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She wanted to protest, but maybe he was right. Maybe she needed help.
“Wait.”
“What? Does something hurt? Can you breathe ok?”
She looked at him and blinked rapidly, confused. The answer to both those questions was no. Nothing hurt, and he easily took her breath away.
“I’m fine. Why...why there's snow outside?”
He turned to look over his shoulder at the sea of white laying outside the window. Maybe she was hoping for a warm winter day.
“It's, you know, just January in Boston.”
The conversation was thick and awkward. What do you say to the stranger you picked up, lifeless from the pavement? The weather seemed like a safe topic of conversation; maybe that’s why she was asking.
Was she feeling as displaced as him? It didn't help that her beauty was blazing in his face like rays from the sun. He wanted to touch her, but it was wrong for so many reasons.
” January?” She sounded as though the mere fact scared her to death. “No, it can't be.”
He didn't understand so he just shook his head in a questioning manner.
“No. It's June. My birthday is coming up. It's supposed to be June, why...” her words died, and an alarm went off in his head. He picked up a pen from the nightstand and brought it to her face.
“Please follow this with your eyes.”
She did as she was told, not knowing what kind of craziness was going on. It was June; she knew that. The snow was wrong, not her.
"Are you a doctor?”
"Mhm. Your reflexes look fine. Darling, it's not June. What’s the last thing you remember?”
He shouldn't do that. He should call for a doctor, not give her a consult in a hospital where he had no privileges. This was not only wrong, but it was also borderline illegal.
"It's June. I was at the summer festival a couple of weeks ago. That's on June first every year.”
“What year?”
“2014.”
His blood froze. There it was, the proof.
"Darling, I think it's time to call for the doctor.”
"Aren't you the doctor?”
He exhaled and took her hand in his.
“Not at this hospital, I’m not. I think you’re missing a part of your memories.”
She listened carefully, but it was like a tornado started forming in her head. Missing memories? What memories? His warm hands were the only anchor she found, so she held on to them.
"Is that why I don't remember you?”
Her eyes moved down along their entwined hands, and that's when she saw the rings. Two simple wedding bands, one slightly wider than the other one. One on her finger, and one on his.
"Oh, my God, you are my husband. I don't remember my husband!”
The color drained from her face along with his.
