Desolate Recollections

Chapter 1.

"Harry, what are you doing?" I look in the backyard to see him squatting by the fence, looking intently at the ground.

"There's a baby frog. I found it in the pool and it was still alive." He explains, standing up. His love for nature is something I will never grasp the depth of.

"Well, is it okay now?" I look at him, entertained. He turns around, with a confused look on his face.

"I mean, I guess." I take his hand and walk inside the house. Storms were rolling in. Why he was cleaning the pool when it's about to get dirty again is beyond me.

Harry goes into the kitchen and washes his hands before offering his assistance with dinner. He can only cook a few things, so he's usually in charge of the bread. "I used to be a baker" should be tattooed on his forehead. I have tried to teach him, but he gets so concentrated on something else, and almost burns the house down.

Okay, well that's an exaggeration. He has only burned something once. Most of the time, he gets too ancy and the food doesn't finish cooking. I'm glad that, in these stages of our relationship, I can be honest with him and not force myself to eat the not-done noodles. He'll usually try a bite, realize he messed up, and we'll end up ordering take out. Those are my favorite nights.

We will order from the Tai place just down the road, the one that's open until 6 in the morning. We'll turn on the tv and just watch whatever while cuddling on the couch. I'll make a mess because he insists that we use chopsticks, even though he is extremely aware of the fact that I am not physically able to. At least we are having a good time, whether there's noodle stains on the couch or not.

But tonight, I'm in charge. Chicken parm with salad and garlic bread.

Sitting down at the table once dinner was ready, I look over at Harry who is cutting his food, and I try to remember how I got here. He's told me over and over again, almost like a single parent tells their young child about their missing parent. But it's just a story to me. It doesn't seem real. Not being able to remember something that has impacted my life so much kills me each and every day.

"Alex, you're going to get a headache, love." Harry interupts my thoughts. He knows me too well.

"I know. I just wish I could remember. It's like... How can it just be blank? Like, there's nothing there, how is that possible?" I put my fork down and put my hand on my forehead, feeling the migraine coming on, but I can't turn my brain off.

"Come here." Harry pulls his chair out a little and I stand up and walk over to him, tears beginning to run down my face. I sit in his lap and the tears begin to fall freely. He rubs my back with one hand and wraps his other arm around my legs.

"I'm sorry." I break the silence that filled the air for minutes. I wipe my eyes and stand up. I'm not hungry anymore, but I sit in my original seat and pick at my food. My head is pounding and my heart is hurting.

"Don't ever apologize for being upset over something you have every right to be upset over." Harry looks at me, and picks up his fork and finishes his meal.

"I just wish I could remember." I say before hesitantly taking a bite.

"Honestly, I'm glad you don't. I mean, I hate you can't remember our first date, or our wedding day. I wish you could remember how I proposed or the tears that ran down my face when you said yes. But I'm glad you don't remember the accident. I'm glad you don't remember the pain, or my face, or the blood." I cringe at the thought of the images that are probably going through his head.

"But I will gladly and willfully tell you about all the fantastic moments, and every memory that I have that still take my breath away, every day until I die." He grabs my hand, his thumb caressing my palm. I don't have words to respond to what he just said, and in all honesty, words would spoil this moment. I return a loving smile, and grab both of our plates.

"Is Holly coming over?" He asked me as he helps me with the dishes.

"As far as I know. I'll go call her. Can you finish these?" I kiss his cheek, not really giving him an option.

"Do I have a choice?" He chuckles, looking over at me.

"Not really." I flash a smile at him and kiss his temple before walking upstairs to grab my phone. I head to the closet to change while dialing her.

"Hello?" Holly's voice booms through the speaker.

"Hey! Are you still coming over tonight?" I ask, hope laced through my tone.

"Yes! I can't wait to see you! I'll be there in about 45 minutes, is that okay? I am having dinner with Kevin right now."

"Yeah, that's fine. Harry and I just finished dinner. Are you bringing the wine?"

"But of course, love. I'll see you in a little bit!" We say our peace and hang up. I find a pair of leggings and one of Harry's white shirts and throw them on.

Holly is apparently one of my teenage friends. We went to high school together. She was the second person I remember. Harry being the first. I've seen yearbooks, and I've read the little messages we used to write at the end of the year, sharing our memories with each other. I don't remember anything, but my handwriting now matches the handwriting back then, so I guess it's true.

Honestly, I didn't like her at first. She was very emotional, and was constantly crying although I don't know why. It's not like anybody died or anything. I mean, I get it. We were best friends and it was a close call. But she was almost hogging the attention. People were constantly tending to her overdramatic scenes. And with me not knowing who the hell she was, I just wanted her to go away. But she was there every single night. And she grew on me. Now she's one of my closest friends, and I rely on her to tell me about my teenage years. She tells me stories about all these crazy things we did. She was there when I met Harry, and she tells me about those nights when I would stay up late with her and gossip about all the things I felt, all the things Harry and I did, Harry's looks, and so many things that I could imagine myself doing.

She tells me about how I'm the same person I was back then. I think it's almost impossible, but I feel like myself. I feel oddly connected to who I was. Or who I am. It's so hard to explain, so I don't try to. As long as I'm at peace with myself, that's all that matters.

Harry walks in as I'm walking into the bathroom to touch up my hair and makeup. I usually keep my long brown hair curled and my makeup simple - mascara, eyeliner, light eyeshadow, and concealer to cover up any indescretions on my face. I keep good care of my skin so I don't have problems with pimples but sometimes they just come out of nowhere. My eyes are my favorite feature. Harry loves my body, but he's also a very sexually-driven being. I don't mind most of the time. But he knows just how to work my body, exactly what to do with me, which makes it extremely difficult when I'm pissed at him. At least our fights don't last very long.

"Alex, you look fine." Harry says as he passes by me to use the toilet. We're in a very open relationship, clearly.

"Shut up, I'm just making sure I don't have raccoon eyes or a rats' nest on my head." I grab a kleenex and pat under my eyes.

"Well trust me love, if you looked like a raccoon or the birthing area for baby critters, I would tell you." He laughs as he washes his hands. The doorbell goes off throughout the house, signaling Holly's arrival. I squeal excitedly and run down the stairs. Swinging open the door, I run out to hug my best friend.

"I have the wine..." She starts.

"And I have the time!" I finish, laughing, and pull her inside.