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My jewelry box tips over in my rush to snatch the mated coin out of it. I squeeze the coins together in my fist and press it against the sharp pain that’s filled the empty spot in my chest. My legs fold under me as sobs rack my body.
I can’t do this. I can’t do this anymore. Goddamn you, Alden. Look how you’ve left me. Look how you loved me. It’s too much. It hurts too much.
The sound of my bedroom door opening barely registers. I can’t feel the hard dresser against my back or the floor under me. There’s only the bone deep agony of missing him. An arm slides around my shoulders, and I turn to bury my face in Oliver’s neck.
“I’ve got you,” he says softly. The same words I’ve told him more than once.
He holds me while I cry until I have no tears left, and I lean my head against his shoulder. “I miss him.”
He rubs my back. The simple touch of affection is comforting. “I know. I’m sorry.”
Guilt fills me when I confess. “Sometimes, I’m jealous that you can’t remember. There are times I wish I could forget everything for a day. I know that’s horrible, to want to forget someone who loved me so much.”
“No, it’s understandable. You’re in pain that you can’t see an end to. You don’t really want to forget him. You want a break from that agony. I can relate.” He rubs my arm. “I’m sorry for getting mad at you when you’re trying to help me. I get frustrated and it pisses me off, but I shouldn’t take it out on you. I don’t know what I’d do without you. I’m trying to remember. I promise. I’m trying as hard as I can.”
His tone pleads with me to believe him, and it fills me with guilt. “Oliver, you don’t need to convince me of anything. I know how hard you’re working.”
“I feel like I’m disappointing you.”
Things are falling into a new perspective for me. I’ve been so focused on getting his memories back I never considered the quality of life he has now matters too. He’s had months of rehab and misery. Of me running him place to place desperately trying to jog his memory.
“You could never disappoint me. This isn’t about me, it’s about you getting your life back. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have pushed so hard. Your days can’t be limited to trying to force your memories to return. And you aren’t a problem to me. You’re my family.” I sit up straight to stretch out a kink in my back. “What’s something you’d like to do? Something you’d enjoy?”
He shrugs, stands up, and takes my hand to pull me to my feet. “I’m not sure what I like. It kind of comes along with not knowing who I am. I have heard good things about sex. So, I’m game if you are.”
His teasing smile is illuminated by the slice of light through the bathroom door. It spreads across his face when I crack up laughing.
“Meh, it’s not all it’s made out to be. I don’t think you’d like it.”
“I’m not going to know if I don’t try new things,” he says in a lecturing tone.
“I could always look up one of your exes and ask. They’d be new to you again.”
He puts his hand over his heart. “Ouch. An amnesia burn. Ruthless.”
This is what he needs. What we both need. To laugh and joke and lighten things up. Some relief from the constant stress.
“I don’t have any appointments tomorrow. Let’s go out and have some fun.”
He agrees and hugs me before he heads off to bed. I feel better after crying and laughing. The coins are still in my hand, and I press my lips to them before putting them both into my jewelry box. “Goodbye,” I whisper.
I’m not only saying goodbye to Alden, the love of my life, but to us. How we were then. Who we were then. I have to leave us there. In this box. In the past.
There was always a choice to be made, sitting in front of me but buried in grief. I see it now. It’s either stay in this spot, grasping at someone who’s already gone, or let him go and learn to live without him.
I know which one Alden would want. I need to want it too.
* * *
“Bowling?” Oliver says, when I park outside of Last Pin Standing.
“You used to love to bowl. You and Alden were on a league with Milo for a while.” I stop him when we get to the double doors. “We’re here to have fun, not force any memories, okay? This isn’t even the bowling alley you used to go to.”
A smile inches across his face. “Got it.”
It’s early afternoon and the place is almost empty. A woman and her preschooler are playing on one lane, and an elderly couple have another. We get a lane and rent some shoes.
“This feels like a toe fungus waiting to happen,” Oliver chuckles while we change into them.
