After a terrible accident, Gemma is left with no memory of the first twenty years of her life and nobody to turn to who can help her remember. When she loses her job, Gemma sets out on an adventure to find something worth living for. What she doesn'...
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January 9, 2023
I miss her.
Of course, I've known this since parting with her over one year ago. However, I found it easier to suppress my feelings until I reached the extreme point of denial than to acknowledge that I still wanted her. Duty and responsibility called, and I had to push aside my feelings of love to represent my country. There was no time to wish things could have been different, and there was never any use in wishing for something that could never be.
But things are different now.
Keira came to Licapta today. When her DNA sample was collected by the customs officer at the northern border late in the afternoon, I was notified immediately. This was executed precisely as per the agreement when her memories were annihilated: if Keira were ever to return to Licapta, the head of nation and I would both be alerted, but I was first in line to handle the situation.
It was my idea, after all, to have her be the first subject of our novel, potentially revolutionary memory-loss procedure. He and I both knew I had only suggested it to spare her life, and possibly improve it. She would forget all the things that had ever caused her pain, and there had been many. I preferred to look at that side of the situation.
He agreed, I presume, for two main reasons. First, she would be the first observational, real-world trial of the procedure. When thrown into the real world, a world filled with trials that ignited unique combinations of emotion, memories, and feelings every day, would she remember?
Second, my family is very influential. Even before my involvement in politics, we have had political sway, partly because of the income we bring in through the various businesses and investments under our family name. But I won't go into that here.
I've gotten quite sidetracked here. Thinking about the way this all unfolded seems to have me going in circles, overthinking and— dare I say it?— wishing. Anyways, back to the present.
I made sure I was at customs when she arrived, with the excuse that I had to check something related to admissions. Really, I'd gone inside after spending most of the early evening riding my bike along the coastline to dampen my nerves while waiting for Keira's arrival.
When she finally arrived—all too quickly yet months too late— I met her inside just in time to save her from Thomas' cruel excuse for humour. All I could think about during our encounter was how she looked more beautiful than I remembered. Her grey eyes were bolder than I recalled, the dark speckles in them like storm clouds against the light grey that made up the majority of her irises, and they glistened under the artificially bright office lighting. Her cheeks were pink from the chill of the evening air, adding a stroke of colour to her otherwise fair complexion. My memories truly served her no justice.
I wanted to pull her into my arms the moment I laid eyes upon her.
It was a painful experience when she turned to look at me, though, her grey eyes empty of any recognition. They were filled only with curiosity, and it hurt to see firsthand that she had no idea who I was, no semblance of what we once were. I didn't expect it to hurt so much. I don't really know what I thought would happen when she saw me. Of course she wouldn't remember me. That was the plan. She wasn't even Keira anymore— at least not according to her documents. According to the paperwork, her name was Gemma.
In that moment, I almost wished they'd taken my memories too.
But I pushed the weak thought out of my head quickly. If this was the price I had to pay to keep her alive, to allow her to live this gift that was life, then so be it.
Keira hadn't come alone. She'd come with another man, a prospective student. It soon became clear to me that the two were only friends, however, and some of the weight pulling on my heart lifted.
It's late now, as I write this, and I don't know that I should get any sleep tonight. My heart is still racing as I'm far too excited for the day I will spend with Keira tomorrow.
In the fourteen months I've spent trying to move on, I'd finally learned to suppress thoughts of Keira, save for in my nighttime dreams. Before she appeared unannounced, it had been a fortnight since I'd even met her there, in the safety of my imagination. But as soon as my head hit my pillow last night, there she was again. I often dreamed of taking trips with her, either trips we'd actually taken or trips I always wanted to take with her. Last night was Munich. We were at a Christmas market, and I distinctly recall wiping off a piece of sauerkraut that had lingered on her lips. She'd giggled, and stolen a quick kiss before taking my hand and insisting we ride the carousel.
Only for her, I would.
I wonder if I'll dream of her again tonight. Even if I do, no dream will ever be as good as the real Keira, even if she isn't the same anymore. Gemma is the closest I'll ever have to the Keira I love, but it's better than not having her here at all, and I'll accept that.
Because no matter how hard I miss her, she won't come back.
