Olive Juice

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            "How does it feel to remember?" I ask.

Wyatt shifts the ice pack on his jaw and winces. "It definitely feels a lot better than this."

"I'm serious, Wyatt." I touch his arm to show I mean business.

"You should know. You remember Derrick," he says.

I flop on the couch, trying me best to sink into the cushions and disappear. My old Companionships, I don't remember them, but I'm convinced that they were never this strange. But, it would be nice to know for sure.

"That's the thing. I only remember his name and that's because you reminded me. His face. His voice. His personality. I don't remember any of it," I admit. The magnitude of my admission rests in my heart, making it heavy. Derrick is just a name I'm searching for. The person behind it is completely gone.

The chair creaks as Wyatt leans closer to me. He places a finger under my chin and lifts my face so that we're at the same eye level. "It's okay if you don't remember. That's why we need to find him. When we find him, you'll get to relearn his personality."

"Wyatt, we can't find him if I don't remember him. If he passed us in the store, I wouldn't be able to recognize him.," I croak. Unwelcome tears flow down my cheeks. There's no hope for the boy I once cared so much about.

"Are you saying you're not looking for him anymore?" Wyatt asks.

"I can't. It's impossible. Please, Wyatt. Tell me about your memories," I beg.

He hesitates. "I don't know, Olive."

"Please, it'll help me feel better." I feel pathetic, pleading for a description of someone else's memories. But, the desperation from witnessing normalcy unravel before my eyes is the reason I need this from him.

He watches me for a drawn out minute. Pain resides in his eyes. I'm not sure if it's from the welt on his jaw or the act of remembering. All I know is I'm not going to look away and let him off the hook. I need to know how it feels.

After our stare down, he averts his gaze. "Well, I can only remember two or three things. Everything is else is kind of a blur and I already told you one of my stories."

He pauses and sneaks a glance at me, as if hoping I'll tell him 'it's okay, I don't need to know'. Seeing I won't give him the answer he seeks, he continues. "It was my fourteenth Companionship. It's a really simple memory. Just, uh, me and my Companions walking along the sea shore. I remember because we had a Lodging by the ocean and it was beautiful. I wish you could experience it, waking up each morning to the sound of waves and the scent of salt. Running on the sand with your Companions. Seagulls flying overhead. I wish you could see that."