“Charlie Baby,” I whisper, sliding an arm over her. I press my lips against the curve of her shoulder. She rustles, then pulls the covers over her head. “Charlie, it’s time to wake up.”
She rolls over to face me but stays under the blanket. I lift it over my head until we’re both covered. She opens her eyes and frowns. “You smell good,” she says. “No fair.”
“I took a shower.”
“And brushed your teeth?”
I nod, and her brow furrows.
“That’s not fair. I want to brush my teeth.”
I lift the covers from her head and she puts a hand over her eyes and groans. “Then hurry up and brush your teeth so you can come back and kiss me.”
She crawls out of the bed and makes her way to the bathroom. I hear the sink begin to run, but that’s quickly drowned out by the noises that come from downstairs. Pots and pans clanking together, cabinet doors slamming. It sounds like someone is cleaning. I look at the clock and it’s almost 9:00 a.m.
Two more hours.
My bathroom door opens and Charlie runs across the room and hops on the bed, quickly pulling the covers over herself. “It’s cold out there,” she says, her lips quivering. I pull her to me and press my mouth to hers. “Better,” she mumbles.
And this is what we do while I try my best to lose track of time. We make out.
“Silas,” she whispers as I’m working my way up her neck. “What time is it?”
I reach over to the nightstand and look at my phone. “Nine fifteen.”
She sighs, and I know exactly what she’s thinking. I’m thinking it too.
“I don’t want to forget this part,” she says, looking at me through eyes that look like two broken hearts.
“Me neither,” I whisper.
She kisses me again, softly. I can feel her heart racing through her chest, and I know it isn’t because we’re kissing under my covers. It’s because she’s scared. And I wish I could make it to where she isn’t scared anymore, but I can’t. I just pull her to me and hold her. I would hold her here forever, but I know there are things we need to be doing right now.
“We can hope for the best, but I think we should prepare for the worst,” I tell her.
She nods against my chest. “I know. Five more minutes, okay? Let’s just stay under the blanket for five more minutes and pretend we’re in love like we used to be.”
I sigh. “Pretending isn’t necessary for me at this point, Charlie.”
She grins and presses her lips to my chest.
I give her fifteen minutes. Five isn’t enough.
When our time is up, I crawl out of bed and pull her up. “We need to eat breakfast. That way if 11:00 a.m. hits and we freak out again, it’ll be a few hours before we have to worry about food.”
We get dressed and head downstairs. Ezra looks like she’s cleaning up breakfast when we walk into the kitchen. She sees Charlie rubbing sleep out of her eyes and she raises an eyebrow in my direction. She thinks I’m pushing my luck having Charlie in this house.
“Don’t worry, Ezra. Dad says I’m allowed to love her now.” Ezra returns my smile.
“You two hungry?” she asks.
I nod. “Yeah, but we can make our own food.”
Ezra waves a hand in the air. “Nonsense,” she says. “I’ll make your favorite.”
“Thanks, Ezra,” Charlie says with a smile. A mild look of surprise passes over Ezra’s face before she walks to the pantry.
“My god,” Charlie says under her breath. “Do you think I really used to be that awful? That it was shocking to ever hear me say thank you?”
About that time, my mother walks into the kitchen. She stops short when she sees Charlie. “Did you spend the night here?” My mother doesn’t seem very pleased.
“No.” I lie for Charlie. “I just picked her up this morning.”
My mother’s eyes narrow. I don’t have to have memory of her to know she’s suspicious. “Why aren’t you two at school right now?”
We’re both quiet for a moment, but then Charlie blurts out, “It’s a flex day.”
My mother nods without question. She walks to the pantry and begins speaking to Ezra.
“What’s a flex day?” I whisper.
Charlie shrugs. “I have no idea, but it sounded good.” She laughs and then whispers, “What’s your mother’s name?”
I open my mouth to respond, but I draw a complete blank. “I have no idea. I’m not sure I ever wrote it in any notes.”
My mother peeks her head out of the pantry. “Charlie, will you be joining us for dinner tonight?”
Charlie looks at me, and then at my mother. “Yes, ma’am. If I can remember.”
I laugh and Charlie smiles, and for a split second, I forget what we’re about to go through again.
I catch Charlie staring at the clock on the oven. I can see the worry, not only in her eyes, but in every single part of her. I grab her hand and squeeze it. “Don’t think about that,” I whisper. “Not for another hour.”
“I have no idea how anyone could possibly forget how magnificent this is,” Charlie says, taking the last bite of whatever it was that Ezra cooked for us. Some might call it breakfast, but food like this deserves its own category.
“What is this again?” Charlie asks Ezra.
“Nutella French toast,” she responds.
Charlie writes Nutella French Toast down on a piece of paper and scribbles two hearts next to it. Then she adds a follow-up sentence that says, You hate crawfish, Charlie!!!
Before we leave the kitchen and head back to my room, Charlie walks over to Ezra and gives her a big hug. “Thank you for breakfast, Ezra.”
Ezra pauses a moment before hugging her back. “You’re welcome, Charlize.”
“Will you make that for me next time I’m here for breakfast? No matter if I can’t remember eating it today?”
Ezra shrugs and says, “I guess.”
As we’re walking upstairs, Charlie randomly says, “You know what? I think money is what made us mean.”
“What are you talking about?” We reach my bedroom and I close the door behind us.
“It just seems like maybe we were ungrateful. A little bit spoiled. I’m not sure our parents taught us how to be decent humans. So in a way…I’m grateful this happened to us.”
I sit on the bed and pull her back against my chest. She rests her head on my shoulder and tilts her face up to mine. “I think you were always a little nicer than me. But I don’t think either of us can be proud of who we were.”
I give her a quick peck on the lips and lean my head back against the wall. “I think we were a product of our environment. Inherently, we’re good people. We might lose our memories again, but we’re still the same on the inside. Somewhere deep down, we want to do good. Be good. Deep down we love each other. A lot. And whatever this is that’s happening to us, it’s not touching that.”
She slides her fingers through mine and squeezes. We sit in silence for a little while. Every now and then I’ll glance at my phone. We have about ten minutes left until 11:00 a.m., and I don’t think either of us knows how to spend that time. We’ve already written more notes than we’ll be able to comprehend in the next forty-eight hours.
All we can do is wait.