"Yeah, well, I don't want to be."
"Charlie says quit the football team," I tell him.
"Maybe I will," he says. With that, he swings open his bedroom door. I can hear him rushing down the stairs two at a time. I wait a moment to see what he's up to, and then shortly thereafter, he's running back up the stairs. His door swings back open and he smiles. "I just told my father I quit the football team," he says proudly.
"What did he say?"
He shrugs. "I don't know. I must be scared of him, because I ran back upstairs as soon as I told him." He winks at me. "And what are you quitting, Charlize?"
"My dad." My answer comes easy. "Charlie needs to walk away from things that stunt her emotional growth."
Silas stops what he's doing to look at me. It's a weird look. One I'm not familiar with.
"What?" I suddenly feel defensive.
He shakes his head. "Nothing. It was a good thought, that's all."
I hug my knees and stare at the carpet. Why was it that when he complimented me my entire body went into overdrive? Surely his opinions couldn't matter that much to Charlie. To me. Surely I would remember if they did. Whose opinions were really supposed to matter in life, anyway? Your parents? Mine were screwed up. Your boyfriend's? If you weren't dating a saint like Silas Nash, that could go very wrong. I think about what I would tell Janette if she were asking this question.
"Trust your gut," I say out loud.
"What are you talking about?" Silas asks. He's digging around in a box he found in his closet, but he leans back on his haunches to look at me.
"Trust your gut. Not your heart, because it's a people pleaser, and not your brain, because it relies too heavily on logic."
He nods slowly, never taking his eyes off of me. "Charlize, it's really sexy when you get deep and say stuff like that. So unless you want to play another round of Silas Says, you might want to lay off the deep thinking."
I put down the t-shirt and stare at him. I think about today. I think about our kiss and how I would be a liar if I said I wasn't hoping he would kiss me like that again tonight. This time in private, without a dozen eyes on us. I reach down and tug at a piece of the carpet. I can feel my face grow warm.
"What if I do want to play another round of Silas says?" I ask.
"Charlie..." he starts, almost as if my name is a warning.
"What would Silas say?"
He stands up and so do I. I watch him run a hand across the back of his neck, my heart pounding like it's trying to break free and run out of the room before Silas can get to it.
"Are you sure you want to play?" he asks, raking over me with his eyes.
I nod. Because why not? According to our letters, it won't be the first time we've done this. And chances are, we probably won't even remember it tomorrow. "I'm positive," I say, attempting to come off way more confident than I feel right now. "It's my favorite thing to do."
He suddenly looks firm, more planted in his own skin. It's thrilling to watch.
"Silas says...take off your shirt."
I raise my eyebrows, but do as I'm told, lifting the hem of my shirt over my head. I hear his intake of breath, but I can't seem to meet his eyes. The strap of my bra slips down my shoulder.
"Silas says...lower the other bra strap."
My hand shakes a little as I do. He takes a slow step toward me, staring down to where my arm is still crossed over my chest. His eyes flicker up to mine. His mouth turns up at the corner. He thinks I'm about to quit playing this game. I can tell.
"Silas says...open the clasp."
It's a front clasp. I keep my eyes locked with his as I unlatch it. His Adam's apple bobs as I shrug off my bra and hold it on the tip of my finger. The cold air and his eyes make me want to turn away. His gaze follows my bra as it falls to the floor. When he makes eye contact with me again, he's smiling. But he's not. I don't know he does that--looks so happy and so serious at the same time.
"Silas says come here."
I'm not able to turn away when he looks at me like that. I walk toward him, and when I'm near enough, he reaches for me. He puts his hand behind my head and threads his fingers through my hair.
"Silas says--"
"Shut up, Silas," I interrupt. "Just kiss me."
His head dips and he catches my lips in a deep kiss that tilts my head up to meet him. He presses his mouth against mine in a soft kiss, once, twice, three times before parting my lips with his tongue. Kissing Silas feels rhythmic, like we've had more than just this afternoon to figure it out. His hand tightly gripping my hair at the scalp makes me weak in the knees. I am out of breath and my eyes are glazed.
