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Her hand, stroking my back, goes still, then starts to make a slow, firm circle. I feel her soft laugh as it moves inside her throat. “Why don’t I, Bear? I can’t even think of one thing.” I feel her lips move over my hair. “If I really love you, I love everything, yeah? Good and less good. Whole burrito.” She laughs softly, tucking the blanket more tightly around me. “So there is no ‘why.’ There’s ‘why not’, and there’s no reason why not. You know what else?”
“No,” I whisper.
“I’m not flip-floppy. I don’t change my mind once it’s made up. When I like someone, I like them. My college beau? I always kind of knew he was a prick, but he was comfortable, I think. Jamie? Liked her from the second I met her. Nic, her boyfriend? Never have. Don’t even know why. You?” She strokes my hair. “Love at first kick. And you know what else?”
“What else?”
“I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately. It sounds kind of weird, but hear me out.” When I don’t speak, she goes on, “You might say you don’t deserve it—and you don’t—‘deserve’ it. Love is, by its definition, impossible to earn. It’s an abundance. It’s extravagant. Did Bill Gates ‘earn’ a gazillion dollars? That much money can’t be ‘earned.’ He hit the jackpot for a thousand different reasons. Worthy or not. Love is like that, I think. It can’t be deserved. It’s given. It’s a gift. And I’m giving it to you. You wanna try to give it back?”
I lay there, breathing. I kiss her throat. “You’re incredible, Piglet.” I would never think to say that in the way that she did, but I feel it just the same. I wish I could convey it.
“You’re the best thing I’ve ever had. The best thing in my life.”
“I’ll take it,” she says. “Because I want it.”
She wants me. For just a moment, I savor it.
TWENTY
GWENNA
December 30, 2015
We fly out of Nashville just a little shy of 5 p.m., on a nonstop flight to Denver International Airport. Barrett booked our tickets and surprises me with first class. I get strangely teary as we sink into our roomy, leather seats. Jamie and Nic spent Christmas in Breckenridge with her family. It’s the earliest she’s ever headed out to Colorado, and the first time she made the holiday trek without me. That Barrett booked us in first class—gives me all the feels. He doesn’t notice, I don’t think. In fact, in his fluffy new olive green down jacket—hip-length, with a sweatshirt type hood, ragged jeans, and sneakers, he looks slightly sleepy.
He’s been keeping close to me all day. He had his arms around my waist in line to board, which is sort of unusual for him. He’s never minded a little PDA, but he seemed downright handsy. Which I happen to love, but which makes me wonder what’s up with him.
What’s his mood? I can’t tell. He seemed in a good mood, making French toast and bacon for breakfast before I even got out of the shower, but then he shaved his beard and sheared his gorgeous curls way down, and…I don’t know. It seemed so random. He seemed tense after he did it. He still seems off.
We latch hands for takeoff, and I cover us with the bear blanket Rett got me for Christmas. It’s fleece, with a picture of a black bear wandering the woods. Fitting, since Rett is staying at my place most of the nights we’ll be gone.
When we reach cruising altitude, Barrett looks down at me and gives me a gentle smile. A few minutes later, he’s asleep, slumped over in his seat, his cheek resting on my shoulder. Poor guy. I know he hasn’t been sleeping well these last few days.
I can’t help wondering if it’s me. If it’s this trip. He has those dreams about seeing people he knows lying dead, and this trip— It’s kind of about that. About how I was hurt. About the accident. At this point, I think everyone knows that. Why I keep coming out here every year, even last year, when I played third wheel to Jamie and Nic. Because I’m seeking closure.
What they don’t know is I might have found it.
Only Helga knows so far: I think I recognized the voice. The man’s voice. My attacker in the bear enclosure. His voice was familiar. When I think about it, I smell beer. I feel beer slosh over my arm. I think someone called me “snowflake.”
Just snippets. She said it’s not unusual at all. I’ll probably never remember everything on my own, not with a traumatic brain injury, but I could still remember little bits and pieces.
I knew that guy, once. Or know him now. In my dreams, I recognized his voice. I found tickets to an exclusive-ish whiskey bar where celebrities like to hang out on Main Street. Barrett wants to take me there on New Year’s Eve. And that’s a good thing. It’s not even a block from Gemütlichkeit—where I spent my last night as my old self. Where I got a stranger’s scarf and spilled beer on my shirt.
Barrett loves me, I think as I snuggle in beside him. With him here, I think I just might solve some mysteries.
“So Nic is staying next door and you’re here?”
With a little side jump and one palm for balance, Jamie shifts to sit on the counter, but her butt knocks the alarm clock off.
“Oof.” Her mouth is full of toothpaste. I giggle and scoop the clock up.
“You and the bathroom alarm clock.” I shake my head.
“The only way,” she mouths, losing a small glob of toothpaste bubbles.
“Ewww.”
She makes a face at me and spits. “It’s the only way,” she says around brushing her teeth, “because…you know.” She spits again. “You have to walk in here. It wakes you up.”
