Charlie's Angel

51

"Boyfriend?" She squinted her eyes and shook her head. "No, Daddy said I'm too young for a boyfriend."

"No Charlie," I sighed. "I was your boyfriend. For like two years."

She shook her head again. "No, you're lying. I don't know you, sir."

I dropped my head and nodded. This was gonna be hard as shit to get her back to her old self—if that was even possible. Now I had to help her with her memory, and I had to kiss her ass for fuckin' up when we weren't together. Shit, I apologized and we were on good terms again, but it wasn't enough for me. I wouldn't stop until she had fully forgiven my stupid ass for fuckin' her over.

I fucked up bad and I knew that. I knew it would be awhile until she really, truly, trusted me again. But for her, I was willing to wait a thousand years. Anything to keep her with me. I couldn't have her mad at me; it hurt me, believe it or not.

Yeah, I was a big-ass softie.

It hurt, more than anyone could even imagine, for her not to remember who I was. Our history. Our connection. It hurt like someone was settin' my heart on fire. Pourin' salt on a fresh wound. It was a blinding pain that had my heart struggling to beat in a steady pace; it felt like I had asthma and I didn't have my inhaler. To put it simply, I was crumbling.

"Bab—Charlie, listen to me, okay? I was your boyfriend. You have a daughter named Paris, she's about five now. Isaiah is my nephew and he's almost seven. I asked you to be my girlfriend on the one year anniversary of when we first met, remember? I wrote it on a napkin in some lipstick."

She stared at me blankly. No recollection at all.

"I need you to remember who I am, remember us." I reached for her hand but she flinched away from me.

"I'll tell my daddy if you don't leave me alone. He'll beat you up, Mister."

I gave up. There was nothing I could do. Not a damn thing to help her. She didn't know me, and I just had to accept that.

I sniffled quietly to myself and tried to walk past Sam, but she grasped my arm in her hand. "Chris, please."

"Sam," I mumbled. "Please, just let me go... I can't do this." I rubbed my face just as the first tear broke surface. Not again. I had to turn this shit all the way off.

"Chris, please stay. We both need to help her." She ducked her head to look up at me and she swept her manicured fingers under my eyes—she had green stiletto nails to match her eyes. "She's gonna need you."

"Hey Mister," Charlie called softly and I froze up. "Are you crying?"

I turned towards her slowly and avoided her eyes, but shrugged.

"Come here." She was waving me over with the arm that wasn't in a cast. Reaching over to the table beside the bed, she grabbed a tissue.

Sam nudged me on and I sat down in the chair. Charlie tugged on my arm to bring my face closer to her. She reached her hand up with the tissue and began wiping up under my eyes gently.

There was a moment after she finished where she just held my face in her hand, our eyes finally meeting for the first time today. Intensely. Her irises were searching deep into mine for answers; she was really trying to remember who I was. Her eyebrows were creasing in concentration as she thought, but then her eyes blanked out and she let me go.

Still nothing.

I looked back at Sam, but she looked back at me apologetically. "I'll keep working with her, buddy."