Page 82 of Recollection
They’ve been collected again like the pieces of a puzzle, snapped neatly back into place.
Telling my whole story.
I remember all of it.
I start to cry.
“Oh no, baby.” He reaches out with one of his hands like he wants to hold me but withdraws before he does. Instead, he cradles my hand and lifts it up to his mouth, kissing the knuckles softly. “I’m so sorry. You remember what I did now? You know you were about to leave me?”
My body is shaking, and I’m contorting my face in an attempt to control the sobbing. When I can breathe, I choke out, “I remember everything.”
“I’m so, so—” He breaks off, stiffening his back. “Wait, what? How much do you remember?”
“Everything.” I fall into helpless tears again. “I remember everything.”
“Those six months?”
“Yes. All of it. It’s all come back to me now.”
“Jesus Christ,” he breathes. “Does your head hurt bad? I’ll get the doctor in, and he can make sure there’s not any damage from—”
“I feel fine. A little headache. I don’t think there’s any brain damage. It’s all just... so much.”
He’s relaxed again, hugging my forearm toward his chest. “I can’t even imagine.”
“I...” I lick my dry lips. “I fell in love with you twice.”
His face tightens. “Baby.”
“I can feel every moment of both times.”
“Is it terrible?”
“No. I just feel like I might... overflow.” I make myself let out a long, slow breath, trying to get a handle on everything I’m feeling.
I love him so much. More than a human heart should be capable of. And now that I can remember the first time, I understand in razor-sharp detail what Arthur must have gone through. I can read every moment after I lost my memory through the lens of what he must have felt.
I start to cry again.
“Fuck it all,” he mutters. “Please let me hold you.” He reaches out for me again, this time pausing right before he touches me. I sit up and close the gap between us so he can wrap his arms around me in an awkward, edge-of-the-bed hug.
I don’t care. I need him. I cry into his chest for a long time.
When I’ve finally gotten control of myself, he lets me go, and I recline back against the pillow. “How did you... how did you even get through it? You must have been hurt so badly when I couldn’t remember how we fell in love.”
He blinks in surprise but answers easily enough. “It was hard. But it wasn’t your fault. It happened to you more than it happened to me.”
“Sure, but still. All those times you needed me, and I wasn’t there because I didn’t know. I can’t imagine how you even got through it.”
“I was okay. I didn’t fall apart, which frankly surprised even me. It helped that I could still be around you. And once you weren’t treating me like a stranger, things got better for me. I was so sure...” He lets out a faint huff. “I was so sure you’d never fall in love with me a second time. I was convinced it was a weird fluke of circumstance and timing, and it could never be repeated. You can’t even imagine how shocked I was when slowly you seemed to like me again, you wanted to spend time with me, you wanted to be close. And then you wanted to...” He shakes his head. “It felt like a miracle. That even after losing you the first time, I might actually get to be with you again.”
“When did you... When did you start to think it could happen again?”
He smiles and picks up my hand once more. “That evening on the couch when you fell asleep on top of me. I held you for almost an hour as you slept, and I suddenly had hope. Your losing those first six months was a huge hole in my heart, and it always would be. But I could suddenly see a path forward even if you never remembered. Maybe we could still be together.”
I can see it all. His experience of every moment. And he still lied—he still hurt me—but it doesn’t feel as much like a betrayal.
I have no idea what I would have done if I were in his place.