NOEMIE
“Noemie?” There’s a voice at the door and I jump up, expecting Jez. But it’s not his voice.
It’s a familiar voice, but it’s not the one I wanted to hear.
“It’s me, it’s Chris.”
It takes me a moment to place him. And then I remember. It’s Chris, the sleazy guy from Gators. What the hell is he doing here? I notice someone looming behind him. It’s Mike, doing his bodyguarding thing. I gesture that it’s okay and he goes back to his seat.
“Chris? Um, what are you doing here?” I stand up by the bed, feeling self-conscious at the near stranger here in my hospital room.
“You still don’t remember?” He says, taking a few steps closer, his strong aftershave wafting toward me. I try not to cringe. My sense of smell is so strong that it’s almost like an attack on my nose.
“Remember what?” I say, absently, while I try to find a discreet way to fan the scent away.
“Me. Us.” What is he talking about? There is no us.
“Well, I remember you from the bar, Chris. That’s all there is to remember.”
“No. Babe, no. Damn, I… I was hoping you’d remember by now. I’ve stayed away because I didn’t want to create any extra pressure on you, but I can’t stay away any longer. I needed to see you.”
I can’t help but wish he had stayed away. I don’t know what he’s talking about. I don’t know why he’s here.
“I don’t remember.”
“Babe. Come on, try.” He comes up to me, so close I almost retch from the scent. I’m too busy trying to breathe, I almost don’t notice when he grabs my hand and presses it up to his face.
“Feel my face. Don’t tell me you don’t recognize me.” I fight not to wrench my hand away because I don’t want to hurt his feelings… just in case.
“I- I do recognize you. I just don’t, I don’t remember us being together.”
“You kill me. You’re killing me, babe.” He lets go of my hand and finally steps back and sits down on the couch.
How… how can this be happening? Could I really be forgetting being involved with him?
You forgot, Jez. My brain reminds me. I did. I don’t remember, Jez. And frankly, if I don’t remember, Jez. I could forget anybody. I could forget me and who I am, completely. I could forget all that and still, I would remember Jez. But I don’t.
Fuck.
I wander over, my eyes on him, his face, his movement, willing it to trigger something in my brain.
But there’s nothing.
Well, there’s disgust.
I take a breath and sink down onto the couch next to him. He looks at me, his eyes lowered, sad.
“Um, Chris. Why… why don’t you tell me a little about us then, maybe it will help me remember?”
“Of course, babe.”
I nod, trying to smile, to encourage him. I can’t imagine how hard it would be to be in love with someone and have them not remember you. Maybe Jez would know, I think, and feel instantly guilty. He’s never said he loved me or that we were involved. But he’s given every indication that he is now, hasn’t he?
Shut up with your Jez obsession for a moment right now there’s a man in front of you, telling you he is your boyfriend, give him some respect.
I notice Chris is looking at me strangely, and I wonder if he’s said anything yet.
“Sorry, I’m a little tired. Can you say it again?”
“I just said that we’ve been together for a few months. We are really in love. We spend pretty much every night together, either at your place or mine.”
“And… um, my place is?” I ask.
“Oh, you don’t remember that either? You share an apartment with Paige at The Emerson. You’ve probably been there for three and half years. You like it there.”
I nod. Because no, I didn’t forget. That’s a detail I do remember, and I was testing him. And he passed the test.
“What… what else can you tell me?”
“Well, we were planning a visit to Maine to visit your family. It’s your mom’s 50th next month, and we were going to go and surprise her. You haven’t been home for her birthday since you moved to L. A.”
How could he know that? I would only tell someone I’m close to that particular wish. To wake my mom up with a breakfast in bed on her birthday.
“How… how could you know that?” I ask him.
“Oh babe, you told me. You tell me everything. I know you. I know you, babe. And you know me.” He shifts closer and I try not to grimace.
“Tell me about you,” I say, fidgeting with the arm of the couch to avoid too much eye contact while I try to figure out what’s going on.
“Well, I’m the host on a cable TV show.”
That I remember. Can it really be the only thing I remember about him?
“I moved here from San Jose three years ago. I’m an only child. I have a dog. That’s what we first bonded over, because you love dogs. His name is Beto, but you call him Toto, because you hate human names for animals.”
Everything he says… everything he seems to know about me, is true.
“Do we…?” I start, but don’t know how to finish.
“Do we what, babe?”
“Do we… are we… intimate?”
A grin spreads across his face and I have to admit he’s good looking, in a slick, too charming kind of way. Did I fall for it?
“Yeah, babe, of course. Why do you think we spend every night together?” He shifts closer on the couch, and leans in, his mouth hot against my ear, “you love it when I kiss that little yin yang birthmark you have on your butt.”
I gasp. My birthmark.
How could he know about my birthmark?
Nobody knows. Nobody. Unless they’ve seen it for themselves.
Oh my god.
He seems to pick up on my reaction.
His eyes widen and he clasps my hand. “Babe! Do you believe me now? Do you finally believe me?
I can’t do anything but nod. I believe him. I have to.