Inseparable ➳ Peter Parker

28 - Samuel

"Stop playing with the I.V."

I pulled Camella's hand away from her other arm, which was pulling and picking at the tubes.

"They itch," she stated defensively. I sighed in defeat.

It's been four days since Camella woke up. Every day after school, I'd come to the hospital to talk to her, or sometimes just to have her presence while I did homework. She may not be the same, but it was still her.

It was getting to the point where we were all just waiting in anticipation for when she'd just... remember. It was like talking to a shell of Camella, not the real her. I wanted to talk to her so bad.

Every time I told her a story about her childhood, the memory of it would replay through my mind. She seemed to like hearing about when she was little. Her complete focus was on the words of the story, and I could even tell she was imagining it in her head.

"Tell me another story."

I looked up, torn away from my trance. Camella looked at me with a hopeful expression.

"Okay, umm, let me think," I told her. I looked out at the setting sun, searching through my mind before I found something to tell her.

A faint smirk came across my face. "I've got one. When we were 8, we went to this carnival, and at one game, we both won a fish. They were yellow, but yours had this one little smudge of blue on its side. You named your's Samuel and I named mine Rocky. Anyway, after a while, we were about to leave when you realized that your fish didn't have the blue smudge on it."

I laughed slightly, remembering that day. "We must've spent at least an hour retracing all of our steps. You were absolutely devastated. Like, crying and everything. Eventually, you gave up and decided to just go. As we went to go pick up our stuff, I noticed that my fish had a blue smudge on it."

Camella started chuckling as I continued. "We switched fish sometime during that day and never noticed until then."

I looked at Camella as she laughed. It was the same smile, same light, breathy laughter, but it just still didn't feel right.

"What's wrong, Peter?" she asked, her laughing dying down. She must've caught me looking at her. "You look like there's something you want to tell me."

And then, it happens. I told myself I wouldn't and that it's not a good idea, but here I am.

"There's a lot I want to tell you, but I can't. I waited too long and now look. I don't even know when you'll get your memory back, if at all," I exclaimed in frustration.

Camella looked at me with a worried, somewhat nervous gleam in her eyes. I stood and began pacing.

"Whatever I tell you won't make sense! Because you don't remember that day we met in kindergarten. You don't remember all the time we spent together. Eight years, almost. And you don't remember you moving away for a couple of years. Or reuniting a few months ago."

I stopped pacing and looked Camella dead in the eye. "These past few months have been the best months of my life. I couldn't imagine my life without you, but this right now is so much worse. You're here, but you're not here, you know?"

I knew I was making Camella feel terrible, and I hated that, but I couldn't help it. The look in her eyes said it all: it was a mix of shame, apology, guilt, and pain. "Peter, I don't—it's not my fault."

I sunk back down on the stool and buried my head in my hands. "I know, I know, I just—" I sighed. I lifted my head, staring into her eyes. "I just want you back."

Camella

The amount of pain in his voice made my throat close up. I felt like I owed him a thousand apologies. Whatever happened between us broke him. I wish I remembered so that I would know what to say to him so that we could figure it out.

"Visiting times are over, son." A doctor came by, stopping in to help me get ready for bed.

Peter stood up, eyes still trained on me.

The expression in his eyes shifted, from pain to pure sadness. "I'll see you tomorrow, Camella."

My eyes followed him out of the room. Thoughts raced through my mind well past when I should've been asleep, but just as I was dozing off, I couldn't help but hope and pray that I remembered who I was and who everyone else was.

{edited 5/11/20}