’s forgotten our story. We have so many bright moments that can no longer be played in her mind. One day, she might forget this one, too.
But isn’t that what time does to everyone? Robs us of our history, leaving only fleeting glimpses of emotion when we hear a certain song or encounter a particular scent?
“I love you, Ava,” I whisper close to her ear.
Her arm around my shoulder squeezes. “I believe you.”
I hold us still for a moment and pull back to look into those blue eyes I know so well. I’m aware my face isn’t asfamiliar to her, but hopefully since her last reset she’s begun to understand who we are together.
“Ava, I want to be the keeper of your memories. No matter how many times you lose them, I want to be there to remind you of who we are.”
Ava watches my face. I wait, suspended between anxiety and what is next. She’s run from me before, feared me, gotten angry, and I’ve had to fight to get her back.
