Page 32 of Remember Me

“I’m also grieving every day for you. I’m grieving for the friendship we used to have, for the Lottie I know is still in there somewhere. I grieve every day that you can’t fucking remember me. So don’t you dare tell me I don’t know grief!”

I’m out of breath, my chest heaving. The next thing I know, her arms are around my waist and we’re sliding to the floor, a trembling Lottie on my lap, her head in my neck and my head resting against hers as we cry together.

Silence stretches, neither one of us daring to say anything to break the tension between us. It’s so palpable right now you could cut it with a knife.

Surprisingly, Lottie is the first to speak.

“I’m so sorry, Jake. I didn’t mean that. I’m just so lost,” she whimpers into me, and I hold her a little tighter, rocking back and forth.

“Your parents wouldn’t want this for you, Lottie, they would want you to make the most of your life. Do you think we could try?”

She gives me a small jerk of her head. “I’d like to try. Can we start over? You never know, some of my memories may come back?”

Wiping the tears from each other’s faces, I cup her cheeks in my palm and say, “I’d love nothing more, Lotts.”

Now the air has been cleared, it’s like a weight has been lifted off both mine and Lottie’s shoulders, and we can start getting to know each other all over again. Well, she can; I already know everything there is to know, but I can pretend for her sake. And who knows, it may unlock something.

Lifting us off the floor and setting Lottie on a chair with a bottle of water, I ask, “Are you hungry? I’m going to make some scrambled eggs if you’d like some.”

She takes a swig of her water.

“That would be great, thank you.”

I’m awarded with a genuine smile that lights up the entire room, one I haven’t seen in a really long time.

We eat our eggs and, even though we’re silent while we do, the atmosphere has changed. Lottie’s shoulders are more relaxed, and that frown line of hers is a little less prominent. It’s gone from unbearable to comfortable. Just knowing Lottie wants to be in the same room as me without running off is a win.

Looking out the window again, I notice the rain has gotten worse and it’s like a biblical storm out there. As the waves crash violently against the shore, the thought of going out makes me want to hide under the covers, but I need to get a workout in. It may be the off season, but I have to keep myself in shape. Normally, I’d work out while Lottie was at PT, but today is her rest day, so it's just me that has to go out in this god-awful weather.

As I grab my gym bag, I remember the gift I purchased for Lottie. I hesitate for a moment, but surely I’m fine to give her a present now we’re ok?

“I almost forgot, I got you something,” I say while rubbing the back of my neck as I hold out the gift in my other hand.

A hint of pink stains her cheeks as she reaches forward and opens the packaging. Inside is a brand-new, leather-bound journal to replace the one destroyed in the accident.

“Oh my god, Jake, it’s beautiful.”

Her hands run over the cover and she holds it to her chest like a prized possession.

“Thank you so much.”

Now it’s time for my cheeks to heat. This girl turns me into a blushing teenager.

“You’re welcome. I hope you like it.”

“Like it? I love it. It’s so thoughtful.”

Lottie flings her arms around me, and I pull her in closer. It’s been so long since I’ve been able to hold her like this, and I miss it. I bring my nose to her hair, memorizing the smell of peaches and vanilla. Slowly, it starts to feel like the fragments of my heart that were shattered will start to mend again.

Chapter 23

Charlotte

Sitting on the sofa with an iced coffee in one hand and my brand-new journal in the other, I get to work on writing my thoughts and feelings about what’s happened. I write about my parents, my guilt and grief—although, I’m going to do better on the guilt front, I promise—and I write about the lack of memories my brain has conjured up so far.

I’m trying not to be so hard on myself, but I genuinely thought I would have had something by now, even if it was just a wisp.

I go back to this morning when I shouted at Jake and he shouted back: I’m grieving for the friendship we used to have, for the Lottie I know is still in there somewhere. I grieve every day that you can’t fucking remember me.