Page 81 of Forgotten
Sydney wipes my tears with the edge of his shirt. “You don’t mean that.”
“But I do. Fuck, I’ve known him my whole life. I wish I didn’t. I wish I’d known what it feels to live without him so that if he chooses to leave, if he never remembers, I would know how to survive.”
I let it all out, because once Sydney leaves, I need to push it all back in. I need to be an adult, be responsible for not only myself but for Winnie too.
Sydney stays the entire day and in the evening, Darshi joins as well. She hugs me and makes dinner and when it gets dark and it’s time to leave, she takes Sydney to the side. I hate this, hate being the one they need to care for. I’ve always hated being the child around them.
When they come back to me with guilty eyes and a plan, I can’t do anything else but listen. “Sydney is going home with the boys. I’m staying with you tonight.”
I want to argue but I know it’s pointless.
“And then, Morgan is coming over tomorrow. Ford’s being discharged on Thursday right?” Darshi asks.
I have no idea how Sydney and Darshi managed to get Morgan involved in this plan but I know not to ask questions when Darshi is in rescue mode.
“Gregory Hale is picking up Winnie in twenty minutes. Go pack a bag for her.”
And that’s where I draw the line. “Winnie isn’t going anywhere.”
Darshi looks at me and lifts a perfectly manicured finger. It reminds me of the day she decided Sydney and I were going to be her friends at school. Darshi never accepts no for an answer.
“Either you are packing Winnie a fucking bag, or I will send Sydney to do it. And you don’t want Sydney in charge of anything children related,” she argues.
From the next room, Sydney yells “I’m the father of your fucking children, Darsh.”
Flexing her finger, Darshi lifts her brows pointedly. Right. Message received.
???
I never knew how much of a village it takes, but when Ford finally comes home, I’m glad I had that village. I’m glad I let someone take care of me, even for just a couple of days.
With Ford at home life feels like before the accident but not quite. He stumbles around, looking disoriented and confused by his surroundings. Every time he sees one of his possessions I think he’s going to lose it, he’s going to accuse me of stealing him and his identity away, of selling his apartment and putting on the greatest show to prank him. He talks in his sleep, something he’s never done before, and although I can’t make out real words, I know they aren’t good dreams. I want to wake him upevery night, tell him that he is okay, but I’m scared he will go to sleep in the guest room and I can’t bear being away from him.
Having him at home, even without his memories, is better than not having him at all. Better than having him in a lonely hospital room. And most days, it feels like it’s 2022 and we’ve only just gotten together. Ford is shy around me and I love to see the way his hair curls right after a shower. I love to hear him strumming on an instrument without a real plan of what will come out. I love existing with him.
And then Greg drops Winnie back home to us and Ford cuts her apples the right way, he braids Winnie’s hair and he holds her when she gets sick. I nearly forget about the accident. I let my guard down and allow myself to smile and every time Ford returns it, my heart skips a beat. I dare to hope for a future with Ford, like I’ve been imagining for years. In that future I see my brothers and Gregory Hale, so when one Sunday Erik rings me to suggest we meet, I agree. And Ford is wonderful.
As we make our way to the park, I can see that he is curious, so I tell him. “You know, sometimes I wonder if it was therapy that made my brothers realise how fucked up our parents were. Or if it just took meeting your dad when we got together.”
Clearly Ford doesn’t know what to do with that piece of information, so I add “They met him and collectively decided to be like him.”
Ford nods. “Either way, I’m glad you can count on them now.”
“You can, too. You’ll see.”
“Right,” Ford concedes.
Ford is wonderful, until he isn’t. I should have known that Ford was a ticking bomb just waiting to explode. And when he does explode, it hurts more than any accident. It hurts more than my parents’ never calling again, more than Daddy saying he’d rather have no son than a gay one.
“I’m just trying to be okay with the fact that I lost my best friend,” Ford says on Sunday night and I wish the Earth would swallow me whole. He doesn’t get it. After all this time, he still doesn’t see me. He still doesn’t give me a chance.
“You did not lose me, though. I’m right here,” I beg, but he doesn’t believe me.
Things change after that. Though, not for worse. For some reason, things change for the better.
The following week, Ford kisses me. He asks me about the adoption and he kisses me, he makes dinner and he kisses me. And he does a lot more than just kissing me.
I thought I got lucky the first time around. I got to have Ford for a while and now the universe was telling me enough, you have been happy enough. When he lost his memories, I thought I’d lost him for good. How was I ever going to get under him, on top of him? Turns out when two people are meant to be, nothing matters.
