Forget Me Not

What do you do when the love of your life forgets?

Not the good times.

Not the love.

Not the passion.

But the pain and heartbreak and betrayal.

He doesn’t remember that he broke my heart.

But I do.

He doesn’t remember the darkest parts of our marriage.

He doesn’t remember that six months ago, I said goodbye.

What do you do when the love of your life remembers your marriage but not your divorce?

For the women who fought like hell for their happily ever after…

and for the ones still fighting.

Present Day

Four zero six

Four zero seven

Four zero eight…

The sound of my heels against the linoleum flooring is all that floods my ears as I walk down what appears to be a never-ending hallway.

I pass the rooms one by one trying my best not to look inside. Trying my best to avoid eye contact with all of the families that are waiting anxiously in the intensive care unit to know the fate of their loved ones. I’m not good with tragedy or death or sickness. I’m not good with hospitals; they give me a sense of uneasiness I’ve never been able to shake. I’ve been here ten minutes and I already feel the anxiety crawling up my throat and threatening to expel from me in the form of bile or tears. The agonizing fear had taken ahold of me the second I received the phone call and slowly unfurled in my chest the entire way to the hospital.

“Mrs. Clarke, are you in any position to drive yourself to the hospital? Perhaps you should arrange for transportation? …Mrs. Clarke? Mrs. Clarke?”

I’d let the phone fall from my fingertips, and it crashed and skid across the freshly mopped marble floors of my kitchen. The breath fell from my lips in quick bursts as I imagined a life without the man I’d known for the past nine years. The one I’d been happy with for over ninety percent of them.

Four zero nine.

I stare at the numbers next to the door, holding my breath as I attempt to make my way through the open door when a familiar face comes into view.

“Liv.” The sense of familiarity washes over me, giving me a sense of comfort as he walks towards me and shuts the large door behind him. I try my best to see inside before he closes the door, but he pushes me back slowly and guides me to a small bench in the hallway. “Did you drive here?”

“N—no.” I stammer out as I shake my head. “I wasn’t sure I could. How…” I swallow down the tears. God knows my eyes have cried over this man hundreds of times, but now wouldn’t be one of those times. He was fine. He had to be fine, and thus I wasn’t about to cry for him now. Not when he’d eviscerated my heart earlier this year. He wasn’t allowed to spend another minute holding my tear ducts hostage. My lip trembles, refuting my thoughts and I swallow down the tears. “Wren,” I whisper the name of my husband’s best friend, Wren Hamilton, who also happens to be the best neurosurgeon in the city. “What…what’s going on?”

He puts his hand over mine, and I watch his eyebrows furrow as he rubs his hand over my bare ring finger. “He loves you so much, Liv. He’s such a wreck without you.”

I look up from where our hands are joined, where his warm hands cover mine that feel frozen solid. Despite the comfort, I slide my hands from underneath his and just like that the tears have dissipated. “Yeah, I’ll bet. I didn’t come here to rehash the details of my failing marriage, Wren; I came here because I was told Bennett was in an accident.” I turn my gaze towards the door and speak my greatest fear into existence. “He’s not going to die, right? Because…” I clear my throat, trying to dislodge the ball of emotions that has filled the space from speaking those words aloud. “He can’t die.” I bite my bottom lip just as tears well in my eyes. I’m afraid to blink, knowing it will cause one to cascade down my cheek.

“He’s alive, Liv, but he’s unconscious. He was in a car accident and suffered quite a bit of head trauma. Traumatic brain injuries are quite normal in the severity of his accident, but there are some things I need to keep an eye on.” He pulls his stethoscope from around his neck and holds it in one hand as he leans over and rests his forearms on his thighs. “He’s banged up, Olivia, but he’ll live. If that’s even what you would say he’s been doing the last six months…” he trails off and I roll my eyes at his obvious attempt to make me sympathetic to our situation.

“Okay, now is really not the time.” I brush my hands down my black pencil skirt and cross my arms over my chest. I’m so not in the mood for this. Is this an ambush about the divorce? Hell, is Bennett really even in there? I let the morbid thought float through my mind once before shaking my head, knowing that Wren would never do something deceitful like that. He’s actually a good guy, the best, and I know he’s just being Bennett’s best friend, but he’s my friend too.

“Then when is the time, huh? You won’t talk to me or Lys,” he barks referring to his wife and my best friend as he stands up and begins to pace the floor in front of me. “Whatever is going on with him physically, will heal. I’ll see

to that. But his heart won’t heal that easily.” His eyes transform into haunted and exhausted orbs with a hint of resentment. Like it’s my fault that all of this is happening. As if it’s my fault that we’re going through this.