It's a Date (Again)

by Jeneva Rose

But it’s this weather right now that makes it all worth it, even if it is fleeting. It’s the short-lived moments where life happens.

He told me he loved me. I told him I didn’t love him back. It’s simple. Like a math equation. Two plus one does not equal four. The feelings weren’t mutual. It just . . . it doesn’t work. But if it’s that simple, then why am I crying?

You can’t control whether you need help or not, but you can control whether or not you help.

“The heart loves. The brain thinks. And sometimes, the two don’t agree.

“How’d you know the difference?” I ask. “Between what?” “Your heart and your brain?”

it’s better to live with a broken heart than to never let anyone into it in the first place. Mine has been split down the middle for the past two years, but I still have both halves.”

“Nonsense. It’s never too late.”

It’s better to live with a broken heart than to never let anyone into it in the first place.

The easiest person to lie to is yourself because you don’t question your own thoughts. You accept them as facts, even when they’re not. They’re just reflections, like looking in a mirror. We see ourselves, but we don’t see how others see us. We get a distorted version.

Something cracks against the pavement. I’m sure it’s my skull. And then there is no rain. There is no sound. There is nothing.

“Oh, Peyton.” She reaches for my hand and holds it. “You were hit by a car.” “Peyton?” I ask.

“Yeah, Peyton.” “That’s your name?” I ask. A bewildered look takes over her face. “No, that’s your name. I’m Maya.” “Maya?”

“Peyton,” he says, his voice a mix of excitement and apprehension. “She doesn’t know who she is,” Maya whispers. I’m only ten feet away, so I hear it clear as day.

“My friend is awake but you’ve replaced her brain with a potato because she doesn’t know who she is.”

“I’m your friend Robbie.” Oh, he’s my friend. “And I’m your best friend, Maya. I can’t believe you could ever forget about me.” She folds her arms in front of her chest. “Brain injury or not, I’m kind of hurt.”

Thoughts roll through my brain as I try to conjure up memories. But they’re not memories that come to the forefront of my mind. They’re just names of things that I know, or at least I think I know. Like states. Wisconsin. Illinois. New York. Then I think of animals. Dog. Cat. Cow. I glance around the room, noting the things I see. Chair. Bed. Flowers. TV. Hot guy. Funny girl. Doctor.

Robbie gives me a pleading look, like he’s saying Please, Peyton. You remember. Just say it.

Maya leans forward in her chair. “Do you remember the ending of The Sixth Sense?” I squint. “No. What is that?” “Only one of the greatest films of our generation.” She lifts her chin. “Ugh. You’re so lucky.”

“Maya!” Robbie chides. “What? What I wouldn’t give to be able to watch that movie for the first time again.” Maya cracks a grin. “You’d give up all your memories?” “Maybe.” She shrugs. “It’s a really good movie.”

He pulls his hand from mine and stands, retrieving his stuff. I want to tell Robbie, No, please stay. But I don’t know him, and I don’t think I have the right to ask him to stay. Judging from the dark circles under his eyes, it’s pretty clear he’s been here for days, waiting for me to wake up.

I nod. “What do I do for work?” “You’re a scientist.”

Maya cracks a grin and tries to stifle a laugh, but it bursts out. “I’m just kidding. You’re awful at science. You actually failed chemistry freshman year of college.”

“I have some visitors for you, Ms. Sanders, but you’re only allowed two at a time.” The woman snaps her fingers, and three very nice-looking men file in, standing shoulder to shoulder before me in a line. No, not just nice looking . . . hot.

“They’re all claiming to be your boyfriend,” the woman says with a smirk.

“So, which one is your boyfriend?” I inhale deeply and shake my head. “I don’t know,” I say.

I have three boyfriends. How? Was I a . . . I don’t finish that question.

The woman’s mouth falls open with surprise, but she quickly snaps it closed. Her lips curve into a coy smile. “Oh. Well, this is quite the predicament then. It’s like two of my favorite shows combined, Grey’s Anatomy and The Bachelor.”

“You know, the two-visitor policy is pretty arbitrary anyway, so I can give you a little time to figure all this out.” The woman gestures to the men and starts to back out of the room. “I’ll be back in ten to find out who’s accepted your roses.”

