Chapter Twenty-Seven
Dear Lost Fisherman,
I’m really mad at you right now. And I don’t care if it’s rational thinking on my part or not. Sometimes a person just needs to be irrational. This front that I’ve been holding up is exhausting. One can only show bravery for so long. Even the strongest people break sometimes. I wish I was immune to insecurities, but I’m not. I wish your I-love-you’s made me feel more confident in us, but they don’t.
I know Angie’s still dazed with disbelief that you can’t remember the first girl you ever loved. The girl you met when you were six. I get it. Because I’m struggling with us. It’s equally as hard for me to imagine us falling in love twice without you remembering the first time. And I can’t even articulate how badly I wish you would remember us. Not deduce the fact that you must have liked me a lot to show me your nerdy cruciverbalist heart, but actually feel what that really meant. I can’t tell you how many times the eager words have sat on the end of my tongue, desperate to jump out and just tell you. Tell you that we were in love. Tell you that you were my first and forever love. And in my gullible, fairy-tale head, you magically remember everything and we live happily ever after.
Fuck fairy tales.
Seven across. Hint: Disloyal. Ungodly.
Faithless.
I was angry. Angry that it was Thanksgiving and she was with him.
Angry that I had to endure the long stares from Rose and Rory while my grandparents yapped about their aches and pains.
Angry that Fisher hadn’t tried calling me to apologize for … I didn’t even know. But something. Really, he needed to apologize for something.
And if I were being completely honest, I was angry that he got on his motorcycle that day. Angry that he lost his memory. Maybe that meant I wouldn’t have moved back to Colorado. That might have meant we wouldn’t have had the possibility of a second chance. But as I simmered like a pot of soup left on the stove too long, I started to think Michigan sounded pretty good.
“How’s your job, Reese?” Grandma took a breather from her winded explanation of ailments and their corresponding medications to finally show a little interest in her granddaughter.
“It’s the best job. I love the midwives I work with. I’m so excited to start my master’s program next year.”
“She does love it. We get to see her come home with no sleep after a long birth but boundless energy because she loves it so much.” Rory, for what felt like the first time in nearly two weeks, shared a genuine smile.
“That’s amazing, dear. We’re so proud of you. Is everything else good? Do you have a boyfriend? Or a girlfriend?”
I loved the way they accepted my mom for who she was. The way they loved Rose. If only my dad’s parents could have been so loving. Like God. I believed God loved everyone. It was just what felt right to me … when I started thinking for myself.
Thanks to Fisher.
“I have a boyfriend.”
Rory and Rose visibly stiffened.
“And where is he today?” Grandpa asked.
“Having Thanksgiving dinner with his family.”
And his fiancée.
“Will we get to meet him before we go home?” Grandma asked as she wiped her red painted lips with her napkin.
“I’m not sure.” I used my fork to fiddle with the remaining food on my plate.
“What does he do?” Grandma kept coming with the questions.
“He works in construction.”
“Oh,” she replied quickly. “Rory, doesn’t your old landlord do that too? What’s his name?”
Rory grabbed another dinner roll and took a generous bite while nodding. “Fisher,” she mumbled over the roll.
“Does your boyfriend happen to know Fisher?”
I grinned. “He does, actually. They’re really close.”
Rose cleared her throat and fisted her hand at her mouth to hide her unavoidable laughter. Rory didn’t find it quite as funny.
“That’s nice, dear. Is it serious? Will I be attending my granddaughter’s wedding soon?”
“It’s serious, but no wedding. I’d like to finish school first.”
Rory …
The epitome of a mother waiting for her daughter to get her heart broken. And she wasn’t wrong. There had already been a lot of heartbreak with what felt like unavoidably more to come.
“Well, I do hope we get to meet him.”
“Me too.”
“Speaking of Fisher …” Grandpa spoke up, and for a second I’d forgotten that Fisher’s name was just mentioned. I thought my grandpa magically knew or figured out my secret. “How’s he been since the accident?”
“Yes,” Grandma jumped in. “Has he remembered his fiancée?”
“He’s doing well.” Rory plastered on a believable smile. “Getting back a few missing memories, but not enough to remember being engaged to Angie. So that’s been a little rough. And I’m not sure if they’ll stay together, to be honest.”
“Why is that?” Grandma questioned.