Memories

Chapter 1

"I love you," I say. "The doctors said you won't remember me, or anybody for that matter, but just trust me. I love you more than anything in the world." I pause, waiting for a reply from the body lying in the bed: nothing comes. "Your mum said you were awake, but it's okay if you don't say anything as I'm just a stranger to you, but please, give me a signal or something to show you're listening." Again, there's no sound or movement except for a flutter of your eyelids. I take it as a signal, so I begin to talk. "The doctors and nurses say that I should tell you about us as it might help you remember so I may as well start at the beginning." I stop to brush a lone tear from my cheek as I recall the memory. "It was a cold day with frost on the ground and the trees were bare, but the sky was clear. They're my favourite type of day, you see, and I was in a good mood. I was thirsty and stopped for a drink from the pavilion in the park. It has a hexagonal shape and is made from blackened wood as if it's been in a fire, but the roof is bright red, like poppy petals."

***

I had been waiting in line for what felt like ages but was really only a couple of minutes and there were still multiple people in front of me. The service was slow, and each customer was taking even longer than the one before them. I wasn't at the back of the queue anymore, but there were still more people in front of me than behind, despite it being lunchtime. The longer I waited, the thirstier I became. I felt as though if I didn't have a drink in the next thirty seconds, I would pass out with thirst. After managing to hold out, I finally made it to the front, but they had sold out of hot chocolate with caramel, so I had to go with my next preference (raspberry syrup). The server was a rebellious looking young woman with piercings in all the places they could be and jet-black hair with heavy eyeliner circling her ominous eyes. She even had a tattoo of a snake winding around her neck. Whilst waiting for my drink, I asked her what it symbolised, and she just gave me a dark look as if I'd murdered her mother. I could see now why the line was moving so slowly: she was working alone and there was a large selection of complex drinks and sandwiches on sale. As I was about to pay, my stomach grumbled, reminding me that I left my lunch back at my apartment, and I ordered a Twix as well. Armed with my takeaway cup and snack, I turned to see which tables were available: they were mainly filled with families entertaining children or other students like me trying to find somewhere peaceful where they can do some work. My eyes found a lone bench facing the river; it didn't have a table to lean on, but it would have to do as the raucous around the pavilion was too loud for me to concentrate and this essay had to be done to my best ability. I'd been cooped up in my small apartment for a while surrounded by the echoing sounds of gunfire from the TV as my ever-procrastinating roommate his friends have fun shooting down simulations on the screen and I felt like I should get some fresh air. It was also my favourite type of day and I needed to concentrate which was impossible with the racket coming from the video game addicts that live on the couch. I started to walk across the grass, which was still slightly crisp from the morning frost, towards the empty seat when a young woman, who looked a similar age to me, crossed my path. I was concentrating on not spilling my hot drink down my new beige coat and they were distracted with a phone call. I stumbled on a frozen molehill, sending my hot chocolate all over their canary yellow sweater as I crashed into them. I will never forget the look of utter disgust mixed with anger and annoyance on the poor girl's face.

My attention was drawn to her obsidian eyes: they shined like dark pools reflecting the moon. Her eyes were surrounded by olive skin that looked as though she had just returned from someplace much more luxurious than the rainy midlands; it was peppered with pale chestnut freckles all over her rounded nose and smooth cheeks. I took a step back and noticed her brown hair, streaked with blonde fibres, was pulled into a loose plait. It draped over her shoulder and, judging by the way it was escaping its confinements of the plait, she was already having a stressful day. I bent down to pick up the lid which had popped off as we made contact. As I looked u from the floor, I noticed her well-worn suede boots that rose halfway up her calves. Out of the top, a neat rim of white fur wound between the buckles on the outside as a sharp heel dug into the ground. From the top of the boots to where her sweater started, a fading pair of skinny jeans protected her legs from the biting cold. I reminded myself that I had just spilt a hot drink down her front and, when I looked up to meet her eyes again, she was staring right back at me.

"Sorry, sorry," I mumbled, trying not to spill the remaining liquid in the clear plastic cup =whilst using a spare tissue from one of my pockets to mop up the liquid from my wrist.

"Urgh!" She exclaimed, then spoke into the phone she was holding to her ear. "I'm sorry, I've got to go: some idiot just spilt their drink down my front." There was a pause as the person on the other side of the line spoke. "Okay, just get her home as soon as possible, or you'll be in even more trouble." The girl returned the phone to her handbag after ending the call and pulled her jacket across her front to hide the chocolate stain. I couldn't tell if it was a sibling or someone else that she was talking to, though I think it was a sibling judging by her tone. "What do you want? You spill a drink on me and then stand gawking at me."

Realising that she was talking to me, I tore my eyes away from her perfect face. "I'm truly sorry. Is there anything I can do to help?" I asked, genuinely wanting to assist the latest innocent victim of my clumsiness.

"Yes, weirdo, that's to move out of the way."

I did as she said and continued my path to the bench. As I reached it, I looked back to see where she'd gone, but the beautiful stranger was nowhere to be seen (I presumed she had gone to the bathroom to clean herself up). I settled down with the remainder of my hot chocolate – amazingly it was still about two-thirds full – and my Twix. I tried to focus on my essay and forget about my most recent casualty, but I couldn't do it: she was there in my head and wouldn't leave. When I saw her appear again, I subtly snapped my laptop shut, which I had rested on my knee, and slid it into my satchel. I followed the girl to the edge of the park where I watched her mousy plaits board a bus and disappear into the distance.

"I will find you," I whispered to myself, determined to see her again.

***

"Alex?" I'm drawn out of my storytelling trance by Esmerelda, her mom.

"Yeah."

"Jen's come to pick you up. She's waiting in the car."

Jen's my older sister by five years. I think she's overprotective, but she insists she does all she can to avoid me. I have a brother who is halfway between us, as well, but I don't get to see him much as he lives on the other side of the world in Australia; he really does do all he can to avoid us. He was doing a degree in sports out there at the University of Sydney and decided to stay after he graduated (we all tried not to be offended and failed dramatically).

"One more minute." She nods. "I was determined to follow you because even though you looked as though you could have hung me from the rafters, I saw forgiveness and kindness in your eyes. They're as pure as crystals and glow like the embers of a bonfire: subtle, but warm and always caring. Even in your moment of hatred, I knew that you weren't truly mad at me." I pause, as I look at where your hand lies on the pale blue blanket that encases you like a carefully wrapped cocoon. "I have to go now, but I'll be back tomorrow to tell you some more whether you like it or not, I promise." I stood up and pressed my lips to your forehead before leaving the room. At the door, I turn and see you watching me.

"How much does she remember?" I quietly asked the doctor who's hovering in the corridor.

"It's hard to say for sure, but we think she might have some basic knowledge of colours and vague pictures or flashes of memory. That's the first time she's opened her eyes since she woke up, well, when anyone's been around anyway," I turn to look back at her, but she'd closed them again. "And she hasn't said a word to anyone, so no one knows how much she remembers," the doctor, a relatively tall woman with mousy brown hair and a white lab coat, replies. I quickly check her name badge: Dr Peters, it reads.

I sneak a look back at the lady lying in the bed before continuing down the corridor. On the way past, I give Esme a quick hug and wipe a tear from her face. "It'll be okay," I reassure her.

"I hope so," she replies, anxious for her daughter. "Jen says she's waiting for you downstairs."

"Thank you, for everything," I say before going and finding my sister.

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Thank you for reading this.

I'll update every Tuesday and Friday with a new chapter.

Hx