Page 64 of A Me and You Thing
We stare at each other with furrowed brows for several moments.
“I’m fine,” I say again. I mean, I’m me. I’m not crazy or mentally damaged. I know that for certain.
“No, you’re not. Humor me. I can’t lose you all over again.”
I get it, I really do. But I’m aching to return to normal life. It’s dawning on me that it won’t happen overnight. I’m having a hard time accepting it. “Everything feels like one long nightmare now. But, I’m home... I didn’t die... I’m here.”
He caresses my hand. “Quinn,” he says, his voice hoarse. “I can hardly believe it. Is this really happening?”
“It already happened.”
“Don’t leave me again.”
“Never. Thank you for staying with me. I couldn’t be without you for one more minute.”
His features are ravaged with emotion, and he looks very tired. “You’re alive. Do you know what that means to me? I can’t leave your side. I keep thinking this is a dream, and I’ll wake up to find out none of it was real. I’m scared to sleep... I can hardly sleep.” His voice is husky. He pauses to pinch the bridge of his nose. His eyes well with tears, but none fall. He leans down and places his forehead on mine. “I don’t know how to feel or how to act. I don’t know what to say or what to do. I’ve been so... lost without you. It was like the lights went out and I’ve been living in darkness. I can’t believe this has happened. It doesn’t feel real.”
“It’s real. I’m real.”
He kisses my forehead, lifts his head up and observes me again. “I’ve never stopped loving you, never stopped missing you, Quinn. Never. I can’t stop myself from saying it over and over. I love you, I love you.”
“I love hearing it.” His eyebrows are still deeply furrowed. He seems almost... tormented. I want to reach up and wipe that concerned expression off his face. I want to see him smile. I wish I hadn’t made him endure such turmoil. “I’m so sorry.”
He shakes his head. “No. Don’t apologize. None of this is your fault.”
“When my memories returned, all I wanted to do was get home to you and our babies. Please take me home so I can see them.”
“I will.” He hesitates. I know tough questions are begging for answers in his mind. “Quinn, where were you all this time? I need to know. Are you up to talking about it? If you can’t, I understand.”
I reach up and caress his face. My IV is dramatically taped to my arm as if it was trying to escape. I’d really like to have it removed. But, right now I know I need to fill in the blanks and put his mind at ease. “I wasn’t sexually assaulted.” Let’s get that off the table first thing.
He closes his eyes and breathes a sigh of relief. I know his imagination must’ve been on overdrive as he wondered what had happened to me and where I’ve been. Human trafficking is an issue in the world today. I’m sure his mind went there. When I think about how vulnerable I was, I’m grateful my story didn’t go in that direction.
“The doctors couldn’t find any evidence of abuse. Neglect, yes. Abuse, no,” he tells me.
I can’t maintain eye contact. I look away and I slowly begin to tell him bits and pieces about my life over the past two years.
I start from the beginning. The bus driver. The beer. The accident.
All of it comes pouring out.
It’s after the accident that the story becomes so simple, yet so complicated...
Part three
She Was Lost
Chapter Twenty-one
Niña
After six months in Nicaragua
MI RELOJAWAKENS me at four AM. I rise up out of my bed, every joint aching in the chilly air. I don’t want to get up. I want to stay in bed and sleep into oblivion. I’m so tired—alwayscansado.
But I get up anyway. I have so manyquehaceresto do. Sun up to sundown. Chores and more chores. Same thing. Every day. Wash, rinse, repeat. I often feel like a sleepwalker going about my daily chores, yet I never fully awaken.
“Niña,ándale.”
