Chapter 3

March 23rd||58° and pouring rain||Jace

As I throw the door to my apartment into the adjacent wall, Liam’s foot twitches: the trademark of a heavy sleeper whose restless feet betray him. I flap a hand around the perimeter of his slack face until I conclude it safe to snag the remote from the arm of the couch.

As soon as I click the power button...

“Hey, man, I was watching that!” His bleary brown eyes reveal his lie.

Upon reviving the screen’s brightness, my eyebrows rise. “The news? Really?”

“Uh, so what if I liked to be informed?” He says it without true commitment, knowing that he can’t convince anyone that he gives a s**t about the world. Liam isn’t quite self-centered. He’s… zoomed in. He can’t quite imagine the big picture while he’s busy focusing on those nearby.

“Right.” I toss the hunk of plastic at him. He attempts to catch it between his clumsy hands but instead fumbles it across the floor. As he swears and crawls to retrieve it, he glances at my running gear and the trail of water I left from the door.

“Running in the rain. As if running in good weather isn’t terrible enough.” There is only a miniscule pause in his phrase before he asks his usual, “Did Caleb come by while I was at school?”

I shrug. Our third roommate’s absence has become the norm. When I had just moved in, Caleb was always around, and I do mean always. He didn’t work, he didn’t leave the house. It was a wonder that he could even pay his part of the rent. Then, all of the sudden, he started disappearing for weeks at a time. Knowing Caleb, we should be concerned. But he scoffs at the mention of it.

“So have you sufficiently caught pneumonia?”

I take the few steps required to reach the kitchen to pour myself some water. “Not too bad. I actually saw somebody.”

The shhh of the tap running almost washes out Liam’s noncommittal “Oh?” He doesn’t exactly seem interested, but he stands nonetheless. Whether he approaches the kitchen to appear intent on the conversation or for the sole purpose of grabbing his bag of Cheetos, I can’t quite tell.

“A girl.” Although his interest spikes a bit, he doesn’t falter in reaching into the cupboard.

“You’re finally giving up your… wild goose chase?” His words are nothing short of a joke; his renowned puppy-dog smile, fortified by his ruffled hair and bleary eyes, curls onto his earlier sullen lips. Liam knows more about my current situation than anyone, and he’s familiar with the subject of my recurring dream.

I force a somber grimace"and he seems quite concerned"before a grin stretches to my ears. “I found her.”

“Dude! What’s her name?” He hollers, and I realize it’s the happiest I’ve seen him in weeks. My mouth lolls for a moment, and I refill the glass, before he groans. “You didn’t ask?”

“Well, no,” I reply between gulps. “No.” My glass meets the counter with a high clink. “It was too soon… Or something. It wasn’t the right time.”

“Right, of course you were taking timing into consideration. Romantics like you are the reason shitheads like me can’t get a girl.” His grin fades back to post-breakup depression. “Now you’ll never see her again.”

My chest falls. “Well…”

“Do I have to provide the there-are-plenty-of-fish-in-the-sea talk?” He tugs open a fresh bag of Cheetos. The artificial cheese wafts to my nose.

“There aren’t many fish that know who I am.” As far as I know, my memory only belongs to the girl at the park. She’s the only one I’ve ever recalled.

“Sure there are. You just don’t know them yet. That girl can’t be the only person you ever knew.” When I provide no response, Liam surveys me with a sad grimace before shuffling back to the TV. “There are more Cheetos in the cupboard, man. And I’m watching man movies. With explosions and s**t.”

“Nah, I’ll go shower. But thanks.” With full knowledge of Liam’s sad state of mind, I add, “Maybe later.” He gives an absentminded thumbs up, and I deem it safe to leave him be.

If bedrooms reflect the state of their owner’s mind, mine is as empty as always. Lacking luster. Void of memories. The usual. Even after three months, I can’t quite pay back Liam from borrowed rent money, let alone buy décor for my bare room. My job at a local restaurant pays well, but never enough. Unlike Liam, whose parents claimed him shortly after he lost his memory, I have no one to claim me, and no one to help pay bills, and definitely no one to help me figure out what part of me is missing.

I met Liam at my amnesia treatments"he liked to call them “Amnesiacs Anonymous” meetings"back when I still lived in the hospital. He suffered memory loss like mine, only less extreme. Liam couldn’t remember much of his past, only bits and pieces, due to a severe mugging. With each treatment session"something I can’t afford to attend any longer"he improves with insurmountable quality. He’s even starting to remember his family members and their birthdays by now.

But I remember nothing, absolutely nothing, and have no help whatsoever with recovering my past… Not unless I see the girl again.

She was always a symbol, a thing. She was my memory. She was everything I once knew. She was an anomaly in my daily, blank life.

I always had an inkling that she was a real person, but it was more of a glimmer of hope than a concrete idea. But now that I know she’s real, she’s something to have. No longer is she an imagined metaphor, but she is a connection to my past. I know her, I have to.

And she has to know me. Because… Well, somebody has to.

Tonight I hope that I’ll dream, for my only dream features her. Her hair, her smile, her freckles, her everything. I haven’t dreamt it in over a week now, and I’m beginning to miss the way the sun looks bouncing off her imperfect smile.

But, no matter how I will it to come, the dream doesn’t bless me tonight.

Author's Note

Too much exposition...?