– Friday, May 11th, –
As always, Finnley is in the chair next to my bed when I wake up, him still sleeping. Since I'm eating solid foods again, we get our breakfast served in the same time, Annette again having to wake him up to tell him to eat his breakfast.
And since I'm feeling better each day, today I decide on slipping out of bed, and sitting down at the table with Finnley to eat.
"Are you allowed to get out?" Finnley instantly jumped up from his chair to support me as he noticed me getting out of bed.
"I don't know. I need to practise, right?" I smirk and get a small smile in return while he guides me to the table after grabbing the tray with food from my hold.
"You're pig-headed, doing whatever you want."
"Call me a rebel." I bow my head and wave a hand, making him chuckle while I sit down. "Or oblivious, dense..." I cock my head, looking at him while he sits down, my last words causing his smile to disappear completely.
Finnley stares at me for a while, sighing deeply before he focusses on his food, again avoiding eye contact with me.
"So... I was thinking."
"Watch out you don't hurt your head again." He counters with a small smile, causing me to grin because I like fooling around like we always did. The little insults cause tremendous turmoil in my stomach.
"I didn't forget secrets I uncovered about you two years ago. I just sort of forgot your explanation."
"I never really gave you one, to be honest." He sends me a short look. "Brief, maybe. I kind of admitted everything but that's about it."
"Can you explain now? I mean, it's not something I forgot, so it's technically not forbidden to tell me, right?"
"Right." He chuckles again, nodding along. "I'll do my best. But I'll warn you I am recovering from a lot of things too and I might not be able to tell you everything."
"That's fine, I'd appreciate it if you try."
"I will, so, which secret first?"
"You're gay. I mean, that's what I found out..."
"You're bisexual, though I think you lean more towards guys..." He silences, his face flushing. "Which is something I shouldn't be talking about..."
"And you're focussing on me, not you. I found out you were gay, but I can't figure out why you never told me."
"Because... two years ago, you condemned gay people. I did explain this part, by the way. I was scared you wouldn't accept me, so I decided on keeping it hidden."
"And Nathan was your boyfriend."
"We dated, never officially a couple though. But yeah, for a while he was the only guy I was seeing."
"And you slept with Stan, and stranger..."
"I did." He nods again. "I was experimenting, and I made some stupid mistakes while I did. Those mistakes backfired and caused me to end up in trouble, getting abducted and all." He keeps his eyes on me, I think trying to make sure I can handle the information he's giving me.
"I know I retraced your steps or tried to as much as possible."
"And you ended up dating Stan." Finnley chuckles, but it's forced and there's a flash of sadness in his eyes. "I can't tell you much more about it."
"I know." I nod, taking a bite from the yoghurt in front of me. "You were depressed, for a long time. And you didn't tell me that part either."
"I didn't want you to worry, because it all had to do with me not accepting my sexuality, and more."
"And what is more?"
"My parents." Finnley whispers. "Them pushing me to the limit and beyond. Forbidding me to do anything a normal teenager should do." He takes in a deep breath. "And with you, because you didn't know I was depressed, I didn't feel likeyou were treating me like I was about to break or something. I wanted to goof around with you still, and I think it would've changed if you would've known I was depressed."
"Fair enough." I nod again, taking a look at him to take him in fully. He seems more tired then ever and I wish I could ask him about the reasons for him being in hospital, but I know he won't answer anyway. So, I decide on focussing on the subject that is occupying my mind most. "And you had feelings for me."
"Have." He corrects me. "I have feelings for you, and I don't think those will ever go away. You're still dense, oblivious, annoying sometimes. But I like very bit of you." His face flushes. "We kissed, multiple times."
"We did?"
"I knew you wouldn't remember any of them..." Finnley sighs deeply. "We fist kissed on Emma's birthday, months before shit went down. We kissed again about three months before I went missing, because you were jealous when you caught me and Emma kissing and you ended up drunk."
"I kissed you?"
"I initiated the first, but you kissed me back. You initiated the second and I left you because I knew you wouldn't accept it, or do it when being sober..."
"But?" I hear a but, and I see him doubting to go on.
"You kissed me sober the third time..." he clears his throat, avoiding any eye contact by staring out of the window. "But you can't remember because of your memory loss and we can't talk about it."
"So..." I drawl, trying to get him to look at me again. "I kissed you after you went missing. Which means I kissed you while I was already dating Stan."
"And he knows..." Finnley's voice is cracking, breaking a bit, a tear seeping from the corner of his eye. "I love you, Cris. And you loved me back..." He chokes out, tears now freely rolling down his cheeks as he stares at me with a desperate look in his eyes. As if begging me to love him back right now.
"But I decided to date Stan." I remind him, because I am dating Stan, not him.
"Yeah... yeah... you're with Stan..." He suddenly gets up from his seat, the chair scraping over the linoleum. "I... I'm sorry." He suddenly bursts out of the room, leaving me behind confused because it's been two years. He must have accepted me dating Stan by now, right? He knows I'm dating Stan, so why did it upset him that much when I reminded him of that fact?
What did I miss? What did I forget?
* * * * *
"How are you doing?" Gerald, my psychologist, looks at me curiously.
"Shit." I shrug while muttering my answer, staring down towards the cup of water I'm holding with shaking hands.
