Forgetting You

“Two times?” Elliot raised an eyebrow. “He’s been here twice?”

“Last night, and a couple of nights ago. We just spoke, and both times I was fine. He understands Doctor Abara’s orders.”

“If he understood what the doctor said, why did he talk to you about things you can’t remember?”

“Because I asked him questions and he answered.” I shrugged at my father. “I know I’m not supposed to know this stuff yet because of what happened with Elliot yesterday, but this is so hard for me. I keep learning things that are hurting me.”

“Which is exactly why ye don’t need to know about them,” Elliot interrupted. “Not yet, anyway.”

“I don’t understand any of it though.” A lump formed in my throat. “What frame of mind was I in to cut you all out of my life?” I swallowed. “What was going through my head to think that that was the best poxy option for me? Anderson said I was really depressed, but why did I turn away from you all?”

“We don’t know,” Mum answered. “We tried to contact you, but you quit your job and moved in with Anderson within days of knowing him.”

“My God.” I shook my head. “Right after I leave Elliot, I get with a stranger and move in with him? Who does that?”

I could understand moving on with Anderson after Elliot because he’d provided me with what Elliot couldn’t give me at the time, but to move in with him after a few days was drastic – and I didn’t agree with it.

“I thought the same,” Dad grunted. “I showed up at Anderson’s flat with the intention of bring you home, but you told me that you wanted to stay. You were twenty-five. I couldn’t drag you out kicking and screaming, though the thought did cross my mind.”

Elliot leaned forward and took my hand in his. He rubbed his thumb over my knuckles, but even his touch didn’t bring me comfort in that moment. I felt distraught.

“I feel so . . . so upset with myself.” I looked towards the window and out at the swaying branches of a nearby tree. “I don’t know why I did what I did . . . but I’m so sorry to you all. I’ll never be able to forgive myself.”

“Well, ye better,” Elliot said gruffly, causing me to look up at his face. “Me, your parents, our friends . . . we forgave ye years ago.”

I covered my face with my hands and willed myself not to cry. When Elliot’s arms came around me, I knew I was fighting a losing battle.

“I can’t keep crying,” I whispered as I slid my arms around his body. He sat on the edge of my bed and held me. “Nothing changes, no matter how many tears I shed.”

“Cryin’ can sometimes help people feel better. It’s not like ye can help it anyway.”

Once again, Elliot was right.

“Was he here long?”

It didn’t go unnoticed to me that Elliot rarely called Anderson by his name, and now that I thought about it, Anderson did the same thing when referring to Elliot. They both really hated one another, which didn’t help the situation I was in at all, because I was connected to them both whether I liked it or not.

“I don’t know how long he was here. When I woke up, he was sitting next to me and he was still here when I fell back asleep. We just sat and talked a while.” I shrugged as I pulled back from the hug before looking down at my hands. “I feel so cruel.”

I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from crying any more than I already had. I wiped my tears away, feeling frustrated.

“Why?” Elliot quizzed. “You’ve done nothin’ wrong.”

“I talked with him for a good while, and in my head I compared him to you without being able to stop myself,” I explained, not looking up at him. “He was saying all these things to me and I couldn’t make sense of any of them in my mind. He’s my husband but I feel nothing for him, I don’t even want to get to know him because I want you and only you. That’s why I feel so cruel, Elliot. Anderson did nothing wrong, and he’ll be the one who gets hurt in the end because of me.”

Elliot’s touch on my knuckles finally helped me start to relax, and I found myself thinking of Anderson’s touch on my wrist. This was how his touch should have made me feel, but it hadn’t.

“Ye don’t want to hurt him,” Elliot stated. “Sometimes hurtin’ people can’t be helped when puttin’ ourselves first.”

“Putting myself first distanced me from you all in the first place, Elliot.”

“How can ye be mad at yourself for things ye have no memory of?” he asked me. “How?”