THREE
It was odd driving in a car with Olive and having her not talk. Fletcher was used to her sitting next to him in the passenger's seat, describing the scenery and telling him facts about everything. They loved talking with each other-well Olive loved talking. Fletcher learned to listen and he did a wonderful job at listening to her rambles. But now that she had amnesia, her brain's infinite library of factoids disappeared. So the journey to the apartment, she was silent-not a word from Chyna or Fletcher as well.
When he pulled into the parking lot and he turned off the engine, it felt like he was turning of the car, yet turning on the start of being Olive's "caretaker." He unbuckled his seatbelt, then looked behind him.
"We're here," he said to Olive.
She leaned forward, peering out the window. "Where are we?" Her eyebrows were arched below her forehead. He noticed her voice was different. She sounded unsure and like a little kid. Fletcher took a much needed deep breath in attempt to contain his minor frustration.
"My apartment remember?" he replied.
Olive eyed the same stairs that she and Fletcher had used to bring up their belongings when they were moving in.
"What floor is it on?" Olive asked. "Cause I don't think I can walk up those stairs."
She pointed to them out the window. Fletcher took a look at the stairs himself, sighing. How ironic it was that she said she couldn't walk up them when she had done that earlier. He visioned her lugging boxes up the wooden steps like she was actually there, remembering how the day started.
When they got the call that the apartment they found out about four months ago around Fletcher's twenty first birthday was ready for them, the couple wasted no time moving in. Olive and Fletcher had been packing their things gradually for weeks. They chose a Saturday morning because Fletcher wasn't working that day.
Everything from their clothes, dish-ware, electronics and personal belongings were packed in the back of Fletcher's car. On the way there, both were giddy and anxious to move their stuff in that instead of just talking like their normal car rides, Olive plugged in the aux, cranking up the volume on her phone. Blasting out of the car radio was Vampire Weekend's "White Sky"-Fletcher's favorite band and now Olive's.
They belted out the lyrics, glancing and smiling at each other every so often. When the part of the song came where it dropped into the vocal runs, Fletcher quickly glanced at Olive with a goofy grin, then just as the vocals were about to come, he faced the road and he started to mimic the singers voice, almost over exaggerated. Olive clutched her stomach as she titled back her head in a fit of laughs. Fletcher broke "character" and grinned. They laughed and sang songs the whole drive to the apartments.
Fletcher blinked away the memories as he got out of the car. He opened the car door by Olive's side waiting for her to finishing unbuckling. He reached is hand out for her to grab, but she didn't accept.
"Can I help you down?" he asked.
"Do I look like a kid to you or something?" Olive scoffed, pushing his hand away.
Chyna ran around from the other side of car to help Fletcher out. She gently pushed him aside. "We just thought you might wanted help since you fainted earlier and you injured your head," Chyna explained.
"Aw thanks you're so sweet," Olive gushed, letting her help her out of the car. Fletcher crossed his arms, wondering why Olive accepted help from Chyna and not him. He took that time to grab the wheelchair from out of the trunk. He wheeled it up to them and Chyna helped her sit down. She pushed her up the cement ramp while Fletcher followed them behind. They took the elevator up to the fourth floor.
"Wow this is nice," Olive said when they entered the apartment. "Why is there so much stuff? And it's so empty?"
"I just moved in actually," Fletcher said.
"Those flowered pants are cute." She pointed to the box by the kitchen's table that had her clothes in it. "Interesting style choice."
Chyna looked at Fletcher, trying not to laugh. He shot her a death glare.
"Welcome to your home Olive," he announced. "Sorry its a mess. But I'll take care of that as soon as I can."
"Wait? This is your apartment?" Olive asked. "I don't feel comfortable staying here. Especially with a stranger."
"Fletcher's your caretaker remember? He's going to help you," Chyna reminded.
Olive nodded, but her face didn't agree. She gripped the arm rests of her wheelchair and tapped her feet on the wood floor. "I don't know what to do! This is too much for me! Ouch!" She rubbed her head. "What's wrong with me? I can't remember anything."
Chyna knelt in front of Olive's wheelchair. "Everything's okay. You're just experiencing amnesia."
Fletcher watched them with his arms crossed. Chyna seemed to be better equipped for taking care of Olive than him. She knew all the right things to say and do and Olive listened to her.
"Amnesia?" echoed Olive. Fletcher uncrossed his arms, expecting her to say an interesting factoid. "What's amnesia?"
