Page 91 of Help Me Remember

“Could I still…talk to him?”

“Probably. And maybe in the future you could even see him, I don’t know. So much of it is unknown for everyone involved right now.”

Eric’s mouth worked nervously. “And…you?”

“I’m pretty much out of commission for good. Even if I hadn’t lost my whole memory, I was too compromised to continue what I was doing. And anywhere they put me in the US, I would risk being recognized. They’re going to send me somewhere overseas, on indefinite leave until they can determine that I’m fit to do something again,” I said, still not sure how I felt about that. If my short time at Eric’s had taught me anything, I wasn’t very good at being left on my own with little to do.

“Could…if I take the protection, could I come with you wherever you go?” Eric asked quietly.

I had presented the same question to Ivy, and all she had said was that she would look into it. A gleam in her eye told me I would probably have my way, but she didn’t want to promise anything. That at least fit with the rest of her personality, and I had let the matter drop.

“We’re going to have to see, but even if it’s yes, and I’m kinda thinking it will be,” I added quickly. Ivy might not want to make promises, but I didn’t want to leave Eric without even a crumb of hope. “it wouldn’t be for a little while. There’s a lot they still have to figure out.”

Eric nodded, running his hand through my hair. “Do we have tonight at least?”

“We do,” I told him. I’d rather get myself arrested than let them take this away from us.

“Then we’ll tell them what we want and see what happens,” he said softly. “But just in case, let’s…enjoy this while we have it, okay? It’s probably the only time we’ve had when we can just be, at least without worrying about the next threat coming our way.”

“Deal,” I said, threading our fingers together and closing my eyes to bask in just being around him.

There was still so much in our future that was uncertain and unknown. I’d grown almost accustomed to not knowing much about my past, so long as I had Eric there to help guide me, and perhaps as someone, something I could focus on. Now I was facing a potential future where he wouldn’t be there, and the thought turned my stomach in knots every time I thought about it.

But Eric was right. The best we could do was not to obsess over the past or worry about the future but to take the present while we had it. I focused my attention on the soft sound of his breathing and the warmth of his fingers wrapped around mine. At least for now, I had him here, and we were safe.

Despite everything, we had passed the finish line, and we could have this.

Even if it wasn’t forever, we had this.

EPILOGUE

Eighteen Months Later

Squinting, I stepped onto the balcony and peered out at the city. It seemed to stretch on forever, much farther than Port Dale ever had while I’d lived there, but it did remind me a little of Chicago. It was far warmer than Chicago had ever dreamed of being in the middle of December, and I could only imagine how desperately hot it would become in another six months or so.

Still, São Paulo had a charm I couldn’t deny. The city practically seethed with life and energy. I could hear my neighbors’ conversations a couple of floors below, voices carrying up from their balconies or drifting out from their open windows. The language was familiar, and I listened to the rolling cadence of their conversations, enjoying the sound rather than eavesdropping.

I had only been living in the city for a month, but I had to admit, it was growing on me fast. There was something about the people that I found incredibly charming, even if their warm and friendly natures had thrown me off at first. Maybe it was just because their friendliness and openness reminded me of Eric, but it hadn’t taken me long to grow incredibly fond of them.

The thought tugged a cord in my chest, and I turned to check the clock on the wall in the small living room behind me. The apartment wasn’t huge, but the whole point was to blend in among the millions of people in the city. It was just enough space for one person or a couple of moderate means to live comfortably without drawing attention to themselves.

It was, in short, the perfect size.

My anxiety cranked up when I saw it was already ten past five, but I turned my head away, forcing myself to look at the city. I focused on the sights, the glittering of the sunlight on the waterways that ran through it, and the music of my neighbors’ conversations. After about a minute, I felt the tension in my body finally give out and dwindle away.

“Remind me never to tell Ivy that therapy was a good idea,” I muttered, leaning on the railing to peer down at the street.

Therapy had been one of several requirements from my boss. They had run every scan, done every test, and poked enough holes in me for blood and other fluids to leave me feeling like an overused pin cushion. In the end, they decided that if my memory was going to come back, it would come back on its own when it damn well pleased, if it did at all.

Thankfully, therapy proved much more effective than every other medical specialist. Despite my insistence that I could handle things, I finally gave in and talked to the therapist they assigned me. She wasn’t much good at digging up memories, but at the very least, she’d shown me I was not as good at handling things as I thought.

For the long stretches when I was left to my own devices, save for those assigned to watch me, my mind would race. Even minor stresses, like being unable to open a drawer, could send me into a meltdown that forced me to breathe or rip something off its hinges in frustration. So, I was taught to exist in the present, ground myself, and try to let things happen. As stupid as it sounded, I was pleased and annoyed that it worked.

I heard the rattle of the doorknob and turned, heart rate picking up. Despite the safety and the expected arrival, I was never quite sure if I would ever be completely safe. There were things left for me in the house, emergency funds, a gun, as well as an emergency passport I could use if things went south, but I hoped never to have to use them.

A thump, far heavier than I should hear, shot my attempts to calm myself in the foot, and I straightened. That was until I heard a familiar and extremely irritated voice. “Who the fuck leaves a potted plant in the middle of a hallway? Jesus Christ.”

The speed at which I moved away from the railing would have probably been impressive to anyone who witnessed it. I hopped over the bag of clothes and the box of things I still hadn’t been convinced I should unpack and headed straight for the hallway. There I found the most wonderful sight I’d seen in weeks, eclipsing even the beautiful views of São Paulo.

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