Page 72 of Remember Me

“Come on, chica.” I looked up to find Remi beside me, keys in hand.

Me:fine but I’m not happy about this

The administration offices were housed in a red-brick building in the center of campus. The parking lot in front of it was empty. Remi pulled into a spot and we emerged. I walked up to the huge white wooden door and opened it. The antechamber that we found ourselves in was empty.

“Now what?” I glanced around hoping for a clue, but saw nothing to give me any hint to Hayes’s presence.

Remi walked to the elevator. “Let’s try this,” she said. Following her on, I slanted her a suspicious glance.

“Why do I get the feeling that you know something?”

“I don’t know what you mean.” She studied the buttons. “Which one, do you think?”

“Why don’t you choose?” I said dryly.

With a shrug she pressed three and the elevator started to move.

At the third floor, the doors opened into what looked like the foyer for a well-appointed office. I stepped out and glanced side to side. It was dim and quiet, and I saw no one about. The inner offices looked to be locked up for the holidays, the windowed doors leading into them black and blank. Turning back to the elevator, I started to tell Remi that we needed to make another selection. She waggled her fingers at me as the metal doors slid shut between us.

“Unbelievable.” I shook my head and crossed my arms over my chest. “Now what?”

“Now we talk.” Hayes’s voice broke into my irritation and I found him standing at the entrance to a short hallway to the left.

I ignored the painful thud of my heart and straightened to my full five foot two. “Why here?”

He leaned against the frame of the hall and gestured to one of the visitor chairs. “It was the only way I could get you listen. Please sit.”

“I prefer to stand.”

He gave a sigh of exasperation and walked further into the room to seat himself on a sofa. “I owe you an apology, Birdie, and an explanation.”

“I do not want or need either.” I struggled to maintain a distant attitude. It was fine.

“No. You do. You don’t understand what you saw —”

Anger flared, bright and burning and I gave it its lead. “I understand it perfectly well. What I saw broke my heart, Hayes. Not once, but twice. Once when it happened, and again when I remembered it. Do you even know why I was there that evening? I had just found out we were going to have a baby, and I couldn’t wait to tell you. I was so happy.” I stabbed the button for the elevator. Once. Twice. A third time. “And then I saw her.”

Hayes was suddenly between me and the elevator, his large hands gripping my upper arms. “I tried to tell you then, and you ran. I tried to explain when you remembered, and you ran again. You’re not running today, Birdie. Listen to me.” He bent and glared, his words urgent and impossible to ignore. “You didn’t see what you think you saw. I would never do that to you, love. Never.”

I rubbed my forehead, weary suddenly. “We’ve been over this before, Hayes. I told you. I believe you. It doesn’t change the fact that you lied to me. And it hurts.”

“Lied? I told you the truth, Birdie!”

I looked at him in disbelief. “You knew, Hayes! You knew the circumstances behind my accident and you never told me. You hid the truth behind my memory loss and if I hadn’t remembered on my own, you never would have said a word. That’s a lie.”

“That’s not true.” His voice was tortured. “I was going to tell you. I just needed you to love me again before I did. You needed to have a reason to stay.”

I pulled my arms gently from his grasp and put distance between us. “Well, congratulations. You succeeded in making me fall for you all over again.” My voice broke and I swiped at a tear angrily.

“I’m sorry, Birdie. I never wanted to hurt you.” Hayes sat again on the sofa and patted the cushion beside him. “Please. Sit. Talk to me, and when we finish, I promise if it’s what you want, I’ll let you go.”

An image of Serena in the shop days earlier flashed across my mind. After a brief hesitation, I sat. “Talk.”

I folded my hands on my lap to still their trembling and I waited. He stood up and began to pace in front of me, almost like a lawyer presenting his final argument.

“Okay, so I’ve already explained what happened. You’ve indicated you understand, and that you believe me. Is that correct?” He looked to me for confirmation and I nodded. I did. I believed him. He drew in a breath and continued. “When you left, I asked myself where I fucked up. It took me a little while, but eventually I figured it out. It wasn’t...it isn’t...a question of trust. It might have been initially, but you know now. I don’t see anyone else but you.” As he spoke, he darted searching glances my way, as if to check that I was listening. “It wasn’t a matter of trust. Regardless of whether you trust me or not, you have every right to request that I not work in proximity to a woman sexually harassing me. I would ask the same of you. More than likely after I kicked someone’s ass.” He stopped to stand before me, making me lift my face to look at him. “It took me a minute to figure out that it was about something very different a question of choice. I didn’t choose you; I chose my job.”

I closed my eyes. I hadn’t fully realized until later that’s what I had needed. I had lived most of my life feeling the opposite of chosen. Mom had chosen a fleeting love affair over loyalty to her family. My father had chosen his grief over me. More recently, my mother had chosen to move and begin a new life rather than stay with me.

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