Steal Your Heart Away

That's all there is to it

I was essentially frozen with shock, and she sat me down, spooning oatmeal into my mouth as she explained everything. There'd been an accident. She'd lost our baby and I'd suffered serious brain damage. "I stayed when no one gave a fuck Linds, even though you couldn't remember me."
"You're still here," I croaked in surprise. Her hand paused in the air and she glanced into my eyes, then she continued to feed me.
"I'll always be here Lindsey, because I love you." I grabbed her waist and sobbed into her shoulder. I had no shame. I was so sorry. "What about my mom? My brothers? The band?" I looked up expectantly.
"The band ended years before the accident angel," she pushed a curl behind my ear.
"But I remember being on stage. On TV. There were five of us I think. There were songs I know they were." I couldn't remember any of them.
"There were five of us baby. I'm so proud you remember." She must have been right. What she described seemed true. I was still searching for the other memories in the back of my mind though. Would I ever find them? "Oh ok..."
"And. I'm sorry but...Your mom...She died several years ago, and your brothers are back in San Francisco. They don't bother to visit much."
"Are we in LA still?" I lifted my head to peek out of the window.
"Yes honey. It's my home."
"I love you too Stevie." I kissed her cheek and sighed.
"I'm going to get the groceries honey. There are notes around the house if you need help with where things are." She held the back of my neck and kissed my forehead. I was lost for what to do when she drove off, so I returned upstairs, searching the bedroom's drawers for anything that could help my recall. Concealed beneath boxer shorts and socks, I recovered a leather bound journal, its left corner home to an engraving of three golden initials that I eventually recognised as my own. I held it to my side as I searched the rest of the house, not rushing to open in case it held nothing but blank pages, or more events that felt alien to me. There were only a few photos around. A photo of me and Stevie at a party when we were younger sat in a frame on the code table. One image of her once sleek blonde hair contrasted against the rear of a white, lace dress, sat on the mantelpiece, a reminder of the wedding I could assume she was proud of. The remaining images were mainly of oceans, mountains, and desert landscapes. Later she told me that the strength and relative permanency of nature gave her comfort in her struggle to cope with the volatility of her everyday life. It got to midday and beginning to feel hungry, I realised no lunch could be made because the kitchen was practically empty, & she had left to collect the week's food. I thought to ring her but I couldn't find a phone.
"Once you called the police because you didn't remember who I was. It was terrifying." She told me over dinner later that day, and I moved to kiss her tears away. Resigned to lying down for a while to pass the time, though not yet fatigued enough to nap, I flipped the journal on its front again and nervously began to read...