Chapter Five

Madeline’s POV

(Many weeks later)

What I know about the outdoors may be limited, but I already know I love it. Especially when the night turns dark and I’m supposed to be in bed. Andrew has let me stay at his apartment to make sure I won’t need any more medical attention. He helps me with daily tasks and getting used to walking again. I mean, being confined to one room and a stiff bed wasn’t an ideal workout place.

The staff was kind, don’t get me wrong, but I’m sure no one wants to stay in a stuffy room on a creaky hospital bed if given a choice. I wasn’t completely left off the hook since I was labeled as a reckless driver, and now either my Mother or Andrew must drive me everywhere. But today is the day I get reacquainted with my old home, right after my appointment of course.

So here I am, closing my car door as Andrew parks, ready to meet my psychotherapist.

I’ve heard that he is around the same age as me, if not older, and should be able to help me sort out my memories. We will try to revisit what I do know and what my Mother has told me in order to somewhat piece my life together.

After filling out private information in the waiting room and sitting on a sleek chair equipped with armrests, he finally walks into the room. He slicks back his neat brown curls, contrary to Andrew's light ones, and flashes a comforting smile.

“Hello, my name is Edward Rivera and I’ll be your personal psychotherapist these next few weeks to help you recover.”

Wow. A Scottish accent. Fancy.

He takes a seat in the chair beside me, motioning with a clipboard in hand. He asks me a lot of personal questions, separating them into columns, and going over them one by one.

He asks me to be honest with him, and I try my best, but it feels like just another stranger in my life that I am required to rely on. It’s so difficult for me to trust anyone recently since, for all I know, my entire memory is based on what they know of me.

How can I be original with myself when all I’ve been told is who I once was? Do I need to fit into that mold?

I watch as his hand scribbles certain phrases I've remarked throughout the session down on paper. Memories are said to slowly piece themselves back together, as I try my best to imagine my childhood based on what my mother has told me.

I still feel like I'm missing everything, my "past life" and all the people in it. It is absolutely terrible to have been robbed of the memories that have shaped you and made your life worth living.

I’m also going to be tested for anxiety and other disorders since that might be a trait I had before the crash. Or perhaps, a trait that either got heightened due to the crash or developed because of it. We go through exercises and journal entries I can do for the weeks to come, to help me gain control of my own mind.

After my long and deep session, I leave the building feeling refreshed. Andrew takes notice and gets out of the car to open the door for me. I pondered aloud what he had been doing in the hours of my session, afraid he had wasted time sitting in a car. He chuckled lightly and said he instead spent his time at the gym, only returning to pick me up.

He said it worked out perfectly since the facilities are located in the same general area. I’m just glad I’m not taking up more of his time. I feel honored that he didn’t leave me despite my shattered memories.

But he still doesn’t feel… mine.

I understand that we were in love once, and I’m willing to try and be in love again, but I need to get to know this guy from the beginning.

I feel like a character on a massive board game who only recently joined despite other players having a head start. I feel so… behind. Like I need to catch up on my role and who I am. Most of all, I feel as if I hurt others by joining late. My mother took an emotional toll, having to explain my past to me all at once, and I can only imagine what Andrew is going through. I’m overwhelmingly grateful that he has stayed by my side, but I wouldn’t mind knowing more about him.

I’d be lying if I said that I don’t find this stranger attractive, but I think I need a friend before a significant other.

The man in question spares me a thoughtful glance and asks, “So, how’d the appointment go?”

---

Andrew’s POV

On the ride to her old er- new… home, Madeline tells about her psychotherapist. He will be spending a lot of time with her these next weeks to sort out her memories and give her the mental health care that she needs.

All professional work of course. What idiot would think otherwise?

Hahaha.

*AHEM*

As long as he does his job and helps my girl, then I’m okay with it. I mean, he’s only... really tall, speaks in a smooth accent, has emerald-colored eyes, spends more time with her, and gets paid for it. I know that much about him already, all from Madeline.

This is fine. I have no right to be jealous when I haven’t even gotten Madeline to like me anyway.

I mean, Madeline wouldn’t just fall for someone out of both of our leagues right?!

I know she wouldn’t.

Well, I know past her wouldn’t...

Upon arriving at her apartment, I remind her how to enter in and we take a cautious step inside. She gasps and I recoil in surprise, blinking multiple times in shock. It's as if a tornado swept up all her items, destroying everything in its path.

"What in the world happened here?!" she exclaims, picking up a broken picture frame gingerly, careful not to cut herself on the jagged shards. “This… isn’t how I normally live… right?”

“Nonono don’t worry you're usually more… organized than this.” I slowly divert my gaze.

So that’s how she reacted to the breakup…

We both get to work cleaning up the mess in silence, both of us reflecting on the absurd amount of damage caused. I can see the uncertainty and confusion furrowing her brows as she sweeps up broken glass from her kitchen tiles. I feel so guilty, she could’ve cut herself on the glass, or did even worse. I should’ve done so much more to make sure she didn’t get hurt or hurt herself.

ENOUGH.

These past weeks I have already guilt-tripped myself enough. Now I should focus on regaining and rekindling our friendship. I won’t force her to like me again, I just want my best friend back.

"Hey uhm, by the way, Maddie- er I mean, Madeline, would you like to hang out sometime next week?" I say shaking slightly and stumbling on my words.

My slip of the tongue doesn’t go unnoticed as blood rushes to her cheeks and gaps to reply.

Before she immediately, and inevitably, rejects me I ramble, "I mean, if it's alright with you I know you just came out of the hospital recently and are still recovering and I bet your love life is the last thing on your list but I mean, I don't know what goes on in your head especially since you lost your memory and probably think I'm some creepy stalker, which I'm not, but if you don't want to get to know me, er, again then-"

Urghhh what if she rejects me this early? She technically can’t reject me since we are dating but she doesn’t know me, I mean, we only started talking after she returned from the hospital.

Even so, I’ve been planning this date for over a month. What to say, what to wear, will I make a good impression? A good enough impression? Who am I kidding, Madeline doesn’t deserve “good” she deserves-

"Sure."

I blink twice before turning to her.

Wait what?! She’s… fine with this?

"Great, I'll see you on Saturday this week? We can maybe go to the carnival’s seasonal fair, I’ll pick you up at 7?" I rub a hand behind the back of my neck, nervously awaiting her approval.

She nods and I break into the cheesiest grin in human history.

Alright, it’s a date.