“Good call,” Rita said. “When Thea opens her eyes tomorrow morning, the first person she should see is you.”
My chest tightened. “Goddammit, Rita.”
“I know,” she said, “but I’m just so happy. For both of you.”
“Whatever happens,” Alonzo said, “we’re here for you. And her.”
“Jesus, you too?” I said with a laugh choked with tears.
Alonzo blinked hard, laughing, before he slapped me on the back. “Christ, that’s enough out of us. Go to your girl.”
Thea stood at her easel, earbuds in, her jeans and bright yellow top smattered with paint despite the smock covering them. Hips swaying side to side, she hummed as she recreated a view of New York City from a high window; the lights strewn across the darkened cityscape like stars.
The view from our hotel room at the ArtHouse.
I moved close so Thea could see me from her peripheral vision.
“Jimmy…” She had enough time to smile and pull the earbuds from her ears before the absence seizure hit. I stood still until it passed, then she threw her arms around me.
“You’re here,” she said into my neck. “How long has it been?”
“Eighteen months,” I said.
The script was altered slightly. Her prison had undergone slight improvements. As before, Thea remembered there’d been an accident, but now her parents’ death was connected to the event. She knew they were gone and never slipped and asked when they were coming. She knew her sister lived far away and visited sometimes. She remembered Rita. She stopped saying she was an Egyptologist or etymologist. And she wasn’t freaked out or confused about the tattoo on her arm. Rita had told me it somehow kept Thea grounded from being overwhelmed with sudden grief. That looking at it brought her relief. I kept mine hidden from Thea after that, so she wouldn’t be confused and lose that peace.
The best gift of all was that I didn’t need to wear a nametag or re-introduce myself. She remembered me. She remembered she loved me.
But How long has it been? stayed, and answering sixteen… seventeen… eighteen months, hurt like hell.
“Are the doctors working on my case?” she asked.
“They are,” I said, and it was the truth. “In fact, they’re going to try again.”
She frowned. “Again?”
Eighteen months and I still made dumb mistakes. The word again had no meaning to Thea.
“They’re going to perform a procedure on you,” I said. “And give you some medicine to make you better.”
I hated speaking to her like she was a child, but once, when a reset hit, I told her she wasn’t coming awake for the first time, but she’d been awake and aware all her life. It spun her into a loop of panic and hysterics. Her amnesia was like staring into a hall of mirrors, her reflection multiplying itself by infinity with no way out, and I’d stupidly tried to tell her the door was right in front of her.
I never tried to explain it again.
But Dr. Milton’s procedure was the door out, and I never stopped telling Thea about it. Again and again, every day—every five minutes—for the last two weeks. Since Milton called Dr. Chen with the news.
“It’ll make me better?” she asked.
“Yeah, baby, it will.”
It has to.
She hugged me tight, as happy to hear it as she was every other time. She didn’t need to know the details about the procedure, only that it was coming. Thea was still in there, and she knew, down deep, that “being better” meant freedom.
“When is this procedure?” she asked. “Soon?”
When, soon, and tomorrow morning were all tricky words that had no real meaning for her either, but I told her the truth. “Tomorrow morning.”
“Should I be scared?”
“No,” I said. Leave that to me. “Everything’s going to work out how it should.”
Thea smiled and kissed me again. A peck on the lips was all I let her do. It didn’t feel right to kiss her deeply. If a reset hit in the middle, she’d be terrified. I never wanted our kissing to be tainted by fear.
“I love this,” I said, nodding at her painting. “It’s fucking incredible.”
“Thanks. I’ve never been to New York City, so I’m not sure where this image is coming from. But it’s with me. Always. I’ve probably seen pictures of it.”
I smiled. “Probably.”
“Is Delia coming?”
“Not today,” I said. “But she’ll be here soon. You want to get some fresh air?”
Rita brought Thea her winter coat—a colorful wool coat Thea said was “fuchsia.” A reset hit. She suffered an absence seizure, and then she threw her arms around my neck.
“Jimmy, you’re here. How long has it been?”
We started over from the top. The time, the questions, until we arrived back to where we left off.
“Want to go for a walk?” I asked.
“I’d love to.”
She linked her arm in mine and we strolled along the grounds, having our same conversation, over and over, every five minutes. I told her again the doctors were going to help her, and she was radiant under the heavy, gray sky. Her cheeks turned pink with cold and snowflakes drifted into her hair as the first snow of the season began.
“It’s so beautiful,” Thea said, holding her hand out to catch the flakes.
I looked down at her. “So beautiful.”
My heart ached at the déjà vu—Thea looked like this at last year’s first snow. She caught the flakes on her fingers and said how beautiful it was.
She’s still smiling. Despite day after day of that prison, she has hope. She always has.
“I love you,” I said, pulling her to me.
“I love you too. Jimmy with the kind eyes.”
She rested her cheek on my shoulder and watched the snow come down.
“The doctors are going to give you a procedure, Thea,” I said, my cheek against her hair. “They think it’s going to make you better.”
Excitement rippled through her. “Will it?”
I closed my eyes. “I hope so, baby.”
She was quiet for a moment, then asked, “Will you be there?”
I lifted my head. She’d never asked me that before. “Yes. When you wake up, I’ll be right there. I promise.”
She cocked her head at me, a funny smile on her lips.
“What’s that look for?” I asked, brushing a lock of hair from her cheek.
“I’ve heard you say that before. That you promise,” she said. “I remember.”
I stared. “You do?”
She nodded, her eyes impossibly blue, and her smile serene. “It was in a dream.”
“Oh.” My shoulders fell. A dream. Not memory.
But for Thea—trapped in the amnesia—a dream was the only memory she had.
She brushed her fingertips over my chin. “The best dream I ever had. You and I were together, and we were happy.”
I smiled and held her close. “We were,” I murmured into her hair. “We are.”
No matter what happens tomorrow, we were happy.
We had the time of our lives.