Don't forget that I love you

Prologue

Alzheimer’s. When you think of this disease, you think of old people, the senile, the elderly. Not young people. Not a young, healthy woman full of vigor. No. That woman is my fiancé. You wouldn’t think of her when you think of Alzheimer’s, would you? Her youthful face, clear voice.

I was feeling angry about it when I woke up today. Each day I wake up feeling different. Sad, hopeful, anxious, depressed. Today I am angry. The odds of this happening to her were a million to one. It sounds horrible, but all that I can manage to think right now is why her? One of the best people that I have ever had the privilege of meeting. And she chose me. Undeserving, arrogant, too tall, but also completely head over heels in love with her. 

That’s all I can do now, though. Love her. Stay with her. I can’t even be her rock, her solace if she doesn’t even know who I am. That is one of the things that angers me the most, I think as I walk down the hall to her room, a bundle of blue daisies in my fist. I bring these to her every day, her favorite flower as you might have guessed.

I pretend that I am an admirer when she doesn’t remember me, relishing the lovely blush that adorns her cheeks every time I have to tell her that. She thinks she is sick, and believes she is getting better. That’s what they tell her each morning, unless it’s a good day and she has her memory again for a bit.

When it’s a good day, I try and look as happy as I can. She feels unreasonably guilty, like it is her fault she has the gene. So I plaster the most real smile I can on my face, and distract her with all kinds of conversation and things, just happy to be talking to the girl I would die for, even if it is for a limited time.

Sighing, I bring up mental pictures of her smile, her laugh, making me smile in return as I approach her door. ‘Emily Nash.’ The little brown sign and plain white letters don’t begin to do her name justice.

Opening the door gently, I see her sitting by the window, looking out over the grass and trees, a thoughtful look on her delicate features. Her big grey eyes don’t seem to notice me yet, but she seems to be talking to herself, soft pink lips moving quietly.

I know she isn’t though, because as long as I’ve known her she has sung softly to herself when deep in thought. Her long, caramel brown, and silk soft to the touch hair lying still and slightly wavy across her shoulders. I hate myself for interrupting this beautiful scene, just her in her thoughts, seemingly content. But I have to knock. I have to be with her even if she doesn’t remember me today.

So I knock. Her head turns toward the door, slightly startled.

“Who are you? You don’t look like a doctor.” She says quietly, shyly. Smiling back the tears as I do every day, I walk in and place the flowers on her bed, the scent of all the other daisies I have brought previously assaulting my nose, making it twitch.

“No. Just an admirer, of sorts. How are you feeling?” She blushes before answering, making my smile slightly more genuine.

“Oh, I feel fine, thank you. I am getting better. Thank you for the flowers, as well. How did you know they were my favorite?” She asks, her brow crinkled cutely.

“Oh? I could’ve just brought them without knowing they were your favorite. Who says I know?” I tease, and her blush deepens, my smile almost fully genuine now.

“I-I’m sorry, I just assumed that-“

“I was only teasing. Your mother told me.” She looks relieved. I just can’t help but tease her, she’s just so cute.

“I see. Would you like to sit? You came all the way here just to see me after all.” She offers, still flushed.

She is so much bolder than she used to be, since we got together. I’m glad that that stuck with her, when her memory didn’t. I go over and sit on the window seat in front of her, making her fidget.