They both stare at me as if I’ll break like glass at any moment.
“I, uh, I just need to be alone. I promise I’ll call if I need anything.”
“Are you sure? One of us can stay. Or both of us,” my dad says.
“I’m sure. Please go home and try to get some rest. I’ll be fine,” I tell them.
My mom stares over my head at the portrait of me and Lennon hanging on the wall before coming closer and kissing my head. My dad follows suit with promises to check in first thing in the morning.
Once they’ve gone, I roll my chair to the couch and use my good arm to slide onto it. I sit in silence for a few minutes as I browse the room with my gaze, trying to connect with anything that helps me remember something about my life here in this space. I inhale deeply but nothing triggers. I feel around the couch with my hand and accidentally knock a pillow off.
I see a red stain the pillow was hiding. I almost hear the echo of laughter and my heart races. A flash of a memory I can’t quite grasp tries to surface.
“Ah! I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to spill my wine!”
“It’s okay. Maybe all my neutrals need a pop of color.”
“I’ll have it cleaned for you.”
“I have the cutest pillow that can go there! I got it for my bedroom, but it doesn’t match the style in there.”
“Look…”
My chest rises and falls rapidly with this glimpse of the past. I glance at the pillow and study the burgundy color. Definitely a pop of color for the neutral tones in this room.
I don’t know if I should be glad I remembered something or angry that I can’t remember more about it. I’m not sure how to feel, but my head is throbbing as if the memory will hurt more than my head if I see the whole thing. All I know for sure is it was a memory with my sister.
That must be a good thing, right? I remembered something here in what is supposed to be London’s apartment…myapartment.
I swipe the pillow from the floor and try to get as comfortable as possible on the couch. After a few minutes, I decide to call Hendrix. I want to share this with someone, and I feel the logicalchoice would be who is supposed to be my boyfriend. Maybe he can help me remember more.
He answers on the first ring. “Hello?”
“Hey. I remembered something…I think.”
“What was it?” he asks, his tone piqued in interest.
“A wine stain on the couch at my apartment,” I tell him.
“Yeah. I wasn’t there when it happened, but Lennon spilled her wine on your couch. You wouldn’t let her buy a new couch for you or even try to get the stain out. You said it was the perfect excuse for that burgundy pillow you love so much to shine. You said no one would see past the pillow to what was underneath it. You told me it was one of your favorite nights with Lennon. She shared a secret with you but had to drink a glass of wine to gain the courage.”
“What secret did she tell me?” I ask.
“I’m not sure. You said the secrets between you two were sacred. Part of your twin bond. No one else was allowed. But I have my theories,” he says.
“And what’s your theory?”
“I think she might’ve told you about her secret relationship with Dash,” he answers.
“What do you mean secret?”
I hear him sigh. “Dash is a racer too. I don’t think anyone wanted them together from what I’ve gathered, so they were together in secret.”
“How do you and my parents know about it, then?”
“Because she finally admitted it to them. She tried to bring him to dinner not long after the night you’re remembering. Your dad was so angry, and he forbid them from seeing each other.”
“Why would he do that? Why would he be so mad?” I ask, not understanding.
