Page 33 of Forever is Now

I’d order the same each time we were at the pub—a couple of pints, which began to become three or four—and she’d still be there, drinking a lemonade or an orange juice. She never really judged me for my drinking—and I didn’t really realize that I had a problem with it either, because drinking, well, it was the only time—other than when I was with Mia—that I could truly forget my problems. It felt familiar, a glass in my hand. A bottle clutched in my fingers. A crate of cans hugged to my chest. It felt right, and it made me wonder about who I was before. Just a little bit, among the haze.

Although I had access to my social media accounts—Robert Hayden’s—they didn’t go back all that far, and what posts there were, were pretty sparse. There were messages too, friends who’d check in. Friends who I didn’t remember, no matter how many times I looked at their profiles or photos that included them and me.

“Think of it like a game,” Mia said to me one evening. “Like piecing together the story.” My phone was on the bar in front of us, and the pub was loud but not too loud. We could still hear each other, hear ourselves think.

And I replied to her something like, “What if I find out I’m a criminal?” and I laughed, even though I didn’t really feel like laughing, and even though my life wasn’t a game.

But Mia laughed too, and that’s when she said it. She said, “I love you,” and she was still laughing, her warm hand on my arm.

She loves me? I balked and I felt so sweaty all of a sudden. There was a bitter taste in my mouth from the beer I’d been drinking. Suddenly, I wanted to throw up.

But I didn’t. I just looked at this gorgeous woman in front of me. My only true friend. My best friend.

We’d known each other six months, and I couldn’t imagine moving away from her, not seeing her. Mia really was the light in my very dark life. And she loved me.

And so I told her that I loved her too.

We kissed then, the first time. Her lips tasted sugary. I held her gently, and I felt this thing building inside me. This urge to be with her, to never let her go. Of course, I expected to feel something down below too—only I didn’t, and that confused me. Because she was gorgeous, and I should’ve been feeling that.

I didn’t tell her, of course. How could I? When I loved her.

We hung out together more and more. I all but moved into the Wilsons’ family home, leaving the little annex untouched for days. And I realized how much I was relying on Mia.

I was still struggling to sleep, and I was getting these nightmares now too. Really bad ones. Of drowning, of being in water, in darkness. Of a woman shouting my name, but I could never actually hear what she was shouting. It was just this sound, but it stirred something in me. Something frightening.

I’d wake, crying, sometimes, and Mia would be there. Holding me. Telling me it was okay. We figured it was just from the near-drowning I’d had off the coast. She told me over and over that I was lucky to be alive. That I was meant to find her.

It was... We were intimate, after a few months—I think she was surprised how long I waited... but I... God, I can’t believe I’m telling you this... I thought I should’ve liked it more. I just felt awkward... And I always felt like there was this wall between us. Not because of her, but me. This wall that I couldn’t break down, couldn’t get past. It was like I couldn’tfeelthings properly. We’d have sex, and I really wanted to feel something—I was desperate to. But I didn’t. I couldn’t. But it wasn’t like the sex was bad. That was the really confusing thing. It just didn’t really do a lot for me.

I didn’t look forward to it like I thought I should’ve.

Mia said that was okay—not that I really told her everything that was going through my head—and she said that it was the trauma I’d been through. She did research on it, read some of the stuff to me. It made sense, but I also wondered if maybe I was gay or something. Had my accident meant I’d completely ghosted a boyfriend I’d had or something?

When I was with Mia, even though I was absolutely in love with her, I still felt like I wasn’t experiencing attraction in the right way, and this just really fueled my nightmares in a way that I didn’t understand, couldn’t understand. Because I’d hear this woman shouting what I was sure was my name—even though I couldn’t hear what my name was—and then suddenly I’d be out of the water with all that crushing darkness, and I’d be in these castle ruins, and there’d be a man sitting on the ground in front of me. He had like a hammer and all sorts of tools, and he was digging and looking for stones or something, and I just didn’t understand what any of it meant.

That dream kept happening, and I kept feeling so bad. Who was that man? And why wasn’t I dreaming about Mia? I’d told her I loved her, and I really did. Because even though I didn’t feel like I was attracted to her in the way I thought I should be, I was in love with her. I can’t make that clear enough—because everything in my life felt so uncertain and new. Except Mia. She was my familiarity. My home. I wanted to spend all my time with her. I just... I had to be with her.

We had been together for three years, when Mia told me she was pregnant. I was surprised. Like, really. Because we weren’t really sleeping together all that often. When we did, it was her that initiated it, and more often than not, I just did it because I felt that that was expected of me. That was my role.

But then the baby came along—and there was something about seeing Mia pregnant that just made us closer. My baby, growing inside her. Holding her, holding them both. I’ve never loved anyone more.

As time went on, I did start to feel more attracted to her as well, and that in itself was a relief, even though I still felt like I wasn’t feeling it in the right way.

We were still living with the Wilsons when Alex was born, but when he was about a year old, we realized we needed our own space. Mia had quite a bit of money saved up, so we were able to rent a place for ourselves. I was still doing the admin work for her family’s business, and it made sense to continue that—especially as I was the only one earning now. And I really felt like the Wilsons were my family. Really did. Rick and Yvette, they treated me like I was their son. Anything I needed, they were there for me.

About a year later, our second was born. A little girl. And I named her this time, because Mia had chosen Alex’s name, and I... I named our little girl Summer. I never knew where the name came from, still don’t know if it’s a coincidence or not, but... but our girl’s called Summer.

I think that was one of the things that Mia found hardest, when we all learned the truth. Looking at our girl and knowing that she’s most likely named after Summer Taylor-Braddon. That a part of me remembered my past life. That I’m not actually Robert. It’s all just such a mess.

But it wasn’t for another two years until we found out who I was.

Mia was pregnant again. After Alex was born, you see, we’d decided to have a couple more, so we were trying. We got Summer quickly, and that almost made the sex easier for me, like I knew it had a purpose, a function. We’d get a happy baby at the end—and I discovered I loved being a dad. It’s like I was made to be a dad.

It took longer, with our... our third. And Mia was five months pregnant, and little Summer, well, she wasn’t well.

She’d been quite a sickly baby. In and out of hospital. But she’d just been diagnosed with a condition and it meant that me and Mia also had to get tested. There were so many tests, and I can’t even remember at this point how it came out, but it turned out the real Robert Hayden had had some DNA tests done before. They were on the hospital system, so he must’ve had it done in Australia, before he went missing, before I inadvertently took over his life. And then something in my bloods showed a mismatch and—and I wasn’t him. It was as quick as that. One click of the computer screen, a doctor looking at me with a confused face. And my whole life—the last six years that I’d been living as Robert Hayden—everything was just upended. Again.

Dante Fiore: That must’ve been quite a shock.

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