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So, I’m guessing if you’re reading this, it happened. You had the surgery and you’re alive. Yay. But you have no memory of what came before. I’m so sorry. I can’t imagine how lost and alone you feel right now.
I want to start by telling you that you were loved. So much. By so many people. I wish I could explain where they all are, but I can’t. But there is something I can do for you. I can fill in the blanks. I knew this was coming. I knew this was going to be the outcome from the minute that doctor stepped into the hospital room and told me what was wrong. Every scan, every appointment, I’ve known I would lose my memory, even when the doctors tried to reassure me. I can’t explain why, but deep down, I knew, and it’s why I’ve had to make some hard decisions.
In the box is a book. I’ve spent weeks writing down everything I can think of, so you never need to feel like you don’t know. I’m giving you my memories so you can use them to live in the future without this stupid tumor. I know it’s not ideal, but it’s a start. And we’re strong, Nee. We are made of tough stuff and no matter how crappy you feel right now, trust me, I get it, but it will get better.
When you’re ready, the book is in the box. I hope I did enough.
Love, past me. X
I ran my fingers over the words, suddenly feeling like I wasn’t all alone, even though I was. I spent the next two weeks seeing more specialists and having physio, making sure I was healthy enough to be discharged so I could get back on with my life—a life that was never going to be the same, but a life I’d detailed in a book that I read and reread, soaking in every word.
The book contained everything; photos of my art, of my old apartment, scribbled notes that I’d obviously remembered in fleeting moments, and others that were long and detailed that I’d thought about, before writing in what looked like my neatest handwriting.
You hate shoes—I mean, what is the point? They are only there to suffocate you. Avoid at all costs.This was the first line and made me laugh for the first time since my operation. I think I liked past me, which gave me hope for future me.
You also dislike people being late and donuts with holes… chose glazed ones every time. You love making art, Thai, sushi, coffee, and cocktails.
Don’t try using this as an excuse to stay inside and binge watch Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Life is too short to watch that crap again. Despite how hot Angel is.
You like to sleep on the left. You usually sleep in a shirt and fluffy socks because you like the room cold, but your feet warm.
You’ve always wanted a tattoo - get one.
Don’t listen to your dad when he tells you that Mum died. She didn’t; she left us. When we were eight. He’s now married to someone we’ve never met, and he’s paying for the operation, your new apartment, and anything else you might need out of guilt for being an absent father. Don’t feel bad for asking him for money. You won’t get much else from him.
Talking about apartments. When you’re discharged, there is a train ticket to Miami waiting for you because you can’t fly. There’s a new phone in the box. Turn it on. The code is 1121—which is our birthday, by the way—and the ticket is saved in the train app. I’m sorry there aren’t any phone numbers stored on there; it’s too hard to go back to our old life like this. But you’ll make friends in no time. I know you will.
When you get there, there is a house furnished and waiting for you. The keys are in the box too. Make sure you do what you want to make it feel like home. You also have a job lined up at The Grove. They know about our op and are happy to be employing a girl with no memory—I’ve spoken to the manager, Mark, about it all. He’s lovely. Dad will look after you financially, but I thought it was a good way to get you out of the house.
Make art. It might not be the erotic stuff I used to make, but make whatever you feel pulled to create. Your art is how you communicate your feelings, so don’t lose that. And make sure you pay attention to what it’s telling you.
The book contained the fabric of my life, story after story about who I used to be and the experiences I’d had—about my best friend, Lea, the accident that led to me being here, how I crashed my first car and hadn’t driven since, how I got into art and how my first gallery show felt. It felt like a stream of consciousness, unfiltered, released onto the page, and it helped so much. I couldn’t remember any of it happening, but those words meant I didn’t feel like I didn’t know who I was.
On the final page of a book was the photo of Archer that I’d looked at more than I probably should have. Despite the warning about never contacting him and me thinking he’d hurt me in some way, I was drawn to him. His dark eyes, the bow of his lips, the sharpness of his jaw. I’d traced the outline of his features so many times I could probably draw him in my sleep, but I never understood why I was so obsessed with him. Until last night.
Until my fiancé landed on my doorstep.
Until I’d told him I had no memory of him.
While I tried to block the look of pain on his face when I’d explained about my memory, I pulled out the envelope that was taped in the back of the book, staring at the message on the front.
Do not open unless you see these symbolsand then there was an octopus, some flowers, and an infinity sign.
I laughed the first time I’d seen it, thinking past me must have been losing her mind by this point because where was I ever going to see those three things together, but last night I did. On the wrist of the man I was never supposed to contact.
A man I could now see walking up the path to my front door.
Chapter 27
Archer
“CanIcomein?”
“Sure. You wanna sit out the back in the sun?” Ionee stood on the doorstep dressed in a long, dark blue dress, with thin spaghetti straps, showing off her freckled covered skin. Her hair fell over her shoulders and was held in place by a matching blue scarf that I now knew covered her scar. Longing to touch her, but knowing I couldn’t, I forced my hands in my pockets and followed her inside.
“Actually, can we sit in here?” I asked, not wanting some passerby to notice me and take photos, or worse, for a crowd to gather and terrify her.
She looked puzzled for a minute but then pointed to the sofa.
