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It won’t work.
If he forgets, he forgets.
I never will.
“I feel like I don’t even know you,” Chloe says, scrutinising the Sylvanian sets laid out on the thirty-centimetre-deep ledge that spans the entire length of the hospital room’s window. The moon isn’t on this side of the building, but the stars create a glittering backdrop. The perfect stage for my critter creations.
“They are cute,” the blonde nurse says, just popping her head in to check we aren’t doing anything weird…erthan what we are actually doing.
“I like them,” Fawn agrees from the doorway, not stepping inside, while Stacey has avoided the room entirely. She is happier in her isolation, clutching her coffee and flipping pages of a magazine faster than she can read them. She’s waiting for the Butcher Boys, staying here as a kind of scout, I imagine, in case the doctor comes out with news.
Chloe lifts a small bottle of red wine from set one—the night he forgot—the piece no bigger than her fingernail.
“You have been doing this for… how long?”
“Pretty much since I can remember,” I admit, twisting the miniature bathtub until it faces the perfect angle, away from the window, the foam balls inside emulating bubbles.
“Right.” She curls her nose and lies through her teeth. “Cool. They’re cool. I get it.”
I crook a brow at her. “They aren’t cool.”
“ThankGod!” She exhales hard, a laugh of ridicule riding her breath. “They aren’t. They really aren’t. This might be the most uncool thing I have ever seen anyone do…ever.”
“I know,” I admit, but—
“Which one would I be?If you ever deem me important enough, which Sylvanian would I be?”
“I don’t have a panther. So maybe a wolf or a fox.”
“What are you?”
“I’m a rabbit.”
“Well, then I wanna be a rabbit, too.”
The memoryof Xander wanting to be a part of this world spurs me on to complete my set for the entire hospital to see. The Butcher Boys. Luca. I don’t care. It’s him and me. We are rabbits, and these are our scenes.
Finished with the laundry setup, I step back and take in the five meticulously staged sections. Luckily, my obsession with these toys means I have entire houses, décor, cutlery, and all, for my families; it wasn’t hard to find different items to display our memories.
The first time we met.
The trampoline.
The motel chain.
The bathtub.
The washing machine.
He won’t forget…
“What is this one?” she asks, pointing her finger at the little laundry room display. “How is doing laundry romantic?”
My heart warms, the sensation spreading the length of my body. “That’s when he said he was keeping me.”
“Keeping you?” She presses two shellac-embellished fingers between her brows, massaging. She is so tired. I can see it in the shadows below her eyes, but she can’t sleep. Not when I’m here. She really is my best friend. “Fuck.Love is so dumb. I never want to feel it. Speaking ofnotfalling in love, I have to go back to Kenno’s. I left him in bed for this. And he’s still pissed at you, but we are working on it with me sitting on his face.”
I roll my necklace against my chest, eyes still trained on the windowsill, to the first thing Xander will see when he wakes up. When he wakes up perfectly fine or… I’ll have them there to help. To jolt his memory or… laugh at. I’ll take any of the above as long as he is breathing and…him. “Kenno is one million dollars richer now, so he—”
