Clean Slate

Chapter 5

"Hi-" I looked to my parents, wrapping my arms around the boy who was supposedly my brother. I could see a resemblance, same nose, same brown eyes. My mom was mouthing a word to me, seeing I need help. "Hi Matthew."

"Are you okay? You don't seem broken." He was smiling up at me, arms wrapped around my middle.

"The doctors fixed me." That must've been a good answer because Matthew pressed his face to my stomach, my hand itching to rub the top of his head. It was a weird instinct, but maybe that's part of being a big sister. I wish I knew.

"I missed you."

"I missed you more." I slid my pillow into one arm and took Matthew's hand, Carter grabbing my bags out of the car and following us towards the house.

My parents opened the massive garage door and pulled the car in once we were out of the way, thinking it would be good for me to get some fresh air as I got out of the car.

As Matthew and I approached the front door with Carter behind us, it opened slowly, revealing an aging woman with soft features and light gray hair, streaks of blonde still visible. "Hi Olivia."

Recognition hit me like a train as I stared at her. My grandmother was on the verge of tears, and I was quick to drop Matthew's hand to embrace her.

It was impossible to not recognize her after every afternoon we spent together. After every sleepover at her house, after every recipe she taught me. These memories flashed in my head, and I felt a damp cheek against mine.

"You can recognize me?" Her voice was shaking, fragile hands gripping my hoodie. "Olivia, dear, can you..."

I nodded, tears streaming from my eyes. "This is so weird."

"I bet." My grandmother laughed, both of us pulling back from the hug to take a breath and dry our eyes. "Let me make you some real food."

"I might throw up if I eat anything." I dried my eyes with my hoodie sleeves, Carter coming up behind me and placing a hand on my back. I didn't want his touch right now, or maybe ever, but he definitely thought he was helping so I let it be.

"Maybe a nap would be good then?"

"A shower and a nap." My mother's voice was coming from behind us as she approached, her voice sounding hurt. Her own daughter didn't recognize her. Instead, I recognized my grandma. "She's not allowed screens for 72 hours, so there will be pleanty of time for food making. Rest is really important for her head though."

My grandmother reached forward and captured my face in her hands affectionately, something she did often. I felt pride in remembering that detail about her, and so so guilty that I couldn't remember a thing about anyone else. "Rest up dear, i'll cook for you whenever you're ready."

"Thank you grandma." She released my face and Carter began to guide me towards the stairs, still holding my bag in his hand. Luckily, I was still familiar with the house where everything was. I didn't mention it to Carter.

"This is your room." Carter set my bag on my bed, expectantly waiting for my reaction. "Can you recognize it?"

"Yeah, I can." I sat down on my bed slowly, running my hand over my flower patterned comforter. "it feels nice to be able to recognize something."

"What about me? Does the bed bring back any memories?" Carter smirked at me in a way that made me feel nauseous, and I clearly didn't hide it well because he stiffined. "Okay well uh, i'll let you shower."

"Thanks..." Carter left the room and shut the door, giving me my first minutes of peace. My head was still pounding and aching, so I took a minute to lay down and study my surroundings.

My room was familiar to me, memories of me practicing dances for cheer in my full length mirror, doing my makeup everyday at my vanity. My queen sized bed was accompanied by two nightstands, one with a lamp and alarm clock, the other holding up a vase full of flowers and a stack of books. Almost every peice of furniture in my room was white, giving the room a very bright feeling. The walls were painted a light blue, almost white.

I remembered painting those walls, gently going around every window and baseboard. But trying to remember everything made my head begin to pound. I forced myself up from my bed and into the hallway, walking into the bathroom and shutting the door.

It was probably the longest shower in history, but the heat felt nice on my head. When I redressed myself, I decided it would be good to visit with my family that I couldn't seem to remember, and hopefully bring some memories back.

My mom smiled from the kitchen when she saw me downstairs, so it was probably a good choice. I sat down in one of the barstools against the kitchen island, the marble counter cool under my arms. It felt familiar, but I couldn't remember anything associated with the kitchen.

"Your grandma left to pick up Bailey and Carter decided to head home. I think it's hard for him." My mother spoke very precisely, as if she had memorized what she was going to say to me. She seemed unsteady, cutting up a carrot with shaking hands.

"Who's Bailey?" I asked, not remembering her mentioning another sibling. But then again, my head wasn't to be trusted.

"Oh it's our dog." My mother didn't look at me, green long-sleeve rolled up to her elbows, blue jeans around her bottom half. "You love her, everyone does."

I nodded, fiddling with the hem of the red hoodie i decided to wear after my shower. I paired it with some grey shorts, the red of the hoodie complimenting my hair nicely. "Do I cook with you often?"

"You do." My mother met my eyes then, a small smile on her lips. "This is the one thing I wouldn't mind starting over." She took a deep breath, setting the knife down and leaning against the counter top. "I loved teaching you how to cook, I'd be a lucky woman if I got to do that all over again."

I smiled, a warm feeling filling my chest. I felt safe here, and I could tell that I would be very close with my mom when my memories came back.

"Where's my dad?" I asked, as my mother began to continue cutting up vegetables. "And what are you making?"

"Your grandma wanted me to start on some soup for you." I watched as she separated the vegetables into different containers, a large pot already on the stove. "And your father is uhm, well he's having a hard time too."

The warm feeling in my chest was gone, replaced by guilt. "I want to know how I can help you guys."

"Just take care of yourself." My mom walked around to my side of the kitchen island, placing one hand on my face and looking down at me.

"Be our little girl again."