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The corner of his mouth turned up. “You know; you ask me this question in every life we’ve had.”
I do?
“It’s not my fault I keep forgetting the answer.” Why was that? Why did I always forget? Why did he always remember? Why was any of this
happening at all? I’d only seen one lifetime, not even the full lifetime—just the tragic ending—and the pain was unbearable.
“Almost anything,” he answered, drawing me from my thoughts and based on the look in his eye, I knew he’d done it on purpose. “I’d do almost anything you asked.”
“What wouldn’t you do?”
He stared at me and I stared back waiting. He tried to move his hand from my face, but I held him still. “What wouldn’t you do, Malachi?”
“Kill you.”
Sitting up from his stomach, I no longer cared if the sheets fell off me. I’d asked something that part of me didn’t want to know. “Have I—past me—asked you to do that?”
“Yes.”
“And you didn’t?”
“I did.” He frowned. “In November 1599. I was a prince in the Mughal Empire and we’d been thrown into the pit of the forsaken to die together. I thought…I thought I could ease your suffering…they poisoned you…” He hung his head in shame and a sadness so deep my heart broke for him and his suffering. How many lifetimes had there been since then that he’d been bearing that burden?
“Why is this happening?”
“I do not know.”
“When will it stop?”
“I do not know.”
“Are we going to die?”
“Everyone dies,” he reminded me. “So yes, we are going to die. I do not know when or how.”
“But it usually happens shortly after we meet, right?” I was starting to feel panic set in.
He took my hands and kissed them. “Yes, but we met months ago, Esther. This the longest it’s ever taken you to remember, so maybe…”
“Maybe we won’t die until I remember everything,” I finished for him thinking quickly. “So, what if I don’t remember—?”
“You’ve already started to, haven’t you?” he asked and I froze as I recalled the dream. He continued. “After the first one, the rest will come back sooner and sooner until everything floods your mind again.”
“I’ll…” My voice cracked, but I need to say it. “I’ll fight it.”
“How?” He frowned. “What triggered the memory you had? The music? We’ve heard so many songs together will you avoid them all? Will you give up books? Smells? Foods? You can’t.”
“Why are discouraging me—?”
“Because I don’t want you to give up on life. I’ve tried, Esther. I’ve tried not to remember. It’s agonizing and lonely. Remember how I was in Montana the day to took care of me? That will be you and in the end, the memory will still force its way through.”
I could never forget the pain he’d been in. How he begged not to love her—me—again.
“So what do we do?” I already felt so defeated.
He pulled me into his arms and hugged me tightly. “We live for as long as we can. The best as we can. We focus on us now as Malachi and Esther.”
“Esther and Malachi,” I said grinning and so did he…I loved how our names sounded together. But it also made me think of all the other names that had sounded so good together.
