The Stella I Remember

21| Down the Rabbit Hole

"Are you high? I mean...you have to be high as fuck to be sayin' this shit."

"Marcus, don't—"

"Don't what? Call someone to come take your crazy ass to a rubber room?" He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket. "Too late. I'm not letting you go down this goddamn rabbit hole again."

I walked around the small island in my kitchen and snatched Marcus' cell phone from his hands. "I'm not high and I'm not crazy. Will you just let me explain?"

I reached into my pocket, pulling out first my wallet then my phone. I grabbed the picture I always carried around of me and Stella from the festival. On my phone, I pulled up a picture I semi-snuck of Stella on our little trip to New Orleans.

I say semi because she didn't know until after that I was taking the picture. It was after our little rendezvous by the river. She was sitting on the bed in my hotel room, wearing nothing but my ACDC shirt—which she decided to keep. Again. I went out to her car to get something that I left inside, and when I came back, she was laying on her stomach with that journal in front of her. 

There was just something so...innocent about her in that moment. She was a unique mixture of happy, sexy, and cute. It was an image I didn't want to forget. So, I pulled out my phone and called her name. When she looked up at me, I snapped the picture.

"Look," I said to Marcus, holding up the picture and my phone side by side. "Tell me this isn't the same girl."

Marcus' expression was skeptical, but he looked at them anyway. "I'll be damned." His jaw dropped and he looked up at me. "It's—it's her! But...how? When?"

Who? What? Where? 

I returned the picture to my wallet and sat my phone on the counter. "She's the one renting the cabin."

"No fucking way!"

I nodded. "Yep. Believe me, I was just as surprised."

Marcus leaned against the island. That skeptical expression he was sporting was now one of awe. "But...how? I mean, how did you run into her? And what was her excuse for bailing on you at that airport?"

The hint of anger in his tone didn't surprise me. After all, Marcus had no idea what really happened. It was obvious that he would think that Stella stood me up. Abandoned me. Used me.

"It's not like that." I exhaled a weary sigh. This was something I still had trouble talking about. Hell, I didn't even want to think about it. "She was in a car accident. A bad one."

Marcus cursed under his breath. "When?"

"On the way home from the festival. She had head trauma—a brain injury. She lost all her memories, Marcus. Everything. She didn't even know who she was. She didn't..." Fuck. "She didn't remember me."

"Christ, Elliot. I'm sorry. Is she okay?"

I shrugged one shoulder. "I don't know, man. I mean, health wise, yeah. I think so. But she's having trouble with her memory loss."

"I don't blame her. I don't know how I would even deal with something like that. Or worse, if something like that happened to Abby? I would lose my fucking shit." Marcus was quiet before he frowned and asked, "What about the journal? Shit. You tossed it. That could have really—"

When I kept my eyes everywhere accept on my best friend, he figured out the truth instantly.

"I knew it! You never threw it away, did you?"

I threw my hands up. "What do you want me to say, Marcus?"

"Well...I guess nothing now. Shit, Elliot. I only wanted to help you. It was killing you. Then after that night—"