It all starts with goodbye

Chapter 8

Carrie fell asleep as soon as her head touched the pillow.

I watched her face, trying to record every detail deep in my memory so that I wouldn't ever forget.

She snored softly, and it made me smile. Everything about Carrie seemed to make me smile.

I ran my fingers through her hair. It was silky and smelled like shampoo.

I couldn't resist and traced her small nose with my fingers, which looked big and clumsy compared to the small, delicate face.

Everything was so odd, so out of place, yet I felt I didn't want to be anywhere else with anyone else.

A sudden thought made me freeze my hand in the air and look at it carefully.

There was certainly no ring, which was a good sign. However, looking closely, I could see what looked like the shadow of one.

I shook my head. Was that what I was trying to hide from myself?

I didn't know much about the human psyche to diagnose myself, and whoever did this hit me on the head very hard. Maybe there was nothing to hide.

Or maybe I killed someone.

Maybe I was of the mafia, and everything had become a huge mess, and that was the reason why they tried to murder me. That would be a reasonable explanation about why my heart would beat so fast by the single thought of going back home, wherever home was.

I shook my head again, getting this idea out of my mind. Shortly after I became conscious, still in the car, I heard bits of the conversation from the people who tried to kill me; they were nowhere even near professionals. They not only missed both of the shots, but they also didn't even realize I was still alive and conscious when they spawned my body. I mean, it hurt like hell, and I almost screamed the life out of me when they touched me. Perhaps they did realize and just didn't want to kill me.

They had said something about that he would call the other cops, so probably I was not corrupt. Not being a corrupted married cop was a good thing, at least for the plans I couldn't help to make whenever I stared at Carrie's smart eyes.

Carrie mumbled something unintelligible in her dreams, bringing my attention back to her.

Yes. As selfish as it was, I didn't want to find whatever was waiting for me. Not yet.

*

"What are you doing?" I asked in a tired voice. I didn't realize when I slept, but I opened my eyes to Carrie's sight leaning over my leg, with her first aid kit, on the chair next to me.

"I'm sorry I woke you up; it was time to change those dressings."

She continued to work in silence, sometimes sticking the tip of her tongue out when she had to concentrate hard.

"It's much better now." Carrie lifted her chin and put her hands on her waist. "I swear I am even proud of myself. It's going to leave a scar, but I mean, you didn't lose your leg!"

"You ruined any chances I had to be a leg model, but hey, keeping my leg is something." She smiled, pinching my belly in revenge. "Talking seriously now, your grandfather would be very proud of you. I know I am."

"Thank you; I appreciate your words. You know, the only reason I am here is to spread his ashes around here. He loved to hunt through these dark woods. God knows why." Carrie pressed her lips together, pausing. When she spoke again, her voice was shaking, and so was her chin. "Would you like to join me?"

I stared at her, searching for the right words.

"I mean, you don't have to if you don't want to."

"Don't be silly, of course, I'll be very honored to join you. Let's do it." I added, "Now!"

"Someone in this room can't walk yet." She rolled her eyes, trying to smile.

"Who?" I looked around, pretending to look for someone. "I may not be able to catwalk around just yet, but I'm sure that if you give me two more days, I'll be able to hobble to the end of the world if you want me to. Every day, or should I say 'with every nap that I take,' I feel better. In fact, today I would like to try to start exercising my leg around. What do you think?"

"Oh, this is great. I will change your shoulder's dressing, and then I can try to help you with this." She gave me a painkiller that I gladly took.

"You must be the most dedicated nurse I have ever met." I took off my shirt and watched her look away. This was an unexpected reaction; Carrie didn't seem like the shy girl type.

"That's because you don't remember the others." I sat better on the bed so that she had easy access to my back.

"I do. I remember falling off my bike when I was twelve and hitting my chin on the floor. A lot of blood came out, and my mother took me to the hospital, but the nurse was not so kind. And she wasn't so beautiful. Not even close."

"Oh me, oh my. I see your Casanova vibe is back." I shrugged. "Don't shrug; I am working on your shoulder."

"I am only telling the truth. The nurse was older than my grandmother at the time, and she had a horrible mole on the tip of her nose."

"My grandmother had a mole on the tip of her nose as well."

"Oh no. Was she a nurse? Am I talking bad about your grandmother?"

"No. She was a writer, like me. She didn't publish any of her poetry though. I loved the mole on the tip of her nose; she looked like a witch that could kill you with a spell if she wanted to. I never saw her cursing anyone, just bewitching people with the beautiful poems she used to write."

"That's sweet."

"Yes, she was a sweet person. Then she started to forget things, then she forgot people, then she forgot us."

"I am so sorry."

"Don't be. She had an amazing life and died peacefully surrounded by those who loved her so deeply, even though she couldn't remember. Love is something you can feel deep in your bones, even if your body gets so old that you don't recognize the word 'love' anymore."

The room went quiet for a couple minutes. I could recognize the word 'love,' but did I know what it meant?

Have I ever felt it?

I could recognize myself when I looked at the mirror, but I couldn't recognize whatever was going on inside of my heart.

"There you go. You are good to go now."

"Do you think I'll find my way?"

Carrie frowned. "Well, that is an unexpected question. Do you mean to recover your memory?"

"Yes...and no. What if I remember everything, and I don't like who I am? What if I'm the kind of person I wouldn't want to be around?"

"Well, I don't have an answer for that. I mean, I think the first step is to get your memory back, and if you don't like who you are, you can always change. Life has these things; sometimes, it changes who we are, sometimes we change life." She sat on the bed by my side. "Anyway, we can go to the hospital if you want. I am sure they will have more answers for you than I do."

"I don't feel ready to venture outside. I feel selfish for keeping you here, taking care of me. You don't even know me after all."

"It will sound crazy, but somehow I feel like I am the one keeping you locked inside here. You are helping me to maintain whatever is left of my mental sanity. I was terribly alone before you walked in. I still am, I mean. You have a life, and you'll have to get back to it, but it's cold, gray and it looks like it is going to rain. So, if you are not in pain, you can stay as long as you want."

She hugged herself, and my heart roared; Carrie looked so vulnerable. I wanted to protect her, I don't even know from what, but I wanted to keep her with me and protect her from all harm.

I also wanted to kiss her so badly.

May God have mercy because I was about to do just that.