CAN'T IMAGINE

CHAPTER 8 - "REMEMBER THE ISLAND"

Shawn woke in the morning to find that he had turned over and Camila now lay cuddled into the circle of his arms, her head tucked beneath his chin. He held her tight, feeling his heart ache. She was right. In the months leading up to the apartment fiasco, there had been a growing distance between them. He wondered how they would have overcome this breach of trust if they hadn't ended up here on the island, his memory gone. They hadn't been in a strong place when it had happened, and to be honest he thought now that Camila had used it as an excuse to leave. He felt angry, but it faded quickly. Almost dying had shone some perspective on the whole thing. He owed her an apology for being duped by Yuri, and for thinking for even a minute of making such a major life decision without consulting her. He owed her more than an apology. She probably didn't even know that Andrew had extricated him from the contracts, and that Yuri had been deported. Still, she had something to answer for as well, and he knew by the way she had acted since they'd crashed that she did feel guilty, that she knew she had overreacted and kicked him out then run away instead of discussing it like mature adults. It was the first major fight they had had. Oh they had the usual argument about who left the yoghurt out, who left their wet towel on the bathroom floor, discussions about current affair and politics, that kind of thing. The things normal couples bicker about. But they always resolved them, and if it got particularly heated there might be a period of coolness but it always ended quickly, and usually with some passionate making up, and they never went to bed angry.

He stroked her shoulder absently as he thought back to the dream that had returned his memories. There was something niggling at him, something that happened at the end of the dream that he didn't understand and couldn't quite remember, in the ways that dreams often work. He looked down at Camila and saw she was awake and staring up at him.

"You remember," she stated. She knew him too well. He nodded, sadly.

"I'm sorry." Tears pooled in her eyes, overflowing and dribbling down one cheek. He wiped it away with a knuckle.

"We were both idiots," he whispered. "Me most of all."

"You were, but I didn't let you explain..."

"You wouldn't have liked it if I had, it was better to leave it a few days, but you wouldn't listen to me, you wouldn't meet up with me in Miami, so I had to go on the plane."

She slid her arms around his neck. "I'm not glad you crashed and hurt yourself but I'm glad I didn't end up here alone."

He felt his stomach clench and a painful stab in his heart at the thought of her stuck alone here, and he at home probably thinking she was dead. It made him sick and he tightened his embrace.

"I don't remember what we fought about on the plane," he said. "Just flashes of what happened."

"Me too," she said. "That's probably shock or something, or trauma."

He kissed the top of her nose. "It all feels so inconsequential now, in the big scheme of things."

"Nothing really feels that important anymore, compared to being alive, and together," she said, her voice husky with the tears she was trying to keep from pouring out. "But at least we have a place to live in New York now I guess!"

He sighed and pushed back her hair. He would rather talk about it in a different place and time, but this was where they were and he was nothing if not unfailingly honest.

"I wasn't trying to keep anything from you," he began. "At least, not the way you thought. I wanted it to be a surprise..."

"...a stupid surprise..."

"In retrospect yes, and I feel so stupid now, but I really got sucked in by...." He stopped, he was opening a whole can of worms here, and sounding like he was blaming someone else, but there was no way to tell the story without involving Yuri.