Shit! Of course I’d lose my memory right after figuring out who I loved. Perfect timing.

“What do I do?” I whisper to Maya. “You could just wait until you remember.” “But what if my memory never comes back?” “Right.” She taps her finger against her chin, contemplating. “You could date them . . . again?” Maya grins. “Could be fun.” She waggles her eyebrows.

She nearly squeals but keeps her cool composure. “All right, suitors,” Maya says, pulling a notebook and pen from her bag. She stands and addresses the room. “I’m Peyton’s best friend, Maya. Like I said, she can’t remember anything, so I’m going to need each of you to reintroduce yourselves. Name, occupation, how long you’ve been seeing Peyton, and bank account balance.”

“I’m Tyler Davis,” he says with a nod.

Tyler continues his introduction. “So, we’ve been dating for about six weeks. I recently asked if we could be exclusive, but you said you wanted to take it slow, which I respect and understand, given some of the things you confided in me. We get along really well, and I think we’re great together.”

“No need to sell yourself yet. This is early stages, but I’m marking you down as a dark-haired, less buff Chris Hemsworth with Thor hair, just so I can keep you all straight.”

“I’m Shawn Morris,” he says, never letting his smile falter.

“All right, Shawn, you may fall back in line. I’ll mark you down as young Denzel,” she says.

The third guy holds a box of chocolates in one hand and a stuffed teddy bear in the other. He steps forward and smiles sheepishly as he hands each of them over. “Hi,” he says with a quick wave. He seems shy but also confident.

“I’m Nash Doherty,” he says. “The chocolates are homemade, by the way.”

I also told you I wanted to be exclusive, and you said you needed a little more time. But you did assure me that you have feelings for me beyond friendship. I hope that’s still true.” Nash laughs nervously.

“Very good,” Maya says, finishing up her notes. “Nash, I’m marking you down as Adam Levine, looks-wise not personality-wise, hopefully.” She raises a brow.

“I’m really not up for that. This is . . . a lot.” I swivel my head to look at them. “I really appreciate you all coming here to check on me and for the gifts, but I have to ask, did each of you know I was dating other people?”

They all nod. Whew!

All right, I totally get why I’ve been dating all three of these men and haven’t been able to narrow it down. They’re kind of perfect, each in their own way. Tyler is strong, funny, and down-to-earth. Shawn is intelligent, confident, and charming. Nash is creative and quirky and passionate. I don’t know how I decided that one of them was my person. How was I so sure, like, five days ago, and now I have no idea?

“If I may interrupt,” Maya chimes in, clapping her hands together. “Just before the accident, Peyton told me that she loved one of you, like that real soulmate type of love. The love that makes the world go round and gets you out of bed in the morning.”

“The problem, as you know, is she doesn’t remember any of you. Double problem is she didn’t tell me who it was before the car hit her.” Maya briefly squints at me. “So, because we don’t know when or big ‘if’ her memories will come back, she’s going to have to date you all again. Any objections?” Shawn speaks first. “If that’s what you need, Peyton, then I’m on board.” “Same here.” Nash nods. “I’m not bowing out,” Tyler says with a firm nod. “We had a good thing going, and I’m not gonna let something like you not remembering who I am get in the way.”

Hearing all this seems like a lot. I have to get my memories back, date three guys, and figure out which one I love. Plus, I literally don’t know anything about myself. I don’t even know what I look like.

“I have no idea,” I say, shaking my head. “But the real question is, how am I going to decide who I love if I don’t even know who I am? And they’re all so perfect . . . and I’m”—I gesture to myself, looking down at my legs wrapped in a hospital sheet and my hands that are scuffed and scratched up—“not.” “You clearly are to them, and you owe it to yourself to figure out what your heart wants. It’s not your fault you got hit by a car.” She pauses and squints.

“For as long as I’ve known you, you have never let anyone truly love you. This is your chance.”

“But really, Peyton, I want to see you happy. Your brain has always gotten in the way of that. You’re cautious to a fault, and you keep people at arm’s length. It’s like you’ve tried to protect yourself before you were ever in danger of being hurt.

“I want to date them again,” I say firmly, so they know there’s no changing my mind. “I think I owe it to myself to find out who I was running to the night of the accident.”