I almost smiled. That sounded like something Naomi would say. It was definitely something she did on a daily basis. One of my favorite things about her. She was good at it. I was learning it wasn’t as easy as she made it look.
“I’m afraid of forgetting again.” As I spoke, I watched the ground. “Forgetting someone important to me. I’ve already done it once.”
“Why do you think you’ll forget again?”
I shrugged. “It was so easy the first time. One wrong head bash and I became no one.”
Aden gave me a warm smile. “You’re not ‘no one.’ And I don’t think it’s productive to be afraid of something that is statistically unlikely to happen. We’re working toward making you stronger. And you’re doing your part to stay out of trouble…?”
I nodded.
“Great, then I don’t see you having another brain injury soon. If you do—by some odd, cosmic happening—forget again, you’ll always have people to remind you,” Aden said. “Like Lincoln, with the ice cream.”
He chuckled, and I tried to smile. The expression felt strange though, so I gave up.
“You have a great group of friends,” Aden continued. “They’ve supported you through this every step, right?”
“They have,” I agreed, taking a deep breath. And here I was, being so goddamn ungrateful.
“They’ll do it again. And I’m sure whoever you’re scared to forget will also support you.”
I wanted to believe those words. Truly. But something about them didn’t stick. If Naomi knew me,thisme, would I really be enough?
“You’re right, we are our memories. But I choose to believe we’re something more. Some core part of us remains after we’ve experienced trauma. You might not recognize who you are, but the people who care about you do. They always will. Keep letting them remind you until you recognize yourself and who you want to be.”
Chapter Eleven
Naomi
AsIwalkedtomy last class of the day, I was bombarded by students promoting their campus organizations. The first day back to school was prime time for welcome back totes and plastic-wrapped cookies from groups recruiting. It took a huge amount of willpower not to stop at every table to grab a pamphlet and chit-chat. Instead, I snapped photos and sent the interesting ones to Celeste. She was enrolled here too, but preferred the low-stakes environment of hybrid night classes.
Me: Wanna join something with me? We could rush! Or learn how to build train replicas!
I could picture the wrinkle of her nose when she responded.
Celeste: Do you really think we could keep up with rushes? And we’re more of airplane model girls…IMO.
Me: You right, you right. Though you would be great in a sorority.
Celeste: I love you for making up and believing lies that make me sound cool. You’re a real one.
I laughed and shoved my phone back into my pocket. My wide smile remained in place as I walked into my economics course. A professor I’ve only interacted with through a computer screen sat on the edge of her desk to welcome students. As soon as I introduced myself, her eyes lit up with recognition.
“Naomi Lewis?” Professor Blake’s eyes brightened. “From my online course last semester?”
I beamed. “You remembered?”
“Of course. Your contributions to the discussions were some of the most engaging I’ve received. I don’t get students like you very often. It was exciting coming to class knowing someone would have a question to ask.”
Perfect. Exactly what I’d been going for. I was good at school but better at making teachers remember me. And if I wanted to get into an impressive graduate program, I needed to stand out.
“Plus, you were the only student who showed up during my office hours.” She laughed, but the sag of her shoulders hinted at disappointment. “It’s lovely to meet you in the flesh.”
“Likewise. I’m excited to be on campus this year.”
“Oh! Seeing you reminded me of a comment you made last semester.” She turned to grab a flyer off her desk. “My fiancée runs the student lab in the library. They’re looking for more peer tutors. There’s an open position for someone who has experience with statistics. I remember you said something about teaching. This could be a great way to gain experience.”
My eyes widened when I saw the hourly rate. They were offering almost double what the stadium paid me. Because the Ables sliced my rent in half, I planned to coast doing odd jobs this year. But with a tutoring gig, I could finally start stocking up on nice groceries. No more canned goods for each meal. Hell, I could splurge on takeout now and then!