Fletcher's head dropped. The girl he used to be annoyed by her constant factoids, was gone. She didn't say a long winded fact about amnesia, because she had amnesia. She might as well be a stranger to him. I mean that's what he was to her. They were strangers. No longer in love with each other. (Fletcher still was of course, but he might as well not be)
Chyna and Fletcher didn't explain what amnesia was to Olive because she already forgot about it. So instead, she went into one of the rooms that had a mattress on the floor to rest.
"I guess you better head back to L.A.," Fletcher said to Chyna as they made their way to the door.
"No way, you don't think I'm going to leave my best friend like this," Chyna said.
"What about your album? And where are you going to stay?"
"My album can wait and I'll stay at my parent's house."
Fletcher leaned his shoulder against the wall by the front door; his head titled towards the floor. Chyna stepped forward to grab his hand.
"Look, you're going to get through this. We're going to get through this," she comforted.
"She doesn't know me anymore Chyna. She thinks I'm just here to take care of her."
"You are here to take care of her Fletcher. You're her boyfriend whether she knows it or not," said Chyna."And if I know you, you'd do anything for Olive because you love her."
"I do Chyna. I love her so much, but it's hard seeing her like this. I've never wanted to her say an interesting factoid so bad in my life."
"Hey, you can do this," said Chyna. "Call me if you need anything."
Fletcher gave a weak grin before they embraced. "Thanks Chyna. I don't know what I'd do without you." He squeezes her tight, closing his eyes. Chyna's hugs always had healing powers.
"Don't be too hard on yourself," Chyna said as she walked out the door.
"I'll try," Fletcher replied with a full, genuine smile that accentuated the creases near his eyes and then he closed the apartment door.
With his hands in his pockets, he shuffled his feet to the room that Olive was resting in. His instinct was to check up on her. After all it was his duty as her "caretaker." So Fletcher twisted the doorknob slowly then cracked the door open trying not to make any noise. Through the crack, he saw Olive laying on her side. She still had the bandage wrapped around her head. He wanted to sit beside her and stroke her long blonde hair so badly, just to let her know everything would be okay. But of course, if he did that she'd surely smack him like she used to always do back when they were in school.
He just watched her until she turned to the other side and complaining about her head. She touched the bandage, trying to rip it off. She let out a frustrated growl. Fletcher jumped in to help her.
"What's wrong?" he asked, kneeling next to the mattress.
Olive's body jolted and her eyes were so wide they could burst. "Ahhh!" she screamed.
"I'm sorry. Did I scare you?"
Olive sat up, catching her breath. "Yes! What did except to happen when you just barged right in here?"
Fletcher put his hands up. "I know I'm so sorry. I just wanted to check up on you. Do you want me to change your bandage for you?"
Olive's face softened and she nodded with a quivered lip. Fletcher left the room to get a fresh bandage her doctor had given him. Using the instructions he was told, he carefully took off Olive's old bandage. He unraveled the new one and stretched it around her forehead, minding the stitches. As he wrapped her head up, Olive was trying not to look at him. Their faces were very close together-close enough to feel him breathing. And this complete stranger was touching her head and her hair. Looking to the left to avoid his eyes strained her neck, so she turned her head forward. Her eyes were right in line with his mouth.
"There," Fletcher said, smiling. "Hope it's not too tight." He stood on his feet.
Olive opened her mouth, but her words got caught in the back of her throat. "It's perfect," she said.
"Good. Now I'll be out there unpacking stuff, so if you need anything just holler," Fletcher said.
Before Fletcher even closed the door, Olive stopped him. "I'm hungry actually."
He turned around, grinning. "Then let's eat."
Forty minutes later, take out boxes were open on the kitchen's island counter top; Fletcher and Olive sat on stools. Olive shoved noodles in her mouth, slurping them loudly. As Fletcher stirred around his rice and orange chicken, he covered his mouth with a fist, attempting to muffle out his chuckles.
"What?" Olive looked at him with a noodle hanging out of her mouth.
Fletcher pressed his lips together so she wouldn't see him smiling, but the creases by his eyes and his cheek bones said otherwise.
"Nothing you just-" Fletcher shook his head as he walked to the trash can to throw away his takeout box; his smile vanished. "Never mind. When you're done, you can rest. I'll clean up."
Olive got up as soon as he said that, and went back to the room. Fletcher turned around to find her gone and he sighed.
It was going to be tough to treat not Olive as his best friend and the girl he loved.