Say You'll Remember Me(96)

DID YOU SEE the post?” I grinned.

“I did,” Xavier said. “He’s got two hundred applications.”

I did a little jumpy thing in the living room.

In addition to the freelancing I did in my spare time, I’d been writing all the animal bios for the rescue Xavier volunteered at for the last three months. About every third or fourth one went viral.

This week was a bio for a tabby named Apple Bottom Jeans—my name choice. I called him the guy your mom always warned you about: toxic, controlling, unemployed, and watching you at 3:00 a.m. with night vision. Comes with boots with the fur.

“The traffic crashed the website,” he said.

I gasped. “Really?”

“Really.”

“I don’t know if I should be proud or feel bad for the IT guy.”

He chuckled. “You’re doing for animal rescue what you did for mustard. You should be proud. Even if you are a menace to the server.”

I smiled. I was having so much fun. I loved bending the internet to my will, it was my favorite pastime.

Things were good. I felt fulfilled. More than I thought I would. And for the first time in a long time, I was me again. The me I remembered.

I started doing Mom’s makeup again. Tristan went back to dyeing her hair. I painted her nails and dressed her in pretty tops. I took a tip from Xavier and got her headphones so she could listen to music. She loved music. I made her playlists of all the songs on the tapes in the Dart and she listened for hours. It calmed her down.

I found ways to put color in her gray world again. I found ways to put it in mine too. Even if the color wasn’t Xavier.

I hadn’t seen him in three months, since the trip we spent in the hospital. And we had no plans to be alone in a room together any time soon.

I missed him terribly. I always did.

It was our one-year anniversary today. Well, one year since we met. We counted it though because we both agreed it was over for both of us the second I called him an asshole.

“I wish I could see you today,” I said, my smile fading a little at the edges.

“Soon.”

“There’s a four-day weekend coming up in a few weeks and Jeneva said she can watch Mom for me. I think I’ll try and get tickets then,” I said.

“Okay. You’re getting flowers later.”

I perked up again. “Am I? You’re getting special pictures later.”

“Am I?” he said, a smile in his voice. “I like those.”

I smiled down at the carpet.

“Do you remember the first time you saw me?” I asked.

“Of course. I remember every single thing about it.”

“Me too,” I said. “I remember when you came into the room—it felt like a shift in the air pressure. You had on dark blue scrubs and your hair was sort of messy. No beard. You looked so serious. You saw the kitten in my shirt and you had absolutely zero reaction to it, just a complete mask.”

“Oh, I reacted to it,” he said. “My heart was pounding, I was nervous. I thought you were so beautiful, and it made me self-conscious.”

“What if I hadn’t come back into the clinic?” I asked. “What if I’d just moved to California and you never saw me again?”

“I would have thought about you for the rest of my life. Even after only a few minutes. You would have haunted me forever. You’re not someone you forget.”

I smiled softly.

“I have something else for you,” he said. “I made you an anniversary playlist.”

“Awwww, you did?”

“Can you go out in the yard?” he asked. “Put your headphones in? Listen to it?”

I glanced at Mom on the sofa. “Sure. I’ll take Mom outside. We’re due for a little sunshine before dinner anyway,” I said.

“Okay. I have to get going. I love you,” he said.

“I love you.”

He sent me the link and then hung up.

He did the playlist thing a lot. We’d learned to be creative. There were ways we could connect, even if they weren’t in person like I preferred. We watched shows together at the same time, we video called. He actually had time for that now that he wasn’t working a thousand hours a week.

I did the math. I got to see him about twenty days a year.

I’d been to summer camps longer than that.

It was fine. It wasn’t what I really wanted. It never would be. But it was enough because at least it was something.

I was getting Mom’s shoes on when my sister came home.

“Oh hey, I was just about to text you,” she said, hanging her purse on the hook by the door. “Dad’s bringing Italian for dinner. Tristan wants to know what wine you want him to bring up.”

“Hmmm. Maybe a red blend?”

“Okay. Maybe I’ll tell him to pick two. Oh, and Dad’s going out tomorrow, just so you know,” she said, pulling off her boots. “Tristan said he’d take Mom.”

I smiled to myself.

My brother had really stepped up. They all had, but especially him. The come-to-Jesus moment did what I’d hoped it would. He didn’t give Dad any more shit. We’d moved Mom into Grandma’s old room so Dad could go to sleep before she did. Tristan was third shift now. He covered Mom from after dinner to bedtime seven days a week. Jeneva and Dad did weekends and I got the two days off.