“I wanted to ask you something.” I smile at him bashfully. “About the song you played last night…” He looks at me and I see his cheek turn a bright shade of red.
“Did you like it?” He grips my waist tighter, and I bite my lip as I feel him come alive under me.
“Yes,” I tell him flirtatiously. “But what made you pick that song?” I ask him, as I feel the sheet being pulled down from my body. My breathing picks up.
“What do you mean?” His eyes glide over me, and I fight myself to not cover my body and allow him to see me, to let him know that I know I’m his.
“It’s one of my favorite songs. I played it all the time right before we got married,” I am proud of myself that I used the word we and not Cal. He flinches though, and the playful, lustful gaze he had is lost and has now turned serious.
“I know,” his face scrunches up as if he’s in deep thought.
“You know?”
“I remember,” he tells me quietly and my heart stumbles over itself.
“You remember?”
“It’s strange because I didn’t have a memory or a flashback. I just sort of knew,” he explains, seemingly confused himself. He scratches his head and I sit back on the bed.
“That’s great,” I tell him happily. For him to remember that—it’s small but it’s something—and for him to remember without actually trying is huge to me.
“Yeah,” he agrees but he doesn’t look too excited. His brow is furrowed and he seems like he’s in deep thought. I take his hand.
“It’s a good thing, Chris,” I take his face in my hands, and he smiles softly at me.
“Yeah,” he says before kissing me, but the energy that was just here before, how easy it was, is now different. If Chris was removing bricks off of his chest, I just set one back on it.
Chapter 28
Chris
“Solo today?” Helen says as she walks into the office. Lauren has agreed to come to some sessions with me, and we agreed that some sessions I’ll come alone. Helen seems to be in a good mood today. I wish I was in a better mood today. Yesterday was one of the best days I’ve had in a long time. Finding out that I have the means and the resources to do something good and being able to buy Lauren and Caylen things without worrying about the price are some of the best feelings ever.
I never experienced that before. I would have never considered myself poor growing up— my parents have had the farm since before I was born, and we always had two cars and a nice home—but my parents raised me to be responsible with money because after the necessities there wasn’t a lot to splurge on, and even less left to really make a difference in the world with. But now that seems possible. With this money, I can now breathe and not think about how bad things have been, or about the things I haven’t had a chance to do because now I have a chance to do more than I ever imagined. Lauren looked so beautiful when I woke her up last night. I fought with myself whether to let her sleep or not, but I wanted to share how I was feeling with her, to show her that I’m not the sad mopey one all the time. Seeing the way she looked at me, not them but me, how she moaned my name and lay in my arms—I wanted to just enjoy the time with my wife. And even this morning, watching her sleep and talking to her about what the future could hold felt great, but then she brought up that song.
“You seem to be in deep thought—how about you share?” She grins at me like a concerned old friend and I let out a deep frustrated breath. It’s our fourth session together and I feel more comfortable with her, but sometimes it feels like pulling teeth to open up to her. Opening up means getting answers and I need those, especially with the opportunity I have to really make things right. With all of the time that’s been taken away from me, it would all be worth it if I’m able to really do something good. It would make up for never being able to get my teaching license, never traveling, or following through on a decision I made.
“I remembered something,” I tell her and she sits straighter in her chair.
“It was a song that Lauren says is one of her favorites,” I explain. She picks up her pen and writes something on her notepad.
“I played it last night for her, and this morning she said that it was her favorite song. She used to play it all the time before she married Cal,” I tell her. She arches an eyebrow at me.
“You mean before she married you,” she corrects me, and I shrug.
“You’ve had memories before.”
“Yeah but they used to be like flashbacks, and this wasn’t like that. I just sort of knew… I guess.” She nods and writes something on her Ipad.
“Is that a good thing?” I ask her, and she looks up at me with a soft smile.
“Yes, any memory that comes to you is a good thing, that it didn’t come as what you would call a flashback isn’t anything to be concerned about. If anything I would say that it shows that it was shared.” She says jovially and I look at her confused.
“What do you mean?”
“It means that sometimes you can snatch memories and other times they are given to you by another side of yourself,” she explains.
“You mean Cal or Collin?”
“Yes exactly. How did you feel about what you were doing?” She sits in her chair and waits for me to respond.
“I felt great. I always feel good when I’m playing my guitar, but why would they share a memory with me?”
“It could be for any number of reasons, but sharing thoughts and memories is good. I couldn’t say for sure until I speak to them, but Collin has expressed being open to sharing with you,” she says casually. I feel myself frown. Isn’t he just the greatest?
“Chris, how do you feel about Collin?”
“I don’t know the guy. He is just another hurdle to get over,” I tell her with a shrug.
“Have you started on your letters to them?” she asks, and I realize I have completely forgotten about the letters.
“I’ve had a lot going on with getting settled into work, and my mom is here and spending time with Caylen and Lauren.”
“Thirty minutes out of your day shouldn’t be much,” she tells me. I rest my weight on my elbows. I don’t want to write a letter to them—it seems stupid and ridiculous but what do I know? I’m more lost in this than anyone else.
“I’ll start tonight,” I promise her and she looks pleased.
“Have you heard them?” she asks and I look at her confused. “Have you heard either of them try and speak to you?” It’s not too often that a person refers to you hearing voices as normal.
“I don’t think so.”
“Why don’t you think so?” She’s starting to ask too many questions and I feel myself getting impatient and antsy in my seat, so I stretch my legs out in front of me making the space suddenly seem smaller.
“I used to hear Cal’s.” I tell her and her expression remains blank. “His was more like taunting though. Never anything constructive.” She writes on her Ipad, but keeps her eyes on me. “After I came back, I heard thoughts that didn’t seem like they were mine, but I am pretty sure they weren’t Cal’s either.”