A Part of My Memory

Elliot

"I don't understand, why does she only remember me?" I questioned.

"We don't know," the doctor admitted.

"You're doctors, you're supposed to understand," I sighed, stressed. "Can't you just read her brain or something?"

"It doesn't work like that."

I ran a frustrated hand down my face. "Why didn't she remember Reed? If she remembered me she should have remembered Reed too."

"She remembers you and no one else," the doctor said, and I already knew that, I just couldn't accept it.

"Why?" I asked. "Why does she only remember me?"

"We suspect that it's because you were the last face she saw before she fell completely unconscious at the accident, that is correct, right?"

I thought back to the accident, to the short moment when her eyes fluttered open and the moment I recounted those details to the paramedics. "Right."

"Since she only remembers you, you need to take care of her," the doctor told me.

"What?!"

"Just until she regains her memory," the doctor informed me. "If she's made to live with people she doesn't know it won't help her remember anything."

"So you want her to live with me?" I asked.

"Yes."

I let out a long, slow sigh, "for how long? How long would it take for her to regain her memory?"

"A few days," the doctor considered. "Or months, or years. It depends on the patient."

I shut my eyes and explained, "I've only known her for two days."

"But for her," the doctor told me, "you're all she knows."

****

I agreed to take her home with me, but not to my house, to my parents' house.

I wasn't going to take her to my place and live alone with her, that wouldn't work. Even if I was the only person she remembered, I didn't think that would be the proper thing to do. The doctor had also said that constant interaction would be good for her, and since I lived alone there wouldn't be much interaction at my place since I'd be at work most of the day.

"So, tell me," Zara said once we entered the car. "What is our relationship? Like, how do we know each other?" Before I could answer, she said, "are we friends, or are we more than that?"

"I..." I coughed, caught off guard. "We're not more than friends."

"So just friends then?"

"Yeah," I told her. "We're cousins, distant cousins."

That was a lie, but I had no other choice. When I told my parents about Zara, they said to just address her as my cousin, and that was mainly for the sake of Jess, my fiancé. She was extremely overprotective and easily rendered jealous so if I introduced Zara as just a friend who was going to be staying with my family, she would do everything in her power to chase her away, and she needed me to regain her memory. Calling her a distant cousin was also a much simpler explanation if anyone else asked about her.

"Cousins?" Zara considered. "Why would I remember my cousin of all people in the world?"

"I was the last person you saw before you fell unconscious," I explained. "So that's probably the reason."

Zara nodded in understanding, and I couldn't help but notice the pensiveness in her expression.

"Hey, how are you?" I asked, then suddenly remembered the last conversation we'd had when she had told me that the only female I should care about was my fiancé. And yet here I was, taking Zara to my home. But then again, that didn't mean that I cared about her, I simply cared about her well-being, there was a difference.