I wanted to be able to remember. For the very least, I wanted to be able to remember him. The way he looked at me, I know he loved me, or who I used to be, or however you want to dice it, there was something very special between us and I wanted to be able to smile at him and say, “Oh, you. Yes of course I remember you.”
But I couldn’t remember anything. I didn’t know my name. I hadn’t been able to recognize my own face in a picture. Whatever was happening in my brain had really done a number on me, and there didn’t seem to be any coming back from it.
So I apologized, because it seemed like the least I could do. And he smiled at me. It was a sad smile, but a smile nonetheless. “Well, will you at least give me the chance to win you over again?” I shrugged, because how else could I answer that. “I’ll come back the next time the doctors think it’s okay for you to have visitors, yeah?”
I nodded at that. I wanted him to come back. And maybe that was worth something. He reached out towards me, by habit, before remembering himself and letting his hands fall back to his sides. “I’ll see you soon.” He gave me one last smile, and headed out, leaving me alone with the doctors to try more tests.