Do I trust him?
I trust him.
"Charlie says take your shirt off," I say against his mouth.
"This game is called Silas says."
I run my hands up the warm flesh of his stomach. "Not anymore."
"Charlie Baby," I whisper, sliding an arm over her. I press my lips against the curve of her shoulder. She rustles, then pulls the covers over her head. "Charlie, it's time to wake up."
She rolls over to face me but stays under the blanket. I lift it over my head until we're both covered. She opens her eyes and frowns. "You smell good," she says. "No fair."
"I took a shower."
"And brushed your teeth?"
I nod, and her brow furrows.
"That's not fair. I want to brush my teeth."
I lift the covers from her head and she puts a hand over her eyes and groans. "Then hurry up and brush your teeth so you can come back and kiss me."
She crawls out of the bed and makes her way to the bathroom. I hear the sink begin to run, but that's quickly drowned out by the noises that come from downstairs. Pots and pans clanking together, cabinet doors slamming. It sounds like someone is cleaning. I look at the clock and it's almost 9:00 a.m.
Two more hours.
My bathroom door opens and Charlie runs across the room and hops on the bed, quickly pulling the covers over herself. "It's cold out there," she says, her lips quivering. I pull her to me and press my mouth to hers. "Better," she mumbles.
And this is what we do while I try my best to lose track of time. We make out.
"Silas," she whispers as I'm working my way up her neck. "What time is it?"
I reach over to the nightstand and look at my phone. "Nine fifteen."
She sighs, and I know exactly what she's thinking. I'm thinking it too.
"I don't want to forget this part," she says, looking at me through eyes that look like two broken hearts.
"Me neither," I whisper.
She kisses me again, softly. I can feel her heart racing through her chest, and I know it isn't because we're kissing under my covers. It's because she's scared. And I wish I could make it to where she isn't scared anymore, but I can't. I just pull her to me and hold her. I would hold her here forever, but I know there are things we need to be doing right now.
"We can hope for the best, but I think we should prepare for the worst," I tell her.
She nods against my chest. "I know. Five more minutes, okay? Let's just stay under the blanket for five more minutes and pretend we're in love like we used to be."
I sigh. "Pretending isn't necessary for me at this point, Charlie."
She grins and presses her lips to my chest.
I give her fifteen minutes. Five isn't enough.
When our time is up, I crawl out of bed and pull her up. "We need to eat breakfast. That way if 11:00 a.m. hits and we freak out again, it'll be a few hours before we have to worry about food."
We get dressed and head downstairs. Ezra looks like she's cleaning up breakfast when we walk into the kitchen. She sees Charlie rubbing sleep out of her eyes and she raises an eyebrow in my direction. She thinks I'm pushing my luck having Charlie in this house.
"Don't worry, Ezra. Dad says I'm allowed to love her now." Ezra returns my smile.
"You two hungry?" she asks.
I nod. "Yeah, but we can make ou
r own food."
Ezra waves a hand in the air. "Nonsense," she says. "I'll make your favorite."
"Thanks, Ezra," Charlie says with a smile. A mild look of surprise passes over Ezra's face before she walks to the pantry.
"My god," Charlie says under her breath. "Do you think I really used to be that awful? That it was shocking to ever hear me say thank you?"
About that time, my mother walks into the kitchen. She stops short when she sees Charlie. "Did you spend the night here?" My mother doesn't seem very pleased.
"No." I lie for Charlie. "I just picked her up this morning."
My mother's eyes narrow. I don't have to have memory of her to know she's suspicious. "Why aren't you two at school right now?"
We're both quiet for a moment, but then Charlie blurts out, "It's a flex day."
My mother nods without question. She walks to the pantry and begins speaking to Ezra.
"What's a flex day?" I whisper.
Charlie shrugs. "I have no idea, but it sounded good." She laughs and then whispers, "What's your mother's name?"
I open my mouth to respond, but I draw a complete blank. "I have no idea. I'm not sure I ever wrote it in any notes."
