Forgetful

Letter Five; Frank

Dear Frank-

I can never thank you enough for today. I will never be able to express my thanks, my love, for what you have done for me so far. I write quickly because I'm scared I'm going to lose memory of today's events, such holes in my memory already exist. I'm missing years now, years of my life.

So, I write quickly.

It is October now. After Alicia left and then returned, I put away my pen for some time. I felt it was the only thing that I could do to make up for what I said to her. I think it's hard for her to even look at me. Things have been different since her departure and return, just as one would assume. She no longer tries to engage me in conversation or makes an attempt to touch me. We speak, if possible, less than we did before, but we spend more time together, if possible.

Since I last wrote, I've lost so much more of myself. I think it's better this way because I'm slowly becoming somebody else. That's how much I've lost.

I don't dress myself in the mornings. I can't tie my shoes, so Alicia ordered me a pair of those goofy children's shoes that have the Velcro, which is pretty funny except for when you remember that mentally retarded people probably wear these and then it isn't funny at all. My grammar is worse too. I feel less like the mature, old guy I used to be. Sometimes, like the sentence previous to this one, I say things that are ridiculous, and I can't take them back. It's embarrassing, and I do it all the time.

I think that will explain anything I did today that I can't remember. You were so understanding about it, though. You never were the least bit condescending when I said strange things. I appreciate that. I don't think you see me as a mentally disabled person.

That's what this is.

It's almost like autism if you ask me, but nobody ever does.

I remember this morning, miraculously. I remember laying awake in the living room, my head resting on one of the uncomfortable pillows Alicia insisted on keeping around to make the couches look smaller than they actually are. I think I was watching some show on T.V. but I cannot recall whether it was happy or sad. Alicia came in and dragged me out of my half awake stupor by turning off the T.V. I sat up, my hands dragging across the fake leather of the couch.

"I have to work today," She said rigidly, placing her hands on her hips. Usually on the days she works, as demeaning as it is, a home health nurse comes by and looks after me. Of course, I'm a little okay with that because she makes me Italian food a lot, which is great. I can never remember her name.

I looked around behind me and saw no neat, old lady in a white uniform. I hate to admit that I really liked that old lady. She doesn't really help me with much these days. She mostly sits in the living room, watching T.V. with me and then makes me lunch, we do some memory games that never work, and then sometimes we play "Go Fish" with these cards she brings. We never play anything but "Go Fish." I can't remember why.

Anyway.

I must have looked pretty confused, because Alicia snapped her fingers, and I turned back towards her.

"Somebody else is here to see you," She said with a forced, twitching smile. I wanted her to sound happy in my head, but she wasn't. It was like she was faking happiness so I wouldn't feel bad she wasn't happy. Alicia pointed over my shoulder.

And there you were.

So beautiful. So perfect. You were smiling shyly, a bag hanging off your shoulder, but I can't remember the color or whether it was a drawstring bag or a zip-up one. I'm glad that's all I can't really remember. You waved shyly, smiling towards the floor.