My Lovely Jerk {Completed}

Chapter - 11

Unedited 

****

I’ve not seen Bryson in a full twenty-four hours. As I laid there under the heavy fluorescent lights of the hospital room, I could feel myself grow nervous. I was knee deep in panic for I was really thinking that Bryson had abandoned me.

“Honey, what is wrong?” Mother asked as she walked over to my bedside. Her brown eyes swirled with worry as she reached out and touched my hand. Her notion was meant to be calming for she could, without a doubt, see the panic laid out on my face. However, even though she was trying to comfort me, I still felt trapped and as seconds turned into minutes I knew that I might not be leaving this hospital room any time soon.

“Nothing is wrong,” I bitterly lied to her as I jerked my hand out of her grasp. I didn’t want her comfort for it only heightened my stomach knotting emotions.

Mom sighed and I knew she didn’t appreciate my rash action. “Elle, just because I am the only one here doesn’t mean you can take your anger out on me. I know I have been overbearing for the past few days, but that gives you no right to act rude.” Turning away from me, Mom went over to the purple couch that was about seven feet to my left. Plopping down, she reached over to the other side of the couch and picked up a “Vogue” magazine that she purchased at the cafeteria yesterday. I could tell that even though the magazine was in front of her very eyes, she wasn’t reading it because she was mad at me -- and the situation we were in.

Swallowing my pride, I exhaled heavily. “I’m sorry,” I muttered just loud enough for her to hear.

Gradually her eyes removed themselves from the page and settled on me. “I forgive you, Elle ... I’m sorry too. I know I’ve been, basically, watching you like a hawk ... It is just that...” Ma rested the thick magazine in her lap. With tears streaming down her face, she started to contemplate on what to say next but I knew what was on her mind.

“I get it, Mother. This is a lot to handle, especially for you...”

Mother pushed the magazine out of her lap and got up once more. “It is a lot to handle but I’m glad that you and Peter are alive.” Reaching me Ma replaced her hand on mine.

This time I didn’t yank out of her hold, instead I smiled. “That we are. I wonder what Peter will say when he wakes up to find that I’m mentally thirteen-years-old. I bet he will laugh at me,” I thought.

Mom shook her head, “no, he would never laugh at you. Knowing Peter when he wakes up and finds out about your memory loss he will be trying to help you remember...”

I furrowed my eyebrows. “Are we talking about the same Peter? I mean, yes, he is always nice to me when I’m sick. But, the memory I have of Peter is one that if I got in this kind of situation he would go into a laughing fit right in front of my face.”

Shaking her hand, again, Ma spoke. “Peter and you don’t hold the same relationship you use to have five years ago. Now, you guys are actually really, really close. I can still remember two years back when Peter was about to go off to college. Everything of his was packed, bags in the trunk, car running and ready to go. He came in the house to say his goodbyes but you refused to leave your room. You were devastated that he was leaving because you two weren’t brother and sister, you were best friends. You and Peter told each other everything...”

Curiosity as to how our relationship changed started to surge through me. “Do you remember what happened? I mean, do you remember what brought us closer together?”

Looking down at me, Mom removed her hand from mine and started to wring her hands together nervously. “Ummm...”

“Mom? When was it?” I pushed for answers knowing she was holding back something.