Page 61 of The Love Operation

The pressure of it settles onto my chest. Heat crawls up my spine, making my skin feel too tight. My fingers dig into the sheets. I kick them off, then pull them back, restless. My mind won’t settle, like it can’t decide whether to brace for impact or bolt.

I don’t want to think, but not thinking is impossible.

I latch on to something analytical—Delenn and the memory project. The heat and restlessness fade, and in their place, calm excitement.

I let my mind travel to earlier in the evening, before Everett and Maggie barged in, before complicated feelings and emotions turned chaotic.

I hit the rewind button, and I’m no longer in my bed, but sitting by my couch, feet curled under me. The stem of the wine glass is smooth and cool under my fingertips. The wine is velvety and slightly bitter on my tongue. I rewatch Isaac tell me that he has just as much to risk as I do.

Then the present pulls me back.

I can still live in my memories, and it’s lasting longer this time.

I rack my brain, think of where else I should go, what past to dip into. And then—a thought strikes me like a lighthouse in the distant fog. A glorious thought.

A solution.

A way to take the uncertainty out of tonight. To make risk feel like strategy.

I am a problem solver by profession. That’s what I do. I intake information, analyze it, then present a diagnosis and a treatment. Why should this situation be any different?

I’m not fearless, but I know how to act despite fear. That’s what surgery—and life—require.

My heart gets excited. It agrees that I’m onto something. A tingling sensation works its way across my body.

I’ve been stressing over the timing of all this, but maybe the timing isn’t a problem at all.

Because suddenly, the timing feels like perfection.

I just have to get Delenn on board.

Chapter 14

Step Aside, Marilu Henner

We’ve just gone through another round of testing and resting, and Delenn is on cloud nine over the results. I can recall nearly everything after seeing it just once and then everything as time passes. It’s like my brain briefly encounters the information, then later carves it into my cerebral folds, making it permanent.

“I never got to tell you the other day,” she says, her voice buzzing with excitement. “Have you ever heard of highly superior autobiographical memory—HSAM—or hyperthymesia?”

I shake my head. None of those terms means anything to me.

Her fingers dance in the air as she speaks, and I smile. She’s in her element.

“Most people only form memories when something is meaningful enough to be stored,” she explains. “We don’t tend to remember repetitive, familiar things. Day-to-day details slip through the cracks because we’re simply not paying close enough attention. But when something is emotional, surprising, or deeply significant, the amygdala kicks in. It signals the hippocampus to store the memory.”

She pauses, waiting for me to absorb. I know the basics of memory formation and want her to cut to the chase. Still, I listen—she’s clearly building up to something.

“But that’s not how it works for people with HSAM.” She leans forward slightly, eyes bright. “These people can recall trivial details with freakish accuracy. You could give them a random date, and they’d tell you exactly what happened that day in remarkable detail. It’s like a superpower.”

I perk up at that word. Because that’s exactly what I feel like I have—a superpower.

“They’ve been studied, but scientists still don’t understand why it happens. People with HSAM tend to have nine enlarged brain areas on scans, but that’s about all we know. And get this—fewer than one hundred people in the world have been identified as having it.” She pauses, eyes glinting. “You know who Marilu Henner is?”

“The actress from Taxi?”

She nods. “She has it.”

“Wow.”