Remembering You [Folive]

5| telling the story

FIVE

     Fletcher and Olive sat on the couch talking for over an hour about Angus and Chyna, but mainly because Olive asked many questions. He didn't detail anything about the trio's friendship, because he didn't want to confuse her. During the last story he was telling Olive about Angus, she'd fallen asleep on the couch. Fletcher set his bottle of Coke down on the the coffee table, and look at Olive's resting eyes. He was hesitant to wake her, but knew she'd be more comfortable sleeping in her room on the bed.

"Olive?" He lightly shook her body. She mumbled as she squirmed around on the couch. "Do you want to move to your room?"

Olive opened her eyes halfway. "I'm sorry Fletcher Quimby, I fell asleep while you were talking."

"That's okay. You're tired."

Olive swung her legs off the edge of the couch. She stretched her arms out, yawning. "Good night," she said, getting up and walking to her room.

Fletcher stood up quickly before she could close the door. "Good night Olive." He longed to reach his hand out for her to grab, pulling her in and giving her a good night kiss. But at last, she disappeared for bed.

It was at that time that Fletcher was more solemn than he'd ever been because now it was two weeks since Olive's accident and being her 'caretaker' and not her boyfriend was painful. Everyday that he woke up, he was reminded that the girl he loved didn't love him back. Whenever he watched her read in the kitchen or living room, he'd stare at hoping she'd turn around and realize who he was all along. Yet whenever Olive looked back, she'd bark at him for staring.

Usually when Fletcher was depressed, he'd start a new paining, it lately that didn't ease his depression. No matter what he did, his mind clouded with visions of the day "it happened" and memories of there days in the A.N.T. Farm. He thought about how Olive's incredible memory defined her and made her who she was and how he used to be anointed by her rambles and factoids. But now that she lost some of her memory, he missed them. The worst of it all, Olive would probably soon realize she's well enough to be out on her and won't leave his apartment and he'll no longer be her "caretaker."

Fletcher pondered those things as he brushed his teeth, preparing for bed. Just when he was all ready to climb under the covers and turn of his lamp, he heard cupboard and fridge doors open, followed by a thud that made Fletcher's heart pound. He dashed out of his room, nearly tripping himself. He was relieved to find that Olive was just getting a drink of water. Even though Fletcher showed up in the kitchen without making a sound, as Olive turned toward the direction of her room, she caught him out of the corner of her eye and her body shook; her glass had water flying out of it. Fletcher gasped with regret.

"I'm so sorry," he exclaimed softly, his hands out in panic. Though apologized, Olive scrunched her eyebrows, squinting at him.

"I was just thirsty Mr. Quimby," she stated.

Fletcher's shoulders hunched and he looked down for a moment. "Sorry," he apologized again. "I wanted to make sure you were okay."

Olive clanked her glass on island then crossed her arms. "Look, I know your my 'caretaker,'" Olive our up air quotes, "but I'm capable of taking care of myself. I don't know who you are, but thanks for taking me in. I'm going to bed now."

Fletcher wanted to say something desperately, but there left to say. Olive's stitches were pretty much healed and she was well enough to take of her self, except the fact that she didn't know where she was born, who her parents, or best friend were and Olive wasn't aware of that. If she wanted to "move out" of his apartment, he'd to let. Fletcher didn't know where else she'd go besides her parent's home. It'd better for her rather than living with a "strange" guy in his apartment. Fletcher decided to ask Olive about it even after their moment of conflict.