Page 16 of It's a Date (Again)

“They just say that to make the patient feel better,” Maya huffs.

I flick my hands and glare at each of them. “Will you guys stop talking about me like I’m not in the room?”

Robbie lowers his head and takes a seat in the chair beside me. “I’m sorry.”

Maya sits down. “I’m sorry too.”

He lifts his chin, staring back at me. “I’m just worried about you, that’s all. I don’t think it’s a good idea, and I want you to get better.”

Maya leans forward in her seat. “Well, it’s Peyton’s decision. Not yours, Robbie.”

I look to Robbie. I could wait, hope that my memories return, and hope that the man I do love is still waiting for me. My gaze flips to Maya. Or I could see how this plays out and trust that my heart can steer me in the right direction even though my mind can’t remember what direction that is.

“So, what do you want to do?” Robbie asks.

They both want the best for me, even though they want different things. Robbie seems more analytical, which makes sense considering his job. He thinks of risk and uncertainty first. Maya is more go with the flow, see where life takes you, live in the moment. They’re like yin and yang, complete opposites. I see the excitement in Maya’s big brown eyes. She wants me to find happiness and love and believes that I need to do this now. I see concern in Robbie’s, making his blue eyes a little dimmer. It’s like he’s pleading with me to take it easy, rest, heal, and then worry about finding love later. The accident may have stolen all my memories, but it did teach me one thing: nothing in life is guaranteed ... not evenlater.

“I want to date them again,” I say firmly, so they know there’s no changing my mind. “I think I owe it to myself to find out who I was running to the night of the accident.”

Robbie sighs and sinks back into his chair. Maya lets out a tiny squeal.

“If that’s what you want,” he says.

I fold my hands in my lap and nod. “It is what I want.”

Robbie shoots me a disappointed look. “But I don’t support it.”

I give the smallest shrug in return.

The nurse from earlier enters the room. “Hi, Peyton. Are you ready to go home?”

I don’t say yes because I don’t know what home is or where it is.Do I live alone? In an apartment? A house? Will it feel like home to me?I force my head to go up and down.

She grabs the clipboard from the end of the bed and reads through a couple of pages, going over each medication, listing side effects, when I should take them, and with food or not. Thankfully, Robbie and Maya are listening intently because, for me, it’s going in one ear and out the other. All I can think about is whether my memories will come back and what will happen if they never do.

Robbie parallel parks his car on a tree-lined street. It’s a beautiful neighborhood, quiet, but not one I recognize.

He shuts the engine off and turns to me, saying, “We’re home.”

“Yeah.Home,” I say with zero confidence.

I feel like a baby bird that jumped out of the nest too soon, trying to navigate a world I’m unfamiliar with. I glance at the townhomes that sit tightly next to one another, lining both sides of the street. Some are modern, recently built, while others maintain their old structure of brick and concrete, a mix of the past and present. Nearly all the homeshave fenced-in courtyards. If you asked me to tell you which one was mine, I couldn’t point it out.

“Do I live alone?”

Robbie’s eyes widen with disbelief as though he’s realizing how little I actually know about myself. He quickly relaxes, trying to maintain his calm composure, and nods.

“Yes, you live on the top level of that duplex right there.” He points to a house just in front of our vehicle off to the left. It’s cute and charming, with a large porch and a set of steps leading up to it. Unlike the newer homes on the street, it retains its old facade of tan brick and black-trimmed windows. Two doors stand side by side, each painted a bright red. There’s a small grassy area in front. It’s fenced in with a black iron gate. Green vines wrap up and around the spires, a melding of nature’s creation and man’s.

“Who lives in the bottom unit?” I ask.

“Debbie. She rents the top one to you. But we haven’t been able to get ahold of her. I think she’s out of town.”

I don’t know who that is, so I don’t ask. I’m still trying to keep my three boyfriends straight in my head. Nash the cook. He has tattoos and looks like some singer that Maya said was a dog. Shawn the consultant, or as Maya called him, ayoung Denzel. Tyler the construction worker. I think she said he looked like Shore or Roar. I don’t remember. She made me flash cards and told me to review them, but I think they’re making me more confused.

I open the car door and step outside, holding it to steady myself. It all feels a little wobbly. The world, that is.

Robbie peers over the top of the car. “Are you okay?”

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