I look at the clock hanging on the wall across from my bed. The numbers are a little fuzzy, but I manage to calculate that I still have about fifteen minutes of forgetfulness. I giggle. Then, I stop, because why am I giggling?
“Hey. You’re awake.”
I look over and blink until Josh comes into focus. I feel a little loopy and sort of fuzzy, like I’m still coming out of a really long, really deep sleep.
He’s sitting in a chair next to me, his elbows propped on his knees. I blink again. But Josh stays a blur of messy hair, strong shoulders, and chiseled jaw.
Mmm Josh.
“Do you know how good looking you are?” I ask, which isn’t actually what I meant to say at all. “You’re like a fairytale princess.”
“Uh…” He clears his throat and looks around the small curtained area. “Dr. Ingraham said you might need a few minutes before the amnesiac wears off.”
“I’m fine. It’s worn off,” I say, feeling irritated. “Did he vacuum up all the Easter eggs?”
Josh rubs at his chin and gives me a look full of skepticism. “He said he got six.”
Then I remember what Josh was supposed to be doing while I was under anesthetic. “Did you orgasm?”
He lifts his eyebrows, and when he goes fuzzy again a little part of my mind realizes that I’m still loopy from the amnesiac, that I probably won’t remember any of this.
“We’re all good,” he finally says.
I smile at him and want to tell him thank you, but instead what comes out is, “I probably love you.”
Josh stiffens and his face closes off. He looks away from me, up at the clock. His side profile is serious and almost…unhappy. There’s nothing of the joking, relaxed, life’s-a-lark Josh in him.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
Finally, he looks back at me, his expression upset. He gently runs his finger down the side of my face. “Gemma, let me know when it’s not prob—”
“I never thought I could love a houseplant.” I smile up at him. I used to think of him as a houseplant, always there but never noticed. I don’t think of him like that anymore. “Houseplants are so nice.”
She said, “I never thought I could love a houseplant.”
He stops talking and stares at me, a stunned expression on his face. Then he takes what looks like an incredibly painful swallow.
I stare at the way the fluorescent light shines down on his skin. There are little sparks of light that catch and reflect off the strands of his dark hair. His eyelashes are long and darker than his hair, and for a second I’m fascinated by how long they are. Unfairly long.
He’s taken his finger away from my face and I turn my head into the pillow. He’s going in and out of focus again. He’s wearing a T-shirt today with a character on it that looks familiar, I think it’s from one of his drawings. Maybe it’s one of his own characters. I smile at the slashes of color and look back up at Josh.
He’s staring at the far wall and it almost looks like he’s berating himself for something stupid he’s done. Or did.
“What did you do?” I ask.
He shakes his head and then looks down at me. “What?”
I stare at him. And the way he looks at me makes my chest ache. Makes it hurt so much. I try to think back to the last thing we were talking about. It was just a few seconds, maybe minutes ago, something about houseplants? I try to grasp onto it, but it falls away from me like water running through open hands. I can’t remember.
There’s only flashes, like skewed reflections in a mirror of what was.
I lick my lips and try to blink myself back into reality. I push myself up onto my elbows and glance at the clock. It’s been thirty minutes since the retrieval. I feel fine. I feel good.
Then, I remember, the retrieval.
“Did Dr. Ingraham say he got any eggs?”
Maybe that’s why he looks so upset, maybe none of the eggs were good quality.
Josh frowns. “What?”
“Did he get any eggs?”
Josh gives me a careful look. “We already talked about this. Remember?”
I shake my head, and am rewarded with a bit of dizziness. “No. Um.” I try to think back and just get strands and flashes of haziness. “Not really. Did it go okay?”
“You don’t remember?” he asks, he gives me a searching look.
I frown at him, mostly because it’s really frustrating to not be able to grasp ahold of the conversation we just had. I wrinkle my brow and try really hard. “Maybe…we talked about princesses? And houseplants?” Then I shake my head. “No. That’s too weird.”