"And how come you are feeling 'shit'?"
"I can't remember anything that matters." I send him an accusing look, knowing he's in the team of medical specialists that decided it's best not to tell me anything. It's his fault I'm this confused, hurt, upset. Feeling like absolute shit. After Finnley ran out of the room in tears, I had to wait for two hours until my parents were there to keep me company, and eventually take me to my appointment with Gerald. "And I can't take it anymore. I needto know what I missed."
"I can imagine it is hard not to remember a long period of time..."
"It's not just that, it's the fact I feel like so much things happened in that period of time that I need to remember. It's like I miss everything I need to know, and only have stupid memories that don't matter."
"All memories matter, Cristian," he calmly tells me, tapping a pen on a notebook in a calm pace. "Even those that seem, feel insignificant, are important. They made you into the person you are today."
"But none of that matters if I have no idea what happened in the past two years, right? Everyone moved on from a point in time, made memories, experienced things, went through stuff, and I might as well stood still at that point, because I can't remember anyway."
"They're all trying to support you as much as possible. It might mean it'll take time to catch up with them, but if you allow them to help you, you will catch up before you know it. You can make new memories..."
"You really don't get it, huh?" I call out in frustration. "This isn't a normal situation, okay? They didn't just live teenager lives while I can't remember going out with them, or being in school, or whatever. My best friend was missing and I can't remember how it ended, I mean, I know he's here so it ended with him coming home again. But I have no idea who did it to him, who was to blame. Did they get punished? Why did they do it to him..."
"Isn't it most important..."
"And I figured out I'm bisexual – though Finn thinks I prefer guys – in the period that I half lost memories to, and I can't remember how I accepted being bisexual." I continue my rant, not accepting him asking any questions because I need to spill out all questions I have myself. "I feel like I accept it and I'm happy whenever Stan is with me but then again I am opposed to it because I was always thought it was wrong. My friends thought it was wrong. The whole community did. So why do they suddenly all accept it, and why do I? What made me change my mind?" I spit out in frustration, finally voicing some of the things that bother me most. "I live with a guy I don't remember other than hating his guts, and I don't know why I suddenly started trusting him to a degree we now share an apartment. I was in a car accident with this guy called Oliver and I have no clue who he is, why we were in a car, when we met and what our connection is, but still I feel like he's a reason for us to end up in that car crash in the first place despite people telling me he wasn't to blame. How am I supposed to trust a guy that I don't even knowor remember?"
I think somewhere halfway down my ranting, Gerald stopped writing down things, just staring at me patiently. My voice went up a couple of levels, I'm now nearly crying, and I want him to stop listening and start answering questions.
"I can't remember graduating and I know I'm 20 but I don't even know how I graduated, what I do in college. I don't want to redo my final year in high school because I can't remember my final exams or any of the information I learned in there." I take in deep breaths, forcefully wiping away tears that now roll down my cheek. "I want to know what I missed. Or go back to sleep and wake up once this is all over and done and I remember everything again. I can't stand the thought those memories might never come back and I need answers."
Gerald nods a couple of times while I silence, I think having spilled out all of my frustration and questions. Though I'm sure I forgot some questions, but I think he has enough to talk to me about for the next couple of sessions.
We remain silent, while Gerald re-reads his notes quickly.
"Why aren't you saying anything?"
"Because I want you to let it all sink in for a while. It's healthy, normal to be angry about this. You feel powerless, lost, confused. Being angry and having all these questions is normal."
"I can't buy back my memories with normal." I spit out in anger, sliding down in my seat a bit, gulping down the water quickly.
"Cristian," Gerald addresses me with a calm voice. "I know you're struggling with a lot right now, while you're physically still healing, you're mentally struggling too, and both must be frustrating to no end. But you are making progress, in both ways."
"Tell me how that makes a difference regarding my memories."
He smiles, again calmly. I bet he's used to people snapping at him. It's what makes him the professional, right?
"Once you're physically recovered enough, you'll be able to do more. And with doing more, comes the opportunity to visit certain places and people, experience things you can't remember right now, and with those opportunities comes the ability to remind yourself of things. It is not a secret that smells, sounds, visuals, help us to remember things. You lost the connection with those memories right now, and we don't know to what extent they will come back. But I assure you, once you're strong enough, we will offer you guidance and help to regain as much as possible. All you can do right now, is remain calm, and focus on recovering from the car crash. Once you're going home, we'll go over the things that will be able to help you remember. Don't fight your own mind, work with it. Allow it to guide you in this process."
"What's that last part supposed to mean? I understand that my senses will be able to help, but how can I allow my mind to guide me when it's blank?"
"By listening to your heart, and your mind, even if it feels as if your mind is blank."
"That doesn't make any sense, you know?"
He chuckles for a bit and nods, before he taps my file that is in his lap too. "You have nightmares, I suggest figuring those out first. For as far as I can tell, dreams and therefor nightmares, is a way our subconsciousness tries to tell us things."
"I can hardly remember my nightmares. I know I have them, and I know it has to do with me drowning, but that's about it."
"Than write them down as soon as you wake up. It'll be your homework for our next session; write your dreams and nightmares down and bring them with you."
"Oh, so I'm in hospital and now I get homework too?" I snort, but then nod in agreement. "I'll write them down as much as possible."