She smiles at me awkwardly. “It’s spaghetti bolognese, and I know that sounds a little boring, but I made the sauce myself and it’s going to be amazing.”
I nod, my heart racing as I try my hardest not to stare at her. I wish I could spend more evenings at home with her, but my schedule is jam-packed. I didn’t use to mind it, because I never used to have anyone to come home too, but it’s different now. Somehow, I’m going to have to find a way to work a little less. I want more of this.
I take a seat by the kitchen island and watch her as she cooks, humming a tune I don’t recognize. This was part of our fantasies. We’d work, and then we’d come home and cook dinner together. It’s the simple things in life we wanted most. Does a small part of her remember?
“So, what is this all about?” I ask, curious. “Not that there needs to be a reason for us to have dinner together. I was just curious.”
Alanna puts the knife down and looks up at me, her expression sincere. “I genuinely just wanted to thank you. It’s hard for me to explain, but a dream like the one I had last night can truly ruin my entire week. Often I’ll find myself trying so hard to remember what I dreamed of that I get the worst headaches, and it makes me unable to focus on anything else in life. But somehow, it was different today. Instead of feeling heartbroken and empty, I felt oddly… complete. Usually, it’s almost like there’s a huge chunk of me missing, and it’s not just about my memories. But I didn’t feel that way this morning.”
I smile at her, wishing I could just come clean and tell her everything. “Hey, maybe it’s because I’m the man of your dreams? Are you having wet dreams about me, Alanna?”
She grins at me and picks her knife back up. “To be fair,” she says. “The only wetness you can draw out of me is tears. I guess that explains why I woke up crying, huh?”
My lips fall open, and I point a finger at her. “Alanna, I feel like I need to defend my honor here. If you weren’t holding a knife, I’d walk over there, spread your legs right on top of this kitchen counter, and show you just how wet you can get for me.”
Her eyes darken, but then confusion flickers through them. She puts the knife down and rubs her temples, her eyes falling closed. “Defend your honor?” she whispers.
I freeze. That’s an inside joke of ours and I said it without thinking. I didn’t think it’d trigger a memory. I walk around the kitchen island and wrap my arm around her waist. “Hey,” I whisper. “What’s wrong?”
She drops her head to my chest and inhales deeply. “It’s nothing,” she whispers. “It’s just… sometimes random words make my head hurt. Almost like a part of me wants to remember, but a larger part of me refuses to.” She pulls away and looks at me. “Sorry, Silas. It really is nothing.” She takes a step away from me, and I reluctantly let her go. “Come on, the food is pretty much done, anyway. I’ve already set the dining table.”
She’s quiet as she plates our food, and I help her carry it all to the dining room, both of us silent. She’s lost in thought now, and I can’t help but wonder if she remembered something. I never even realized that it physically hurts her to recall anything about us at all, and it fills me with guilt.
Alanna is absentminded as she takes a bite, and I’m worried. “Are you sure you’re okay?” I ask.
She nods and smiles at me sweetly. “Yeah. This happens every once in a while, but it’s all fruitless. I never remember anything, no matter how hard I try. For a really long time, I was so obsessed with my past that I forgot to live in the present, and I no longer want to do that. It isn’t easy, having so very few memories, but it is what it is. I guess that’s why it was so hard for me to find out that Ryan had been using me. I know you don’t like hearing about him, but he’s the only one I really have memories with, so finding out he used me just hit me so hard. I spent so long chasing my memories, and the moment I decided to stop doing that, I placed my trust in the wrong person. It left me feeling scared to trust anyone, to trust myself. After all, I trusted the wrong person once and I never even realized it, so what if it happens again?”
I look into her eyes, unsure how to reassure her. Without her memories, she doesn’t have her previous life experience to fall back on, and that’s what shapes our decision making. I know she’s instinctively still making the right choices, but it must be hard not being able to logically think through why she does things or why she feels a certain way, especially for an over thinker like Alanna.