Page 53 of Help Me Remember
“So, what do I think about?”
“Let the thoughts come and go. Whatever they are. Just let it go in and out, not lingering on anything.”
Brielle lets out a deep breath, her clenched hands relax, and she nestles deeper into the makeshift pillow of sand under her.
I take a second and just watch her, staring at her long blonde hair fanning out around her. I would do anything to kiss her or feel her body against mine, but I need to be patient.
This isn’t exactly something I’m good at.
“Deep breath,” I coax her. “In and out. Relax and listen to my voice.” She does as I ask, giving me her trust. I move closer, lying on my side, and brush my finger down her face. “Easy, just breathe.”
Yamina always kept a hand on her patient. She was always soothing them, so I’m allowing myself this small bit.
Minutes go by, and I continue to speak softly and caress her. Brielle is relaxed enough that I want to try to push her memory.
“Tell me what’s in your thoughts.”
“They keep moving,” she whispers.
“What do you see right now?”
“I see a car, a red one.”
I use every ounce of restraint I have not to push her harder and just allow her to speak.
“It has two doors and no backseat.”
“So, it’s small?”
“Yes, it’s little. It’s really beautiful, and I want to drive it.”
“Okay, anything else?”
“Isaac is outside of it.”
Isaac purchased a car that Addison hated. She said it was impractical and stupid, but he was so excited about it. He had always wanted a little red sports car, so it was like he was living the dream. Three days later, Addy found out she was pregnant, and he sold it a week later—to me.
That car sits in my garage and is only driven on special occasions.
“Do you drive it, Brie?”
“No, not then, at least. He won’t even let me in it.”
And he hadn’t. She’d been mad at him for a week.
“What does he say?”
“He claims I’m not a good enough driver.” There’s laughter in her voice. “Addison is really pissed, too. She keeps saying he needs to take it back.”
I come into the memory at about this point. I wait, holding my breath.
When she doesn’t, I urge her further. “Does he?”
“I don’t . . . know.”
“You’re doing great,” I say, close enough that I can feel her heat. I move my hand to her cheek, resting it there lightly. She tilts into my touch, and I am desperate for her. I want to feel her lips so badly it’s fucking killing me. “What’s happening, Brie?” I ask, forcing myself to speak so I don’t do what I want.
But then she moves her face closer to mine. I inhale her breath as we both share the same air. She’s so close, and I want her so much. I move my thumb across her cheek.
