But this this I’ll remember this for a long, long time.
I take a breath and step into the room, forgetting all manners, all etiquette, that I’m encroaching on a stranger’s space. In a hospital of all places.
Her back is turned to me, bent slightly over, her shoulder lifting and falling with the movement of her hand on the strings. Her blonde hair is long, pulled into a messy, tangled ponytail. She’s dressed in normal clothes, like me, jeans and a T-shirt.
I can’t tell much else, except that she’s young.
The skin along the back of her neck is taught and pale. We’re all pale in here, I can’t help but think.
But there’s something familiar about her. About the way she tilts her head.
She starts to play another song and her foot taps along to the beat. There’s something so welcoming about it, I speak before I can help myself.
“Your… your playing is amazing.”
She jumps, her hands stopping immediately and she spins around, her mouth in open in a silent gasp.
And it’s my turn to gasp.
Oh my god.
It’s her.
It’s the girl in the alley.
No, it can’t be.
I must be dreaming. I must have dreamt her into being. Wanted to see her so badly, that I’m hallucinating her. It can’t really be her. Here. Right in front of me.
She’s standing up, and stepping back.
It’s her. I know it is. I’d know her anywhere.
Say something, you complete buffoon.
“Oh my god, it’s you. What are you doing here? I can’t believe it’s you,” I ramble, no control over what I want to say.
My hand reaches out and takes her by the wrist, like it’s the most natural thing in the world. And I smile, because, suddenly, everything is okay.
I’ve found her. She’s right here.
Except, she wrenches her hand out of mine and takes three steps back, her eyes suddenly flooding with fear.
“Who are you?” she’s asking me, her hand reaching for the call button by the bed.
“It’s me,” I tell her, confused. “It’s Jez,” I say, before I remember we never told each other our names. I take a step forward, desperate for her to acknowledge that she recognizes me. What’s going on, how can she not remember?
“I’m sorry. I don’t… I don’t know who you are,” she says, still shaking her head.
Is this a joke? Is she playing? “How can you not…?
“Noemie, are you okay?” Toni says, stepping in behind me into the room.
Noemie. Her name is Noemie. Of course, it is. It’s beautiful and unique. French.
“No. This this man..” she starts, pointing to me.
“I’m Jez… We’re…” I don’t even know how to finish. We’re what? Friends? Partners in a urinal crime. “She… she knows me.” I repeat, as if that will force her to drop this game and admit she’s just joking.
“No,” she shakes her head again, harder this time. “I’ve never met him before in my life.”
Desperate, I look into her eyes, and see nothing that reflects recognition of me in her pupils.
Suddenly nothing is okay again.
NOEMIE
“I’m sorry, I don’t know you,” I say again, to this strange man in my room.
This man who’s sucking all the air out of the room. Who he is?
I don’t know him. I know I don’t. But he won’t believe me.
I want to tell him, though, I want to tell him, if we had met in the past, there’s no way I would have forgotten him. He’s the most strikingly handsome man I’ve ever seen in my life. I’m having trouble not staring at him.
“You must! How can you not?! It’s me!” He practically runs across the room, leaning in close. Leaning in so close I can smell the gel in his hair, the spice of his aftershave. It’s intoxicating. I want to close my eyes and take a deep breath.
But I don’t know him.
“My name is Jez,” he says again. “But… you don’t know that.”
That doesn’t make sense. “I don’t know your name, but I know you?”
“From that night… that night in the alley. Remember?”
He staring into my eyes, and I’m finding it hard to tear my own away. He’s making me wish I knew him. But, no. I don’t. I’m sorry, handsome stranger. I don’t remember.
“No. I don’t.” Good. Be firm, Noemie.
“You knighted me. Sir Elbow Jerk? Remember the urinal?”
Oh. Okay. He’s crazy. This guy is out of his mind, off his nutter, completely lost every single one of his marbles crazy.
Fucking sexy as hell. But insane.
“I… think you might have me mistaken for someone else,” I say, ignoring the impulse to say that she’s a lucky woman.
“No!” he yells, and his voice is deep and startles me with its force. He moves closer me, intimidating.
And now I’m scared. I flick my eyes over to Toni and she steps forward.
“Mr. Petrescu, let’s go, let’s go back to your room and let Noemie rest.”
“No.” He doesn’t move and just stands there, staring at me. Like he’s trying to will me to remember something that he thinks we’ve shared with the power of his mind. If anything would work, I think that would be it. It’s almost impossible to ignore his presence.
“Jez,” she says, pulling gently on his shoulder. He doesn’t give her any ground.
“She knows me. She does. How can she not remember?” His voice is raspy, thick with emotion. The look of hurt across his face pierces my heart like an iron poker. I feel for him. I hope he finds the woman he’s looking for, that she’s not just a figment of his imagination. She would be a very lucky woman, indeed.
His forehead bunches up and he spins around, like he’s about to storm out of the room. I can’t explain why I half want him to go, and yet, half of me wants him to stay.
Just as he reaches the door he turns back, and almost runs to me.