“I did?” A wide smile splits her face at the somewhat dumbfounded sound in my voice.
“I was tiptoeing along the edge, saying how cold the water was. And you didn’t believe me. Told me I was being a baby. So I splashed you.” Her fingers move on my forearm, resting there comfortably. We both look down at the contact, but neither of us pull away. “You lifted me up over your shoulder and carried me right into the surf. Threw me into a cresting wave and stood there laughing at me when I surfaced.”
“You must have hated me.”
Shaking her head adamantly, she smiles. “Not once. It was one of the best weekends of the summer. We camped out under the stars and ate S’mores for dinner. And then you . . . Well, it was an amazing weekend.”
“What were you going to say?” Dropping the frame back to the side table, I wait for her answer.
“Nothing. It’s not–”
“Don’t tell me it’s not important.” Propping the crutches under my arms, I reach for her. Holding her shoulders in my hands, I squeeze. “Don’t you get it? All of it’s important. It’s all that I’ve forgotten and if I don’t have someone here to tell me about it, well, then it never happened in the first place.”
Wiggling out of my grip, she laces her fingers with mine, a stark contrast to the cold metal at my side. “We made love all night and then again as the sun rose above the water. Sand got into places it shouldn’t ever be, but we were happier than anything. Lying there, watching the sun rise, it was one of the happiest moments of my life.”
Without even thinking about it, my hand moves to the side of her face, stroking over the round apple of her cheek. “I wish I could remember it all. Every single moment. Just the way you remember them. All the details—the sounds, and smells. How everything felt.” My voice wavers. “I just can’t. They’re not there, yet.”
“They will be,” she reassures, squeezing my hands in hers.
When my parents return with my clothes, they drop off some takeout as well. Exhausted from the long day, they excuse themselves. Lingering at the door with Grace as they make their exit, I know they’re all talking about me, but I don’t have the energy to care.
“You all settled in there?” Grace leans against the doorframe of the bedroom she’s spent the last hour fixing up for me.
Scanning the room, I take stock of everything she’s brought in to me: water, a snack so I don’t have to trudge my way inside if I wake up hungry in the middle of the night, the remote for a television that’s barely across the room, fresh clothes and towels if I want to shower. I’m holding off on that one, knowing I’ll need way more help than I care to take right now. All I need is the kitchen sink and I’ll be completely covered. “Yeah, I think I’m good.”
“Okay. I’ll leave you alone then. Have a good night’s sleep. See you in the morning.” Before closing the door completely, she adds, “I’ll be right in the next room if you need anything.” Watching her walk away, I wonder what the hell I’ve gotten myself into.
Stuck in a vortex of nothing, all I see is black. Stretching out my arms around me, I can ’ t feel anything. With trepidation, I step forward, keeping my arms outstretched. After a few steps, the ground changes. From hard concrete, cold under my bare feet, it fades away, turning into warm grains of sand. The darkness fades, a sun comes into focus in the distance. With each passing step, the sun lifts higher into the sky.
In the distance, I see a small tent. It ’ s far enough away from the shore so it doesn ’ t get wet, but close enough to catch the spray of the surf. Taking a deep breath, the salty air fills my lungs. I ’ m happy. The feeling spreads all over my body, warming my limbs, bringing a smile to my face.
As I walk to the tent, a woman steps out. It ’ s Grace, her fiery red hair flowing in the light breeze. With a blanket wrapped around her shoulders, she stares out at the ocean. She looks happy. Blissful, actually. I open my mouth to say something, to catch her attention, to call her to me. Yet, before any words come out, a man steps out of the tent behind her.
It ’ s me. Stretching my arms above my head, I reach to the sky before letting my arms drop around her. It ’ s an oddly surreal scene to watch. I ’ m standing here watching a scene from a life I don ’ t remember play out in front of me. I ’ m watching me hold the woman I ’ m supposed to love.
They don ’ t notice me at all as I walk toward them. I don ’ t exist—this new, memory-free version of the man in the dream. They hold each other, letting the cool ocean water wave over their feet as the sun greets them. “ Mornin ,’ babe, ” I say, nuzzling into her crazy hair.
“ Hey, yourself. ” She leans against me, her heat seeping into my bones.
Grace turns around into the circle of his arms, wrapping both of them in the blanket she ’ s holding. Catching a glimpse of her naked body, I feel my own reacting.
She ’ s gorgeous. There ’ s no other word to describe her. Creamy skin, curves for miles. And that smile on her face. It rivals the light from the sun.
He drops the blanket to the sand, lowering Grace to the powder blue fabric in the process. Everything blurs together. There and here. Him and me.
Then it ’ s only me and Grace.
There ’ s no other me—the me who remembers. I become the same person.
Hovering over Grace ’ s body, everything from that weekend falls into place. Capturing her mouth in mine, I taste the sugary sweetness from the S ’ mores. The gritty texture of the sand scratches the palms of my hands. Her scent, vanilla and orange, surrounds me, holding me close to her body.
Sinking into her body is incomparable to any memory I thought I ’ d ever recover. The soundless vacuum in which dreams exists pops to life. “ Gracie, baby, ” I groan into her ear.