Page 51 of Forgotten
Once the dishwasher is loaded and I have heard Ash climb the stairs with Winnie, I meet my dad’s eyes, the same brown as mine.
“Fordy,” he says simply, opening his arms wide.
“I don’t remember anything, Dad,” I whine, just like a child. “I know you and I know Ash, but I have no idea how I ended up with a child, or a house, or a whole fucking life. Ash is my boyfriend? How did that happen? And who’s Sadaf?”
Hugging my dad tightly, I wish I could go even more back in time, when Mom was still living with us and we were all a family and homework was the hardest part of my day. When Dad was younger and taller and his words were my law.
“Oh, my sweet sweet boy.” Dad holds me tight in his arms and speaks in his softest, wisest voice. “Sadaf is your social worker, who’s been taking care of Winnie. You were just about to apply for an adoption order when you had the accident and now everything has been on standby. Lovely woman. She even visited you at the hospital.”
I think of the contacts in my phone and I recall a list of different social workers saved there. I don’t have the chance to ask anything further, though, before my dad speaks again.
“And you and Ash, are you really surprised? When you two met for the first time, I knew I was going to love that man as my own son for the rest of my life. You used to be so different, before you met him, you know? You were so shy, so small. And then when you met him, I got to watch you become who you always were supposed to be. This strong minded, wonderful man. You became confident and you made it your mission to protect Ash, to make him feel like he belonged with you and with us.You might not remember what I told you the day you came out to me as Ash’s boyfriend but I’ll remind you. I told you that I always knew, Fordy. I got to witness my son meet his soulmate when he was seven years old and every year after that, it was a step you took towards each other. You two were always destined to be and it was a privilege to witness your love story.”
I let the tears fall freely down my face, the first real ones I have allowed to escape my eyes since waking up without half of my memories. I have tried and tried speaking with Ash, telling him more of how lost I feel, how desperate to go back to whatever was normal life before. But, somehow, this is the first time that I feel completely understood.
“I don’t know what to do, Dad. How do I get all of my memories back?” I cry, pulling back and wiping the snot away on the cotton of my t-shirt. Should I research more about patients with amnesia? Should I try shoving my head against a wall to see if it helps my brain? Get into another accident and hope it fixes me?
My dad does what he’s always done when he sees me cry. He finds a handkerchief in his back pocket and hands it out to me with a kind smile that reminds me of Ash’s and impossibly, of Winnie’s. “You don’t need to do anything. Just know, just because you don’t remember your love story right now, doesn’t mean it hasn’t always been one.”
“My love story,” I repeat, wondering what exactly my love story is.
“You know what Ash would say?”
I shake my head wordlessly and my dad grins at me.
“He’d say some crap likefriends to lovers.”
I bark out a laugh, knowing exactly what he means. “Keep working on your impressions.”
My dad bends his head sheepishly, “You know what I would say, though?” He doesn’t wait before adding, “You two are two peas in a pod.”
When Ash makes his way downstairs with Winnie, he walks my dad to the door and leaves me in the living-room. Winnie and I sit on the carpet with some wooden blocks to stack and I twist one of her curls around myfinger.
I can’t help but listen as my dad tells Ash, “Call me if you need me, alright? I’ll be over around seven-thirty tomorrow so you can drive Ford to the hospital. Be safe, will you. And Ash, he hasn’t called his mother.”
I blink away the tears, glad that finally Ash has a dad who cares for him and is there for him.
When he joins us in the living-room, Ash scoops Winnie up and hugs her to his side, soft eyes betraying him. One doesn’t need to know Ash since childhood to know he has missed his daughter. He does not mention my mother.
“Blo’!” Winnie yells and wiggles until Ash drops her back down on the carpet.
“Okay, okay. You can play blocks with Dad.” Ash scoffs exaggeratedly at Winnie, and in return, the little girl gets on her feet and wobbles in my direction. When she reaches my crossed legs, Winnie lets herself fall into my lap and her short arms come around my chest.
“Midyou, Da,” she tells me and she looks up with big warm eyes.
“I’m glad you’re okay, peanut.”
I have no idea where the endearment comes from, but I catch Ash’s approving smile.
Winnie then goes back to her blocks, so I must be doing something right.
???
The next day around twelve I’m making lunch sandwiches for Winnie, Ash and myself when my phone rings. The display tells me Vicky is calling me, and when I pick up she starts talking immediately.
“Ashley texted me you might be flipping out so I’m ringing you.”
“To check on me. Because you love me,” I supply.
