Even though I don’t really know her, I’m already excited to see her again, only this time I hope I don’t break her heart as I did earlier.
I will get better; I will get therapy. To remember her.
Erika.
The girl that I have apparently kept hidden in my heart for years and is now hidden in my brain in some secret place I can’t access.
About to close my messages, Erika reenters the conversation.
Erika:
I love you. x
Fuck, I so want to say it back. I wish I could, and I wish I knew how much I loved her. Wish I could feel it.
Open up, memories. Let me in.
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
Erika
“How was your first night back?” Sofia lays her tray of food on the table and plops herself on the chair next to me.
“Dreadful, the pits of hell, death, blood, shit.” I think that sums up my night.
My husband doesn’t remember me.
“So, just another regular day then?” Lucia appears, chuckling, joining us for our usual end-of-shift meetup in the canteen.
“I’m glad it’s over.” I check the clock and groan. “My next shift starts in twelve hours.” I might as well use one of the on-call rooms to fall asleep in. I would rather be going home to my husband, but Leon is mine in title alone, and nothing more.
What if he wants a divorce?
I set my fork on my plate and push it away, no longer hungry.
“Have you been to visit Leon?” Lucia asks at the same time as Sofia. As twins, they have an uncanny habit of doing that. I find it bizarre, but to them it’s normal. They can read each other’s minds. I wish they could read Leon’s.
I avoid meeting their concerned stares and shake my head. “I promised I would visit him on my break.”
“Your break has been and gone,” Sofia states the obvious.
“He doesn’t remember me.” I texted the girls earlier in our group chat, telling them everything.
“That’s not an excuse to stay away. He needs you now more than ever. As a wife and a friend. You’re his person, Erika,” Lucia says more firmly than I appreciate.
“He doesn’t know that I’m his person,” I say too loudly, slamming my fist on the table, the bang and clatter of dinnerware and silverware drawing everyone’s attention. “I’m sorry. Ignore me.” I quickly apologize, feeling about to have a breakdown, and run my hands through my hair.
“It’s okay,” they both coo in harmony.
“We know how shit this is. But you can’t build a wall around you and expect everything to go back to the way it was if you don’t let him get to know you again. He needs you. Now. Always,” Lucia states, making me feel like a shitty, selfish wife.
“I’m a terrible wife.” I ran away when I should have stayed. “And a dreadful friend.” Instead of researching several papers on selective amnesia, I should have been in Leon’s room, by his side, holding his hand, reassuring him that I am here for him. Instead, I was trying to find a solution for his memory loss that doesn’t exist. Every research paper said the same thing: the only things that work are time and therapy.
“For better or for worse,” Sofia recites.
“In sickness and in health,” Lucia adds, making my guilt feel ten times bigger than it was.
I’m such an idiot. “I made a promise to him, and I said vows that I will die on any hill in any country as long as it meant being with him.” Full of zest and newfound spirit, I stand, grab my bottle of apple juice and banana, and announce, “I have someplace I need to be.”
