Forgetting You

Elliot closed his eyes as he clenched his hands into fists. To Anderson he said, “She wants me to stay, so I’m stayin’.”

“She’s my wife,” Anderson replied. “She’ll remember why I’m her husband and not you soon enough!”

I watched the interaction between them and I felt the loathing they had for one another. It wasn’t simply dislike; it was raw hate, and it was clearly felt by both of them with a passion.

“Until then, I’m stayin’ right here.” Elliot slowly turned his head and glared at Anderson. “You’re upsettin’ her by being here, so leave. Now.”

Anderson turned to me one final time, looking like he had a million things to say, before he left the room with the two security guards following behind. I watched him go, and part of me felt horrible and cruel. I had no memory of this man, but he knew me as his wife. I had no idea what was going through his head and I selfishly didn’t want to know, because I was having a hard enough time trying to figure out how I felt – let alone how everyone else was feeling.

“Elliot,” I said. “None of this feels real to me. I can’t be married to that man. I don’t even know him.”

Everyone stood back while nurses entered the room and cleaned up the mess I made from vomiting. I apologised over and over, but they assured me it wasn’t a big deal. Elliot took the empty seat to my right when everything was cleaned away, his eyes on the hand I had grabbed without thinking. With his free hand he was rubbing his fingertips over my knuckles, an action he did whenever he felt anxious. It made my heart clench.

His touch on my knuckles felt more intimate than ever, and it seemed touching me still helped to relax him. It comforted me to know that this hadn’t changed for Elliot even though we were no longer together and I was married to another man.

I found myself wondering if Elliot’s life had changed just as mine had.

“Elliot, why is another man saying he’s my husband? Why aren’t you my husband? I really don’t understand any of this. What happened to us?”

Before I got the last word out, the terrible ache spread across my head once again. I moaned and leaned back, covering my forehead with my free hand.

“Noah? Look at me, green eyes.”

I opened my eyes as my hand fell away from my face.

“Ye have a lot of questions, you’re scared and nothin’ is makin’ any sense to ye. I know, and I wish I could make it all better for you, but I can’t. Ye need to relax and stop puttin’ your brain through its paces. It’s workin’ overtime right now and ye need to give it a minute to get back into the swing of things.”

I sniffled as my eyes filled with tears.

“No.” Elliot swallowed as he brought his face to mine and wiped away the tears on my cheeks. I smelled whiskey on his breath. “I’m here. Don’t be scared, I’m right here.”

His closeness made my breath hitch.

“Don’t leave me,” I pleaded as I put a hand on the back of his neck. “Please, I need you so much.”

“I’m not goin’ anywhere, Nono. Go ahead and rest. I’ll be right here when ye wake up.”

“We’ll all be here, love,” Dad said, his tone firm.

“Promise, Dad?”

“Promise.”

The mention of rest had my eyelids suddenly feeling heavy and impossible to hold open. I tried my hardest to fight the seductive lure of sleep, but I was no match for it. Every bit of strength I had was drained from me. I let my eyes flutter shut with Elliot’s words falling with me into darkness.

“I’m never leavin’ ye again, green eyes. I don’t care what the hell happens. I’ve been apart from ye long enough, you’re my person. I’ll be fuckin’ damned if I let ye slip through me fingers again.”

CHAPTER EIGHT

ELLIOT

This was real.

I was sitting next to Noah Ainsley – Riley – and holding her soft, supple hand in mine as she slept with the morning sunlight shining on her beautiful face. She’d been asleep for almost ten hours and I couldn’t stop looking at her for fear that she’d suddenly up and disappear into thin air. I’d had dreams like this, ones that felt so vivid and lifelike that I wanted to sleep forever to stay in the moment where it was just me and her, like old times. This wasn’t a dream though – somehow it was my reality. I couldn’t stop staring at her. I noticed things that I remembered about her and things that I didn’t.

Her golden-blonde hair was cut up to her shoulders and no longer hung in waves down the length of her back. It was buzzed on the left side of her head, close to her ear to allow her wound to be cleaned and stitched closed. Her thick, fair eyebrows were as I had always known them, but a small, straight scar cut through the right one leaving a tiny gap between the hairs. I wondered how she’d got that scar.