My mother peeks her head out of the pantry. "Charlie, will you be joining us for dinner tonight?"
Charlie looks at me, and then at my mother. "Yes, ma'am. If I can remember."
I laugh and Charlie smiles, and for a split second, I forget what we're about to go through again.
I catch Charlie staring at the clock on the oven. I can see the worry, not only in her eyes, but in every single part of her. I grab her hand and squeeze it. "Don't think about that," I whisper. "Not for another hour."
"I have no idea how anyone could possibly forget how magnificent this is," Charlie says, taking the last bite of whatever it was that Ezra cooked for us. Some might call it breakfast, but food like this deserves its own category.
"What is this again?" Charlie asks Ezra.
"Nutella French toast," she responds.
Charlie writes Nutella French Toast down on a piece of paper and scribbles two hearts next to it. Then she adds a follow-up sentence that says, You hate crawfish, Charlie!!!
Before we leave the kitchen and head back to my room, Charlie walks over to Ezra and gives her a big hug. "Thank you for breakfast, Ezra."
Ezra pauses a moment before hugging her back. "You're welcome, Charlize."
"Will you make that for me next time I'm here for breakfast? No matter if I can't remember eating it today?"
Ezra shrugs and says, "I guess."
As we're walking upstairs, Charlie randomly says, "You know what? I think money is what made us mean."
"What are you talking about?" We reach my bedroom and I close the door behind us.
"It just seems like maybe we were ungrateful. A little bit spoiled. I'm not sure our parents taught us how to be decent humans. So in a way...I'm grateful this happened to us."
I sit on the bed and pull her back against my chest. She rests her head on my shoulder and tilts her face up to mine. "I think you were always a little nicer than me. But I don't think either of us can be proud of who we were."
I give her a quick peck on the lips and lean my head back against the wall. "I think we were a product of our environment. Inherently, we're good people. We might lose our memories again, but we're still the same on the inside. Somewhere deep down, we want to do good. Be good. Deep down we love each other. A lot. And whatever this is that's happening to us, it's not touching that."
She slides her fingers through mine and squeezes. We sit in silence for a little while. Every now and then I'll glance at my phone. We have about ten minutes left until 11:00 a.m., and I don't think either of us knows how to spend that time. We've already written more notes than we'll be able to comprehend in the next forty-eight hours.
All we can do is wait.
My heart is beating so hard, it's losing rhythm. My mouth is dry. I grab the bottle of water sitting on Silas's nightstand and down a big drink. "This is terrifying," I tell him. "I wish we could speed up the next five minutes and get this over with."
He sits up straighter on the bed and grabs my hand. "Sit in front of me."
I sit in front of him. We're both cross-legged on the bed, in the same position we were in at the hotel room two days ago. Thinking of that morning makes me ill. I don't want to acknowledge the possibility that in a few minutes, I might not know who he is.
I have to have faith this time. This can't go on forever. Can it?
I close my eyes and try to control my breathing. I feel Silas's hand reach up and brush the hair from my eyes.
"What's the one thing you're the most scared of forgetting?" he asks.
I open my eyes. "You."
He brushes his thumb over my mouth and leans in to kiss me. "Me too. I love you, Charlie."
And without hesitation I say, "I love you, too, Silas."
When his lips meet mine, I'm no longer scared. Because I know that whatever happens in the next few seconds...it'll happen with Silas, and that brings me comfort.
He threads our fingers together and says, "Ten seconds."
We both inhale deep breaths. I can feel his hands shaking, but they aren't shaking nearly as badly as mine.
"Five...four...three...two..."
The only sound I hear is the thrashing of my heart. The rest of the world is chillingly silent.
My lips are still resting softly against hers. Our knees are touching, our eyes are closed, our breath is mingling between us as I wait to make my next move. I know for a fact that I didn't lose my memory this time. That makes twice in a row...but I have no idea about Charlie.
I slowly open my eyes so that I can see what's in hers. Her eyes remain closed. I watch her for a few seconds, waiting to see what her first reaction will be.
Will she remember me?
Will she have no idea where she is?
