Resurrection [On Hiatus]

09 - Memories

The way she kept looking at him after he had told her that there was no better motivation than vengeance, showed him she agreed. Which wasn't that hard to understand. After all, someone had murdered her, locked her up and wiped her memories. She was no longer the same woman with whom he had wanted to marry, but he could still see the old Norah. Her distant attitude reminded him of their first dates, calling up the same longings. 

"How long ago?" she asked after a while. He had prolonged the silence on purpose – after all, she was the one who was looking for answers. Of course he had questions himself too – he wanted to know who the hell had done this to her, but he doubted she could provide him those answers. 

"Our marriage? Ten years ago."

"Ten years..." Sighing, she massaged her temples. "How old am I?"

"Thirty-three."

Frowning, she looked at him. "You too? You don't seem the type of guy who wants to marry on such a young age."

He grinned. "Everyone who'd get the chance to marry you, would do it Norah."

She rolled her eyes. 

Bowls of soup were put in front of them. He watched how she picked up her spoon and realized she held it in a different way than before. Her mother had always cared a lot about etiquette, but as it seemed she had forgotten about that too. It was crazy, to find out that all those little details were still buried somewhere deep inside his brain. 

"How did we meet?"

He tasted the soup and let the substance roll through his mouth. Too salty for his liking. In the meanwhile he tried to decide how much insight he wanted to give her into their past. It was very tempting to... sugarcoat some things – or simply leave some things out. Back then, she had forgiven him. Whether this traumatized version of her would do the same, remained to be seen. 

"You moved to Harlem in your senior year. Your father grew up around here and missed it. The family of your mother was involved in the oil industry, had made quite some money, and your father had done well for himself too. Actually he was quite an example for us street kids." He lifted the corner of his mouth, then he thought about her mother. 

Yeah, she had been a real bitch.

"Your dad wanted you to go to a public school instead of a private one, which your mom preferred. So you ended up in the same school as me. One day we were working on this project together, we had some fun, I asked you out and well, it turned out we'd liked each other since the moment we'd laid eyes on each other."

The lies rolled over his lips easily. 

It was so far from the truth that he didn't even feel guilty. That was how things should have gone – if he hadn't been such a total jackass. Now he had the opportunity to change that – so why wouldn't he? 

"So... then we were together for... five years?"

He nodded. 

The way she looked at him, showed him that she was just as enamored with him as she had been the first time. Not at all. 

In silence they ate their soup. When his bowl was empty, he shoved it away. "So what do you still remember, Norah? Where have you been all those years?"

She looked pensively at him for some time. Clearly she didn't trust him yet. In the end she shook her head. "That's none of your business. Tell me more about me. What are my parent's names? Do I have siblings? Close friends?"

Shades answered all her questions patiently. Her eyes were holding his glance the whole time, as if she was trying to catch him in a lie. He however was honest about everything – about everything but their first encounters. 

. . .

Shades felt exhausted when they returned home. The memories he had called up hurt – something beautiful had been destroyed and even now she turned out to be still alive, he knew he would never get it back. She was traumatized – and in all honesty Shades had to admit that he had no idea how to deal with that. Perhaps it was better to let go of the illusion that she would ever become his Norah again. She was someone different now – he was someone different now. 

And still he knew deep inside that he wouldn't give her up. Not after ten years of mourning. Not after everything he had gone through, after everything he had done – for her. 

They were silent during the ride home, both deep in thoughts. To his relief he discovered that her friends had at least taken the dead girl off his couch. What they had done with her, didn't matter.

"And now?" Norah gave him a questioning look. 

"Now I'm going to sleep. Your friends can use the couch. Or leave. I don't care."

"And me?" She tilted her head a little. 

He swallowed at the sight of the look in her eyes. He had seen that many times before – always when she was taking off his clothes. He felt the longing to lay down with her flame up. 

"You can sleep wherever you want," he still answered in an indifferent tone. 

Then he turned around and entered his bedroom. He didn't bother to look at his phone – he had no interest in seeing how many missed calls he had from Mariah. He took off his clothes, got underneath the blankets and shoved a hand underneath his hand. Staring at the ceiling he tried to make sense of everything that had happened today. 

He didn't get very far. 

The door was opened and someone slipped inside. Although it was dark, he recognized her contour effortlessly. His breathing faltered as she crawled into bed next to him. Man – what the hell was this? His imagination had to be running away. 

"I thought... maybe this calls up memories." Suddenly her fingers glided across his chest – long caresses, touches he had missed so much. 

"You sure as hell call up memories in my head," he answered in a hoarse voice. 

She snuggled up to him, placing a hand on his cheek. Her lips came closer, his heart was racing in his chest. 

But right before she kissed him, a gruesome pain shot through his skull. 

"I'm sorry baby," she said softly, her voice soaked with mockery. "But it weren't made-up memories I was looking for. I know you lied to me when you told me how we met, so I guess I have drag those memories out of your head myself."