The tie. It made sense now, why I had bought Matt that uninspired, black-and-gray tie for our anniversary.
“That was it,” Matt said, and my thoughts snapped back to him. “The moment you put the gel in my hair, I realized I didn’t want to be only friends anymore. And it seemed you felt the same.”
“It was the gel?” I asked, laughing a little. The story had been sweet and funny and romantic, but it felt like someone else’s story. Or like a great scene in a movie we’d watched. I was sad not to recall it, desperately wanted to remember things the way Matt described them.
“I still use that gel sometimes,” he said, smiling. “Good memories.” His face was hopeful, and I realized he was waiting for me to agree. Maybe she’ll remember it now...maybe she’ll remember me now...
I stared at my half-eaten pasta cooling on my plate, unsure what to say. I didn’t remember any of it and I felt terrible about that. So many times in these past weeks I longed to mourn what I’d lost, but was unable to because I was constantly confronted by what everyone else had lost, too. And even though it wasn’t my fault—I would have given anything for things to be different—it broke my heart, every time.
“We didn’t officially start dating until a few months later, though,” Matt added.
I looked up from my plate, surprised. “We didn’t? Why not?”
He shrugged, then grinned. “I was an idiot.”
I waited for him to elaborate.
“We were such great friends and I didn’t want to screw that up,” he said. He looked sad again, likely thinking about how everything got screwed up anyway. “But I came to my senses right around Valentine’s Day, when Jake asked you out.”
“Wait, Jake asked me out? Jake Jake?” I asked. “What did I say?” It was so bizarre to have no memory of any of this, yet to know it had all happened.
“No, of course,” he replied. “You said you were waiting for me to come around.”
The longing to remember such a happy time in my life ran deep. “Please tell me Valentine’s Day isn’t our anniversary,” I said, cocking one eyebrow.
“Come on, do you think I’m that lame?” he asked. Then he laughed at the look on my face. “Right. I told you about the cereal killer costume. No, our anniversary is February 15. I figured twenty-four hours was enough of a buffer.”
I laughed, too, and then had an idea of something I could do for Matt. Something small but, I hoped, significant.
“So, I know it’s still over a week away, but where should we do lunch your first day back?” Matt asked, trying to keep the mood light. Trying to make things easier for both of us. “Are you done?” He was half standing, his fingers on the edge of my plate. I nodded and he took it and stacked it on top of his plate. “Maybe sushi? Burritos?”
“No,” I said. He paused, hands full of our dirty dishes.
“Okay, no to burritos and sushi. What about that falafel place—”
“No, I’m not done.”
Matt looked confused, glanced at my plate in his hands. “With your pasta?”
I held up a finger—a “give me a minute” request—and got up from the table and headed for the bedroom. If he said anything else, I didn’t hear him, because I was already rummaging around in the closet.
Matt was soon at the bedroom door, the dishes gone from his hands, a curious look on his face. “What are you doing, Lucy?”
“Looking for something.”
He paused, his voice measured as he asked, “Anything I can help with?”
“Don’t worry, this isn’t a memory lapse thing.” I stuck my head farther into the depths of the closet, reached toward the back and, moving a few items aside, pulled out a shoebox. I set the box on the bed and opened the lid, lifting out the gold-hued plastic bag. “I’m sorry it isn’t wrapped,” I said, handing it to Matt.
He took the bag from me but didn’t open it. He seemed nervous, unsure what to do. “What’s this?”
“It was your anniversary present,” I replied, sitting down on the bed. I kept my voice even, a swirl of emotions moving through me. I could only imagine how it felt for Matt to hear me refer to our anniversary. I pushed past the lump in my throat. “I bought it when I was shopping with Jenny. The day I slipped, and, well...you know the rest. So, here.”
He pressed his lips together, his face solemn. Then he opened and looked inside the bag. At first I thought he was going to cry and I steeled myself for it. But then his face broke into a grin and he pulled the tie out of the bag. Black-and-gray stripes, decidedly boring.
Exactly like the one I’d ruined for his Halloween costume.
“I didn’t remember, about the tie,” I said quickly, because I didn’t want him to get his hopes up. “When Jenny gave it to me, I couldn’t figure out what it meant. But now I know.”
“It’s perfect. Exactly the right gift,” Matt said, grinning as he tied it around his neck. “How does it look?”
He was dressed in a long-sleeved T-shirt and jeans, and so he looked ridiculous with the tie on, but I smiled. “It classes things up for sure.” Matt laughed and sat beside me on the bed, putting an arm around my shoulders. He kissed my temple as I leaned into him.
“We’re going to get through this, Lucy. You and me, together.”
I took the long end of his tie and held it out to the side, the way he’d described the costume. “Was it like this?” I asked.
“Pretty much,” he said. “And it was awesome.”
He kissed me then, and it was nice. Warm, comforting and starting to feel more normal every time.