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It terrorizes me.
This must be what amnesia patients’ family and friends feel like when they realize they’ve been forgotten. That they’re the only ones who recall every small memory, every little detail, every laugh, every smile, every precious conversation.
“Mom? Are you okay?” I speak in a brittle voice, my heart thudding against my chest.
“What… Oh, I’m good.” She breathes heavily, her eyes flitting to my phone that I left on the bed.
“You look anything but good, Mom.”
“It’s probably exhaustion from working at the shelter. I just need a moment.” She sits on the edge of the bed and pats the spot beside her. “Careful of the glass shards.”
Relief zings through me, but the shadows of wariness linger in the room like a third presence.
An ominous sign.
The calm before the horror scare.
Still, I sit beside her and watch her carefully, so carefully that she smiles.
“I’m really all right, Anni.”
“You didn’t look all right a minute ago.”
“It’s just exhaustion. Happens all the time.”
“That’s the first time I’ve seen you like that, Mom.”
“Guess I’ve done a good job hiding it from you guys.” She smiles, ushers me to lie down, and leans my head on her lap so she can stroke my hair.
She used to do this a lot when I was a kid, but as I grew up, she did it less and less. Not that I’m complaining or anything. I’m the one who wants to be an adult sooner rather than later. But I miss her touch.
The in-and-out of her fingers in my hair is nothing short of a soothing lullaby. I close my eyes, picturing myself easily falling into peaceful sleep.
“Baby angel?”
“Yeah?”
“Tell me about the boy in the picture you were just staring at with a dreamy expression.”
I wince, opening my eyes. “Was I that obvious?”
“Uh-huh. You were practically devouring him.”
“I wasnot.”
“Was too.”
I sigh, turning onto my back so that I’m staring up at her. “His name is Creighton and we’re…sort of going out.”
“Sort of?”
“We haven’t been together for a long time, but time is irrelevant because I share a special connection with him. The type I’ve never shared with anyone else.”
Mom’s fingers pause in my hair and I think her face pales a little, or maybe it’s the lighting. After a moment, she goes back to her soothing rhythm. “Why haven’t you told me about him before?”
“I wasn’t confident that we had a relationship. He didn’t really like me at the beginning, you know, so we had to get past that, and then, well, find compatibility. So I avoided telling you until I was sure about what we share.”
“And you are now?”
