Page 56 of Forgotten
“One truth. I wish I only liked girls, too.”
The storm turns into a gentle patter as people settle down around us. The DJ has started playing a soft tune and people have started dancing, swaying in unison in an attempt to warm up.
I reach for Ford’s hand and tap one finger on his wrist. He turns it gently, interlacing our fingers. There’s many things I could say to make him feel like he’s loved, like he’s the same Ford he’s always been. I could tell him I love him no matter who he loves, I could tell him he’ll always be Ashford Hale, my best friend. Until we die.
In the end, I don’t need to tell him anything. I don’t need to remind him who he is. I hold his hand as someone starts yelling from inside the house.
“Ice cream? Ice cream everyone!”
I watch as a group starts making rounds handing out ice creams. When they reach us with a pile of open boxes, Ford lets go of my hand and checks the options. Pursing his lips, Ford considers what the best flavour would be.
“No, thank you,” I decline, while Ford picks a chocolate ice cream cone.
Slowly he unwraps it and he starts licking around it, while I pretend I’m not looking.
“Will you want to experiment with this guy at some point?” I ask as casually as I can.
“Honestly I don’t know. I’ve just been thinking about it. Like, take this ice cream. I know I like chocolate, so it’s a safe choice. But what if I had picked cherry? I don’t usually like the flavour in ice cream, it’s too prickly or whatever. I would never choose it. Or strawberry. I love strawberries but I never eat strawberry flavoured stuff, it’s too artificial. Too fake. So I go with what I know, chocolate. What if I taste the right strawberry, the right cherry, and I end up loving it? The ice cream, I mean.”
I smile, thinking of cherries and strawberries, and thinking all the thoughts I’m not supposed to think around Ford. Biting the inside of my cheek, I keep my mouth shut and let him speak.
“I’m just saying. Just because I love chocolate, doesn’t mean it’s the only thing for me.”
“But you always pick chocolate,” I tell him. And I tell myself that Ford loves girls, he’s always loved girls. He may like boys too, but he will never like me.
Ford scoots closer to me then, as the rain picks up again. The wind is getting colder now, and it slams us against the wall of the house.
“I pick chocolate because you love it, too,” Ford says, licking his cone and handing it to me to do the same.
Ignoring the lump in my throat, I lean in and give the cone one lick. Then, I look up.
“Want a reminder how it feels to kiss a boy?”
Ford doesn’t even blink.
“I swear to God, if you push your whole tongue in my mouth.”
“Won’t. Promise.”
But as I close the distance between us, I know this promise is one I won’t be able to keep.
Chapter 19
2024 - Ashford
The days after my check-up and my chat with Vicky, it’s much of the same sweet routine. Ash, Winnie and I eat breakfast together around the same little round table, and on Tuesday I cheer for Winnie when Ash shows her how to hold a spoon and eat her own yoghurt.
We play blocks on the carpet in the living-room, then we play dolls and finally, Winnie requests Ash reads a book. And then another one. Every afternoon we take a nap on the big couch together, Ash’s head on my lap and Winnie’s small body curled on his other side. I don’t sleep, scared of missing even a single second of this new reality and waking up with no memories of it.
The arm in my brace hurts with the weather changing from sunny to rainy to sunny again, but I don’tmind. There’s something tugging at my chest, something that pulls me towards the little girl, and towards Ash.
After our nap Ash usually writes his PhD and I exercise while Winnie imitates my movements.
On Wednesday I meet Dr. Bakari and tell him about the way Ashley looks at me, the way he looks at Winnie. My therapist reminds me to be kind and take it easy and if I hear this from one more person, I will not be held responsible for my actions. Said actions being bursting into tears and blaming the universe for taking my memories, the memories of the most beautiful things in my life.
Every evening, we get ready for bed and it’s a messy yet effective routine. I’m in charge of bathing Winnie and after, Ash is in charge of choosing the bedtime story. I get to stare at him and study all the details that make him a great father. The way his tall form is curved to fit on the floor beside Winnie’s bed, the way he reassures her in his softest voice that everything’s good, everything’s alright.
I’m fascinated by how easily I fit in with Ash and Winnie, even with no recollection of them. Every detail I learn makes sense, and at the end of each day, I review every new piece of information, treasuring them and hoping with my entire soul that I get to live another day to remember them.
