It has been exactly 1 year 1 month and 1 day since the accident.
She exhaled deeply as she stared to the vast horizon of the beach. This was where she felt like she could be who she really want to be. And not what was expected of her.
Her mind wandered to the first day she woke up in the hospital. She remembered how terrified she was when there were so many unfamiliar faces by her bed side. They were all very concerned as they tried to hold her hands, touch her cheek, tuck her hair and more, but she held back. After all, she didn’t like to be touched by people she didn’t know.
“Don’t you remember me?”
They had asked. Her eyes darted around the room scanning each face, hoping that there would be something familiar, but there wasn’t. She didn’t recognise them, but they sure looked as though they knew her. They were somehow more concerned about what she could remember rather than her physical state.
According to her doctors, she was considered lucky to even be alive. After several intensive surgeries, they fixed most of her, but they didn’t fix her brain completely. Losing her memory was probably something she had to live forever, the doctors said.
“J.J” A voice behind her startled her.
She turned on impulse, although that was not her name. Not her real name, at least. She didn’t like ‘Jacqueline’, but everyone else decided that she should use her real name in hopes that it sparked her memories somehow. Everyone but this young lady who was pacing towards her.
Lianne was the only person she kept in contact several months after the accident. After she left the hospital, she was invited to a lot of meet-up sessions. Every single conversation hovered around what they could make her remember; an object, a person, a place.. something. But she couldn’t. As time went by, she stopped meeting up with other friends because she had to sit quietly and pretend to smile at the memories she didn’t remember. It was taking a toll on her, and so she started distancing herself from everyone. Everyone but the person sitting next to her.
“How are you feeling today?” Lianne asked.
She kept silent for a moment before she finally confided: “I kept feeling like something was missing.”
A weak smile.
“You still don’t know who Mr X is, do you?”
Mr X. A few weeks before her accident, she had confided in Lianne about him and how he made her heart raced like no one else did. Oddly, she did wake up with a void in her heart. As though someone was missing, but she didn’t know who. And now the void had a name. Not a day had passed without her wondering about the life she could have with him; to fall in love, marry, and live happily ever after. And most importantly, to finally feel whole again.
She didn’t answer. And so, they sat side by side in silence, as they watched the sun setting beyond the horizon.
“Maybe you should let the illusion of him go.” Lianne suggested.
“Maybe.” She said, as a tear slid down her cheek. Tomorrow he would show up, she promised herself everyday. But no one did.
After all, this was the love story that never happened.
In response to: Daily Prompt: Clean House
Is there “junk” in your life? What kind? How do you get rid of it?
Photographers, artists, poets: show us JUNK.
My favourite response: Not a True Story by JC McBride