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twenty

Six Months Later

I kicked open the door to my apartment, dropping the grocery bags on the door. I sighed, placing my hands on my hips as I breathed deeply, trying to catch my breath.

Four flights of stairs and ten bags of groceries wasn't fun. At all. 

It had been four months since I returned to law school, the only school my parents were willing to pay for at the time, a minor job at my dad's law firm after school, a writing hobby alongside that.

I moved into the city a few months ago as well, paying for that myself. I haven't seen Luke since the coffee shop, nor any of the boys. Anna went on a trip across country with her new boyfriend, David finding some other girl to brainwash.

I had only started writing a few weeks ago, remembering pieces that I wrote. I remember a journal that I had but it was at Luke's and I didn't plan on going there anytime soon.

Luke said that I needed to discover what it's like to be without him. He was the only constant that I had was him and I was basically feeding off of him to understand the missing memories.

If Luke and I were meant to be them we would be together. We would live together and we would probably be getting married by now, but no, the world doesn't work like that.

Living without Luke and finding who I was without him was the right decision to make. He was right. As much as I didn't want to believe him, as much as I didn't understand in the beginning, I do now. 

I stopped reading his letters. I read one every day for about a month before I realized their redundancy. There was no use in reading a letter about someone I can't remember. About someone that doesn't want me to remember. 

You could say I was angry. I was upset, angry, but I understood. He let me go so I could understand myself but the only times I felt understood was with him. Sometimes, I understand that he wanted me to find myself but sometimes, I don't understand how he let me go. He talked about how much he missed me, how much he loved me, and that he would give everything to have me back in his arms, but yet, he let me go.

Those memories that slowly started drifting back stopped. Whenever I was with Luke, something would come back and I would be reminded of the damn near perfect life him and I had together. But now, even when I dreamt, there weren't any memories. There wasn't anything new or familiar in the dreams that I had.

Eventually, I stopped caring. About Luke. About the missing memories. I realized that maybe the past didn't matter, maybe Luke didn't matter.

Here I was, without him, making a life for my own. Maybe that was enough. Maybe Luke was making a new life for himself like I was. Making a new life without me.

I packed away my groceries, taking a shower before settling in front of the couch to watch Netflix while I finished up some case files for work. I think that it was funny that my favorite part of becoming a lawyer were writing up the case files. 

In class, I would find myself writing excerpts about the people we were learning about. Writing about their past lives, before they became a lawyer. I wrote about how, perhaps, some of them didn't want to be lawyers at all but instead an actor, or a model, but just like my father said about writing, "those aren't dependable careers."

I'd found a new coffee shop to spend time. Mugs was Luke and I's place, but it was his now. For me, it was too far out of the way for an easy trip and I didn't want to risk running into him. There was a new coffee shop less than two blocks from my apartment names The Hideout, their coffee was good, but their hot chocolate was better.

Nights when I'd stay up until four am reading, I'd head down there and buy a large cup of hot chocolate to calm me down before bed. Or, I would order a large cup of coffee with double espresso to keep me awake for school.

To give an overall feel for my new life, I'm alright. Things are good. And although I still think about Luke and wish everyday that I could remember him, I don't. And that's okay because he said once that I should know myself whole before finding someone to make me whole.

A wise boy, he is.

To keep my mind off of Luke, sometimes I wrote him letters.

I didn't mail them. Sometimes, I ripped them up and tossed them in the bin. Other times, I folded them up and put them in a box under my bed.

Luke,

I woke up from a dream about you and was disappointed that I couldn't call or text you about it. I mean, I could, but that would be weird, wouldn't it?

You were dressed in this awful costume, I don't think it was a memory because it wasn't Halloween and I'm sure that I wouldn't let you walk out onto the street in a hotdog costume.

You said that Calum gave it to you and you lost a bet, making you wear it all day.

Calum seemed like someone to do that. 

Somedays, I think about you every minute. Somedays, you don't even cross my mind. 

Fucked up how that works, huh?

Anyways, someday I hope to see you in that stupid hotdog outfit, or even that stupid smile on your lips.

                                                                                                                                         - Bell