Memories

Chapter 4

He doesn't remember anymore—that's my job. I keep the stories locked away like golden trinkets that will never rust. In the box is the way his hair shimmered in the light because of the snow still clinging to it. How he smiled that first time and the way his eyes lit up when he laughed. The box holds the smell of the hospital room and the piercing cold that I now consider beautiful. In that box is my husband. It's where the real David lives, not this one wandering around my house like a lost dog. Not this one that doesn't pick up the kids and swing them around, not the one that can't kiss me goodnight. Someday I know I'll have to relieve myself of the burden of keeping my love alive. I'll have to finally let him go; leave him in the care of the moon and the stars.

1987-1988

I was released from the hospital the next day, with full use of my fingers and toes and instructions to keep very warm for at least a week. I lost myself in the layers of clothing I stacked on. I was grateful that thanks to winter break, I hadn't missed any classes. I told my friends about my adventure and they all, of course, found it hilarious.

"Wait, wait, wait!" Cassie giggled. "How hot was the guy?"

I had given her a look and stayed silent.

That weekend, David called me and asked me on a date with him. I politely told him no.

"Aw, come on, Willa, just once? Please? We don't even have to make it a date. We can just hang out as friends."

"I'm sorry, but I can't get involved right now. I've got so much work to do at school and hold down two jobs to pay for it. I'm swamped!"

I thought that would be the last I heard of him, but he called again the next day. And the next. He was fully intent on getting a date with me, no matter how many times I declined. My friends were all reprimanding me for denying the "wonderful gift of sexy-ass-man that God had presented me with". January 14th, I was sitting in my dorm studying for a development test when there was a knock at the door. Karen answered it with, "Oh! Are you the sexy hospital guy?"

"Karen!" I yelled, and she ignored me, inviting him inside.

"What are you doing here, David?" I asked, putting my book in my lap. He was wearing a simple jeans and T-shirt with a leather bag slung over one shoulder. His hair was no longer flattened by the snow but stood just a little spiked. He had a bit of scruff that, I'll admit, added to his looks. He smiled at me as he took me in.

"Well, the phone seems to be broken. It seems that every time I ask you out, you say 'no'. I know that can't be true, so I came to ask you in person."

Karen groaned, "God, Willa, go out with him already! Look at him! If you don't, I will!"

I looked up at him and cocked my head, causing my brown hair to fall slightly into my eyes.

"Why are you so determined?" I asked. "I'm nothing special."

"Oh, that's a matter of opinion. So what do you say? Coffee?"

I let out a long sigh. "Okay. Coffee. Wait here while I get dressed."

David doesn't drink coffee anymore. He tells me he doesn't like how it tastes, says it's too bitter. I've explained to him that he used to drink it with four creams and three sugars, because that makes it almost seem like chocolate milk, but he just won't drink it. He drinks orange juice these days while reading the paper in the mornings. The real David hated the paper. He said it was too depressing; all the violence and death...why start a perfectly good morning like that? This new David reminds me of the paper. He's black and white—there's no color, no spirit. To me he is a walking corpse that refuses to rot.