I slide into the booth across from Bryan, studying his face, hoping for some sort of memory to be jogged. His hair is messier than it was last night and there is a fresh layer of stubble on his cheeks. He looks like he got just about as much sleep as the rest of us. There is no sudden flare in my chest. I try to reach out to him with my heart, looking for something hidden away, a reminder that this is the man that I wanted to build a life with.
“You look so different. I miss the blonde. You loved being blonde.”
I touch my dark tresses, fingers tangling with my curls before tossing them over my shoulder and letting out a long, steadying breath. Maybe I had liked being blonde, but for the last four months, it hasn’t felt like me.
“I didn’t come here to talk about my hair. How did we meet?” I feel like I’m playing twenty-one questions as I ask Bryan about our relationship.
“I guess I have to fill you in on our whole lives together since you don’t remember me at all. Amnesia, really? I thought that was just something that happened in books and movies or on soap operas.” Bryan rubs his hands on his jeans, lifting his eyes to mine.
A waitress stops by and asks if we would like anything. We both just order coffee. I can’t imagine keeping any food down.
“So, we met a few years ago at a bookshop. You looked so cute and I just wanted to get to know you, so I took a chance. I picked up a book you had looked at and then put down. I scribbled my number in it and I told you it was such a great book because the characters were so real, and you bought it. That night you texted and asked if I was the bookstore guy. The rest is kind of history.”
He pauses when the waitress delivers our coffees. I glance at Charlie and see him nursing a glass with a clear amber liquid in it. I can’t think about that so I focus back on Bryan.
“Getting married just seemed like the natural next step. You basically lived in my apartment. You only kept yours as an office during the day when you weren’t temping. You said my apartment was too loud because of the fucktards across the hall in 6E. There wasn’t a big engagement party or ring; you never were materialistic and you said our love was the only thing that mattered. We were in bed when I proposed. I pressed a kiss to your birthmark, and we spent the rest of the day making love.”
My cheeks flush because the mention of my birthmark confirms that this man has most definitely seen me naked. I stay silent, willing him to fill the empty air with more information and he obliges.
“You were going to give up your apartment when we got married. We were planning on getting married on Valentine's Day. We were starting to try for a baby when, well, I guess when your accident happened. You were hesitant, you weren’t sure, but I convinced you that we didn’t need money or anything because our love was enough.”
My hands, which rest in my lap, press to my lower stomach, a gesture I’m sure he can’t see. This just doesn’t jibe with me or anything I have known about myself the past few months. But is that because I was with Charlie and not Bryan? I just don’t know. So, I decide it’s time to find out about that fateful night.
“What about the fight? Why would I leave in the middle of a storm?”
“It was stupid. Some of my work buddies had invited me out for my bachelor party. With the fall coming, work was going to get busy so we did it then. They took me to a strip club and the waitress kissed me. One of the guys took a photo of it and sent it to me. I told you about it right away just to let you know it didn’t mean anything.”
He reaches out for where my hands are around the coffee I haven’t touched. He squeezes my fingers and looks like it pains him to remember the day.
“This was at the end of September. The fight was unlike anything that we had ever had. You told me you needed space and to not call. You said that you would call me. I told you that you should just stay but you were stubborn and you grabbed your helmet and left in the middle of a thunderstorm. I tried to chase after you but you wouldn’t listen. Watching you ride away from me broke my heart. When you blocked my number and didn’t answer at your apartment, I thought that it was completely over and it broke my heart all over again. And...and now I get to see you again.” He reaches out and touches my face, his fingertips rough on my cheek. There is no spark of familiarity there, but he knows things that only someone I have been intimate with would know.
“Come home to me,” he says and my eyes lock on his, searching for that recognition.
I consider it, the words of Charlie’s father echoing in my head. I think about letting Charlie free of constantly having to fight with his friends and family over my presence in his life. I think about how much easier it would be for him if he could talk to his best friend again without having to constantly jump to my defense. How he could save himself the battles with me over spending money and working late that haven’t come yet, but still might. I tell myself that this is for Charlie, that I’m removing the thing that has him at odds with those he loves. Without me, his life can go back to normal, the way it was before I crashed into his life.
“I don’t know,” I whisper, but I already know the answer is yes. I need tonight to say goodbye to Charlie and to let him go. To say goodbye to the life I thought I was going to have with him.
“Come home with me,” he pushes.
“I have things and kittens and...” My voice catches in my throat. Still, I hand him my phone for him to program his number into.
“Bring your stuff but I’m allergic to cats. Leave them where they are. Cats hate to be moved anyway.”
I swallow the lump in my throat as I think of Bonsai and Mochi at home, probably sleeping and snuggled together. I think of how they have spent most nights curled in the crease of my hip.
Bryan hands me back my phone and then rises and then, without hesitation, presses a kiss to the top of my head. I can’t miss how his eyes drop to my lips, though, and I’m glad when he doesn’t pursue that.
“I still have all your stuff. Part of me was always hoping you would come back; that we would talk and be able to clear the air. You were my whole world. I quit smoking for you.” He waves the pack at me. “Not that it stuck. I slipped back after you left. I’ve been a mess. I need you.”
His hand cups my cheek and I hate myself for comparing him to Charlie. Bryan’s hands are rough and calloused like a manual laborer. Charlie’s hands are soft and smooth, made that way by sneaking moisturizer and working at a computer.
Bryan drops a few bucks on the table, enough for his coffee.
“Call me when you want to come home to me.”
I watch Bryan leave, feeling more confused than before. I thought this was going to give me more answers, but instead I have more questions. Charlie turns and sees it written all over my face. This time he’s the one who won’t meet my eye. He turns back to his drink, knocking it back before dropping a fifty on the counter without a second thought. I leave money on my table for my coffee and the tip.
“Let’s go home,” Charlie says, holding his hand out to me. I slip my fingers in his hand, trying to commit the feel of him to memory.