“We live here?” I ask Hope when we pull up to the motel. I had no preconceived notions—or at least I thought I didn’t—but, I didn’t expect a motel that looks like a mom and pop place from the 1950’s.

Again, it’s frustrating that I can picture something like that in my head easily, and yet can’t remember what I had for breakfast four days ago. About the only thing that’s keeping me sane right now is Hope.

She turns the car off and I watch her from the corner of my eye. She stiffens at my words. She’s obviously proud of this dump. Maybe it’s because it was in her family; that’s the only reason I can come up with as to why.

“It may not look like much, but it felt like home after the mess of Indiana.”

“Indiana? Is that where we’re from? We just picked up and moved? What do I do for a living?”

“Uh…You help me.”

“Help you?”

“Yeah. You help me with repairs here and getting this place ready. We were supposed to open the day after your fall, but—”

“I don’t have a real job?”

“Running the motel is a real job,” she defends.

“Jesus. Maybe I can’t remember shit about my life because I’m a fucking loser who lives off his old lady.”

“Old lady?”

“My woman, my wife, you know… old lady.”

“Umm…I’m not old and I don’t particularly like being called your woman.”

“What did I call you before the accident?”

Her nose scrunches as she thinks for a minute and I have to say that’s adorable. I’m starting to think I was a loser. All signs are pointing to it, but apparently I at least had good taste in women, because Hope is a fox. She’s got this long caramel colored hair, these amazing tits that I’ve been dying to squeeze in my hands since the moment she leaned over my hospital bed. Her ass is just as luscious, too. The kind a man could throw over the bed, pull up in the air and plow into balls deep. Which actually brings another thought to mind.

“You called me darling,” she answers, and I frown this time.

“Darling?” I repeat, the word foreign on my lips.

“Yep.”

“What was our sex life like?”

“Anyway, we should get out and— Our what?”

“Our sex life. What was it like?”

“We uh…well, I mean, it was okay… good…I guess… We don’t really have sex that often.”

“We don’t have sex?”

“Not a lot no…”

“Why the hell not?”

“Well…”

“Are you cold?”

“No, it’s kind of warm in here actually. We should go outside and—”

“I didn’t mean that, I meant are you a cold fish? Do you hate sex?”

“Why do you assume our lack of sex is an issue with me?”

“Because, it’s always the woman’s issue.”

“It’s always the woman’s…. How do you even say something like that? You don’t even know your own name!” she huffs and she’s getting upset now. I can tell by the way heat is rising in her face.

“Are you saying it’s not.”

“I am! I’m definitely saying that it’s not.”

“So you’re not the reason we don’t have sex?”

“I didn’t say we don’t have it, just that we don’t have it very often and that the reasons are definitely not my fault.”

“So they’re my fault?”

“The truth is Aden, you just don’t like sex.”

“I don’t…”

“You have… issues.”

“Issues!?!?! What the fuck are you talking about?” I roar, there’s no other word for it, I literally roar the question.

“The doctor gave you some medicine, but it hasn’t helped a lot.”

“The doctor gave me…”

“Let’s not worry about it right now. Let’s go get you settled.”

I get out of the car and follow her to the motel. I don’t have a lot of hope things are going to improve. At this point I’m kind of wishing the accident had killed me because apparently I’m a pansy who calls his wife darling. I’m a loser with no job, who lives off his wife, and has a limp dick he takes medicine to shtup his wife once in a blue moon.

Fuck, no wonder I forgot my life. I want to forget it now.