She begins to pull back, slowly, and her eyelids flutter open. There's a mixture of fear and shock in her expression. She pulls back a few more inches, studying my face. She turns her head and looks around the room.
When she glances back at me, my heart plummets down my chest like the drop of an anchor. She has no idea where she is.
"Charlie?"
Her tear-rimmed eyes swing to mine and she quickly covers her mouth with her hand. I can't tell if she's about to scream. I should have put a note on the door like we did last time.
She looks down at the bed and lowers her hand to her chest. "You were wearing black," she whispers.
Her gaze falls to the pillow next to me. She points at it. "We were right there. You were wearing a black t-shirt, and I was laughing at you because I said it was too tight. I said it made you look like Simon Cowell. You pinned me to the mattress, and then..." Her eyes meet mine. "And then you kissed me."
I nod, because somehow...I remember every single moment of that. "It was our first kiss. We were fourteen," I say. "But I had been wanting to kiss you like that since we were twelve."
She slaps her hand over her mouth again. Sobs begin to rack her entire body. She lunges forward, wrapping her arms around my neck. I pull her down to the bed with me and everything comes rushing back in waves.
"The night you got caught sneaking in?" she says.
"Your mom went after me with a belt. Chased me right out of your bedroom window."
Charlie starts laughing between her tears. I'm holding her against me, my face pressed against her neck. I close my eyes and sort through all the memories. The good ones. The bad ones. All the nights she cried in my arms over the way things turned out between her mother and father.
"The phone calls," she says quietly. "Every single night."
I know exactly what she's talking about. I would call her every night and we would stay on the phone for an entire hour. When our memories left us, we couldn't figure out why we had talked for so long every night if our relationship was falling apart.
"Jimmy Fallon,"
I tell her. "We both loved Jimmy Fallon. And I would call you every night when his show would come on, and we would watch it together."
"But we never talked," she says. "We just watched the show together without speaking and then we'd go straight to sleep."
"Because I loved hearing you laugh."
Not only are the memories flooding me right now, but the feelings. All the feelings I've ever had for this girl are unfolding, and for a second I'm not sure if I can take it all in.
We hold each other tight as we rake through a lifetime of memories. Several minutes pass as we both laugh at the good memories and then more minutes pass as we succumb to the not so good ones. The hurt our parents' actions inflicted on us. The hurt we've caused each other. The hurt we've caused other people. We're feeling every bit of it, all at once.
Charlie clenches my shirt in her fists and buries her face in my neck. "It hurts, Silas," she whispers. "I don't want to be that girl again. How can we make sure we're not the same people we were before this happened to us?"
I run my hand over the back of her head. "But we are those people," I say to her. "We can't take back who we've been in the past, Charlie. But we can control who we are in the present."
I lift her head from my shoulder and hold her face in my hands. "Charlie, you have to promise me something." I wipe her tears away with my thumb. "Promise me you will never fall out of love with me again. Because I don't want to forget you all over again. I never want to forget a single second with you."
She shakes her head. "I swear. I'll never stop loving you, Silas. And I'll never forget."
I dip my head until my mouth meets hers. "Never Never."
The End
Silas is bringing dinner home. I wait for him at the kitchen window while I pretend to wash vegetables for a salad. I like to pretend I'm washing things at the sink just so I can see when he pulls into the driveway.
His car pulls in ten minutes later; my fingers are pruned from the water. I grab for a dishtowel, feeling those damn butterflies in my stomach. They never went away. From what I've heard, that's a rare thing after this many years of marriage.
The kids get out of the car first. Jessa, our daughter, and then her boyfriend, Harry. Normally my eyes would go to Silas next, but something makes me linger on Jessa and Harry.
Jessa is just like me: stubborn, mouthy, and aloof. I'd cry, but she mostly makes me laugh with her one-liners. I like Harry; they've been together since freshman year and plan on going to the same college when they graduate next year. They're usually the epitome of teen love, all glassy eyed and touchy like Silas and I used to be. Still are. But today, Jessa stands off to the side of the driveway, her arms folded across her chest.