Page 19 of It's a Date (Again)

The door squeaks open, and Robbie walks out with a throw blanket over his shoulder, a plate of food in one hand, and two bottles of water clenched between his forearm and his chest. He leans down, and I retrieve the waters from him. Robbie takes a seat and splays the blanket over both of us.

“It’s nice out here,” I say.

“It’s why you wanted it. The private outdoor space.”

“I feel like I knew that.” I bite into my sandwich, chewing slowly and savoring the taste. His eyes linger on me for a moment before he starts eating. We sit in silence while we eat and sip our water, listening to a mix of sounds from both the city and nature. There’s the trafficfrom the main road at the end of the street. The cars whoosh. There’s a bird chirping and a breeze rustling branches and fallen leaves. Car horns honk intermittently. A dog barks in the distance. Somehow, it all blends together seamlessly.

“How are you feeling?” he asks.

I think he’ll keep asking until I give him a real answer. Something with more substance than “Fine” or “Okay.” I sip my water, trying to form a response.

“Confused. Sad. Curious. Frustrated. Angry. Worried. Anxious. I think those are some of the things I’m feeling.” I shrug and set my plate down on the table. There’s a couple of bites left, but for some reason I don’t want them. Maybe it’s too hard to swallow anything right now.

“That’s understandable,” he says. “But I think you’ll be back to normal in no time.”

I turn my head toward Robbie, studying his face. Does he really believe that, or is he just being hopeful? “Why do you think that?” I ask.

His brows shove together as he stares back at me. “Because you’re Peyton. You’re the strongest person I know.”

“I don’t feel very strong.”

“You are, though.”

“Are you trying to make me feel better?”

“No, I mean it.” Robbie pops the last bite of his sandwich in his mouth and chews happily.

“You can have the rest of mine too.” I gesture to my plate.

The corner of his lip perks up. “You haven’t changed a bit.”

“What do you mean?”

“You always leave two bites of food on your plate, so I always finish them.” Robbie picks up my leftover hunk of sandwich and tosses it in his mouth.

I furrow my brow. “Really?”

“Yep,” he says, dusting his hands off.

Knowing that pieces of me are still here is comforting, like I’m still me even though I don’t remember who me is. I lean back into the cushion and watch the sun slide past the horizon. The sky begins to darken, and a set of tiny string lights wrapped around the length of the balcony railing flicker on. Robbie picks up both our plates and stands.

“What would you like to do now?”

I look up at Robbie and crack a smile. “Want to watch that movie Maya was talking about, the one she said she’d give up all her memories to see for the first time again?”

“The Sixth Sense?” He nods and laughs. “Yeah, let’s do it.”

“What?” I jump from my seat, nearly spilling the bowl half-full of popcorn. “He was dead the whole time!” Robbie pauses the television. Bruce Willis’s stunned face fills the screen. Pacing the living room, I put my hands on either side of my head, holding it. Robbie grabs the bowl and tosses kernels of popcorn into his mouth, chuckling.

“This is more shocking than when I realized I had no memories earlier today.” I laugh.

“I don’t know about that.” Robbie grins.

“Were you this surprised the first time you saw it?”

“Oh yeah. Most everyone was.”

“Incredible. I wish I could watch it for the first time again.”

---