Remember Me

Chapter 4.

Have you ever just stopped and thought, why is this happening to me?

I'd never been the type of man that needed an explanation for everything. Things happens, and that was that.

I learned that from my mother. She didn't question the world or the people in it. When my father's murder went unsolved, she didn't push for answers. She simply sucked it up and went on with her life. Maybe it was a smart grieving process, but maybe it was extremely idiotic.

She had her first child-Justin- at 17, followed by me at 21, then Nikki at 22. She was a young mom, but she was a good mom. She was everything a good mom sould be: caring, nurturing, and a little crazy.

She never played favorites, even though Nikki would have been the obvious choice. Unlike most parents, she treated us as her equals. We cooked for ourselves, and we made our own decisions. We could leave the house when we wanted, and go where we wanted. Despite our unlimited freedom, we never partied, like a normal teen would. We didn't want to. We had everything a teenager could ask for. Why screw that up with a few drunken decisions?

Now as I sat watching Amelia sleep, anticipating my mother's arrival, I began to miss our former lives in New York. I longed for the time when there were no nieces and nephews getting in the way of spending time with each other. As much as I hated to even mention it, I wished for the life I once had where I wasn't married to a girl that couldn't remember my name.

A nearly inaudible knock sounded from the door, and I immediately knew it was my mom. Amelia didn't stir. So I got up and stepped outside the room, making sure not to wake her.

She was shorter than I remembered. Her long brown hair was braided down her back like it usually was. Her blue eyes stared up into my identical ones.

We looked almost exactly the same. The only slight differences in our appearances were that she was shorter and chubbier than me. I had no resemblance to my father, in fact, the only things I'd inherited we're his height and athletic abilities. My dark hair, blue eyes, and creativeness were all from my mother. As a teenager I often had found myself thinking up the idea that he wasn't even my real father.

"Honey, you look thin. Are you eating enough?" Despite my struggles, tears began to slide down my cheeks.

She quickly took my in her arms, pressing my head against her shoulder.

"Oh baby, I'm so sorry this happened." Her voice was soft and filled with tears of her own.

In the past month, I hadn't once cried. You think I would have, but I hadn't. To be honest, up until that moment, I hadn't felt the need to. I'd been pre occupied with Amelia nearly dying that the thought of taking my focus away from her seemed irrational.

"She doesn't remember who I am."

I knew that if I did cry, I wouldn't have anyone for comfort. My mom had been in New York living her own life, Justin was in New York trying to support a family by doing whatever he does for a living. Amelia.... Amelia couldn't even talk to me, let alone attempt to comfort me.

Now I had someone, and I was going to cry.

"Aaron," Mom trailed off as she squeezed me harder.

My sobs increased in volume, causing nurses and visitors to look our way.

"Aaron Alexander Sears," She paused.

"You don't get to cry. You think you're having a tough time with this? Imagine how that girl in their feels. If you cry, I'll cry. Once I start crying I can't stop unless I'm throwing shots of vodka down my throat." I laughed, which had been a rare occasion in the past month.

She slid her back against the wall, then patted a spot beside her.

"Mom, she doesn't want to go back with me. She told me she wants to go back to Florida." I told her as I took the spot on the floor, leaning my head on her small shoulder.

"Well then, we'll have to change her mind, won't we?" Her voice had a hint of urgency in it that I'd only heard a few times before.