Page 74 of Forgotten
2024 - Ashford
On Sunday night Ash doesn’t come to bed and it makes me want to cry. I spend hours in the dark, thinking about the day in the park, regretting every word.
On Monday, things between Ash and I are tense. After breakfast Ash takes Winnie with him and he sits her on his knees while he types at his laptop. It almost feels like a kidnapping, if Winnie wasn’t beaming at the idea of watching words appear and disappear from the screen. She bumps her fists on the desk and Ash plays with her hair while he writes.
Feeling like I’m intruding, I leave them alone and go message Vicky instead.
(Me) So what’s my current job?
(Vicky) Are you and Ashley fighting?
(Me) …
(Vicky) Thought so. What are you being stubborn about now?
When I don’t reply, Vicky does it for me.
(Vicky) Still scared you won’t get your memories back and will have to learn how to love them from zero?
(Vicky) Idiot.
(Vicky) It’s been what, months? If you didn’t want this, you’d have already left. Only, you can’t leave him. You’ve loved him forever.
I consider throwing my phone across the room. Is anyone ever going to be on my side? Everyone is so convinced I love Ash, I can’t live without Ash. And I know that I do, I know that I can’t. I had to live without Ash for years while he was dating Jonathan. It was horrible, and I didn’t thrive.
But I survived.
No, the problem is not that. I start typing a response, but Vicky is locked in her monologue.
(Vicky) You can’t ignore me, Ashford. Blink if I’m right.
(Me) I have therapy later, I don’t need another session.
(Vicky) But I am so much better than therapy.
For a while, no new message. I’m about to give up, when Vicky texts again.
(Vicky) Event manager at some music company. You left the Opera North in 2022 and had a breakdown. Then, as it usually happens, everything worked out for the best. Work is work, stop overthinking. It doesn’t really matter. You hated the viola anyway.
(Vicky) Now leave me alone. I’ll be in England over Christmas. Get ready for the real thing.
(Vicky) And call your mother, fuck’s sake.
After Vicky has gone offline, I lay on the orange couch, squeezing one of the black pillows to me. Event manager at some music company. What does it mean? How, where, why? I consider who I could ask, but the mere thought is exhausting. Maybe Vicky is right. Maybe I’m worrying too much. Work is work. I will figure it out when I go back, eventually. I’ll remember about it, eventually.
In the distance I can hear Ash reciting entire paragraphs of his doctorate to Winnie, the polished structures sounding just right out of his lips. Winnie laughs with him, offering no constructive feedback, and I doze off listening to them discussing literature in their own perfect way.
My daughter, Ash said in the hospital. It seems like an eternity ago.
I think of Winnie, singing songs with me and listening to Ash’s essay arguments. The way she looks nothing like but fits perfectly in our little family. Loving her from zero is not an option, I already love her way more than that.
And loving Ash from zero? Impossible, I already love him to infinity. He’s the only person I’ve ever wanted this much, and I need to come to terms with the fact that at some point, I decided being with him was wortheverything. Somewhere in my brain, that version of me is still there. I must get it back.
In the afternoon I log in for a session with Dr. Bakari, and Vicky’s advice makes so much sense that I cannot sitstill.
I cut to the chase. “If I never remember, if my memories never come back. I need help. Please help me understand how I can keep loving them and be what they need.”
“It’s good to see you, Ford. I see you have been thinking these past weeks.”
