Will you remember me?

Chapter 17 POV: Harris Skye

"Harry?" Someone brushed through my hair and I woke up. It was my grandmother.

Yes! I remembered.

"We've reached," She declared and I straightened up and looked around.

The car was parked and grandfather was just getting off from the driver's seat. There wasn't anything to see around through the windows except darkness, from which I construed that we were probably parked in a garage.

"We have a garage?" I asked in awe, for which my grandmother nodded. I'd never considered my grandparents being rich. My opinion changed when I came out of the garage and saw the neighbourhood. Almost all the houses had a garage. The neighbourhood was pretty simple. Modest homes with lawns lined the concrete driveway. The build of the homes was similar because almost all the homes were two-storied, white with black roof tiles.

"Come in dear," My grandmother called out from the entrance, "I'm sure you'd like this place."

I walked up the short stairs to the light green, birch doors and my grandmother led me inside. The inside of the house suddenly felt a lot warmer than the outside.

"Oh Danforth, did you leave the AC running?!" My grandmother fumed, "You know our bill's already high this month with all the renovation work!"

"At least my blunder served some purpose," My grandfather smiled at me embarrassingly, "It'll keep Harris comfortable now!"

A smile crossed my face, "Thank you."

The birch wooden flooring creaked under the weight of my grandfather. As soon as I entered the house, a stairway right beside the entrance led to the upper story of the house while a short, narrow passageway led to the living room where it also connected to a small kitchen.

"Why're you standing in the passageway, Harris?" My grandmother asked from the kitchen, "Come on in, I'm heating some tea. You'll have some tea, right?"

"Okay," I replied and walked in. My grandfather was seated on the couch in the living room, trying to change the AC settings. I sat down on the springy couch and waited for my grandmother.

"Here's the tea," She brought three small cups on a plate and set it down on the coffee table in front, "Careful, it's pretty hot." She advised as she handed us the tea.

The couch had just enough room for two and a half people and with my grandparents sitting on either side of me, the couch felt a little bit cramped. I sipped my tea. I don't remember tasting anything like this before and seeing the confused expression on my face, my grandmother told me that it's something called 'earl grey. It was supposed to be bitter, but not in an unpleasant way. I didn't mind the taste. We sat in silence for some time. I valued silence because it gave me time to think of my next move as a normal-person. My grandfather was the first person to break the silence.

"You can have the room on the top," He said, "And since you don't have any clothes, we're going to go shopping. Later, we'll think of a school for you."

"Yeah," I replied, though not entirely comfortable after hearing the word school again. I felt reluctant and unsure about it. Moreover, I thought it was pointless due to my condition. I barely could remember my name a day back. How will I remember the topics they've done before?

A small desire of wanting to go crept in the back of my mind. I wanted to feel normal. I wanted to see what it was like to hang out with people and socialize. I wanted to know what normal people did during their free times. I wanted to fit in; and this desire only kept growing from the moment it stemmed. Unless someone pronounced me as being incapable of normal life, I wanted to try ­– at least to not feel left out.

Who would even want you if they knew you'd wake up to forget them someday?

"Harris?" My grandmother started; she wore a concerned look on her face.

"W-What happened?"

"Why're you crying?" She asked and I felt a single tear roll out of my eye, "Is there anything wrong? Did we do anything that upset you?"

"No, no, absolutely not!" I replied quickly while wiping the tear off my cheeks, "I'll go check out my room and be right back."

I excused myself from my concerned grandparents and walk up the stairway as normally as I could. I think it was pretty rude leaving them like that but it would've been worse to share with them the turmoil that was going on in my head.

I reached the top floor and found two doors. I wandered into the one nearest to the staircase and found myself in a dark room. I fumbled my fingers on the wall for light switches, and after finding them, I turned them all up. I politely closed the door and examined the room.

The air was a little dusty – like it had never been used from a very long time. There was a bed put up near the door, and this one was the biggest I'd ever had so far. A cute yellow lamp sat on a small nightstand next to the bed. I slowly experimented with the switches until I had only the lightbulbs turned on. My attention diverted to the other side of the room. There was a long, narrow desk joined to the wall next to the window. Thick green curtains blocked the natural light from pouring in. I sat down on my bed, which took the brutal plump without any complaints or creaks whatsoever.

What am I doing? I thought. It's not even been a whole day since I met my grandparents and I can't seem to get along at all.

I had to tell them what was going on in my mind when it came to school. That meant speaking out, but my concern was that they would take it the wrong way and I would end up hurting them.

I can't lie to myself either, I told myself and came to a decision quicker than I thought I could.

I walked down the stairs and found them hushing out their conversation as they heard me approaching. They looked up at me from the couch with concerned eyes.

"What I tell you now might be surprising and you might take it the wrong way," I started, "Please don't take it like that. This has nothing to do with either one of you."

The concern turned into intense bewilderment.

"W-What is it?" They asked in unison.

I took a deep breath. This is it.

"I have changed my mind about living here," I started, desperately searching for better phrases, "I want to try going to school. I know with my memory I can't go to a normal one, but I want to try before a specialist pronounces me that I'm incapable of it."

"Harris-" my grandfather started. He couldn't piece together what he wanted to say.

Would he discourage me? Would he say it's a novel decision?

I had no answers.

"If that is what you want, we can't be getting in your way, can we?" my grandmother said.