Then I write down more words of images, places, and things that have been invading my dreams, my thoughts, like little shards of glass all scattered out in the far corners of my mind, annoyed that none of them fit together.
Husky.
Coin. An eagle on it? Gold. Was it gold?
Someone gave it to me. Who?
Husky… gray, blue eyes, black ears.
My new car… purple… why did I buy it in purple? There’s a reason, I know there is.
Purple.
The same purple as Erika’s stethoscope.
My pen hovers over the period, and then it hits me: I can see myself buying a stethoscope.
Holy shit. I remember buying the stethoscope, but if Erika hadn’t told me I had bought it for her, I wouldn’t have known that piece of the puzzle.
Excited by this new revelation, I text Erika, who is currently six hours into her day shift, and I’m already counting down, eager for her to come home. Home. To me.
Me:
I remember buying your stethoscope. I can see the website. The words were embossed into the metal. I remember.
Erika:
This is amazing! Do you remember that you were buying it for me?
Me:
I don’t.
Erika:
It doesn’t matter. This is progress, Leon. x
I love the way she started to add kisses to our conversations this week. Fuck, I get excited about everything she does. From the notes she leaves, like little love letters, reminding me of things we did or a memory of where we bought something together, to the new photo albums she makes for me. I love it all, and I feel myself falling for her more with each passing day.
Me:
What’s your favorite color?
Erika:
Purple.
Me:
I wrote that in my journal yesterday. My car is purple. Did I buy it in your favorite color?
Erika:
Maybe. I don’t know. You never said.
Me:
I think it’s very possible. Old Leon is a fool for you; it made me buy supercars in crazy colors.
