Forgotten First Kiss

“Yes, and you layered it with ice cream.”

“Jeremy!” I put down my utensils and placed my palms flat on the tablecloth. “I can cook!” Then the full understanding washed through me, and I spoke more softly. “You taught me to cook.”

For a second, he eyed me. He wiped his mouth with a napkin. “You put in the work.”

I had? If only I could remember! If only I could capture more of the pieces of what happened. They floated nearby, but I had no net to collect them.

Try reenacting some of the activities you know you participated in—with the people who were there, Dr. Chen had said, implying my brain may cooperate.

The cooking had done so. What about other things? It was too cold for tennis or golf now. My bike was ruined, if we’d biked together. I’d ridden in his truck without recalling anything specific.

That left … kissing.

“Jeremy, I need your help.”

“I get that a lot from you.” He said it good-naturedly, bless him. “What now, Danica?” He pronounced my name like it was a substitute for milady.

“I need you to kiss me.”

“Is that so?” Jeremy’s face didn’t betray any emotion, blast it.

“And not just a peck on the cheek. I need us to kiss like we were kissing when my amnesia disappeared.”