Hesitating and Suffocating

Pat jumped to his feet as he heard a lock in the door. He was wearing Cally’s favorite shirt, a button up with the sleeves rolled up that she had bought him for Christmas during their fake relationship, something that made Pat tear up knowing that Cally wouldn’t remember that.

He was knocked off his feet as she walked in, obviously scared. Her eyes searched the warm apartment and the furnishings, then noticed her favorite meal on the table, candles lit and a smile on Pat’s lips. “Hi, Cally,” He whispered, wondering if she’d remember him. She gave a small smile.

“Hi, Pat,” She whispered, a tear falling down her cheek as she hugged him close. In some ways, she was just as Pat remembered her. She still smelled of cherries and her skin was still soft. But she was paler now, thinner, and she had black hair that was much shorter than her original hair length. Pat was struck by the first time he had met her.

“I like this girl!” Halvo exclaimed, and Pat studied her in the dark bar. Her shirt was tight, but not to the point where she looked slutty. Her hair was left natural, curling a bit as she tucked it behind her ear. The blonde shone in the dark, and her smile was much brighter. Pat giggled, and she smiled as she took their orders. Pat had a feeling she’d be around for a very long time.

Pat shook the memories out of his brain and smiled again as Cally straightened. “I like your hair,” He murmured, gently reaching out to touch it, ignoring her wince a bit. “It’s different.” She smiled as he pulled out the chair for her, Garrett grabbing some drinks from their small kitchen.

“I needed a change.” She shrugged. “I just ... with my memory gone, I need to find myself again. Or change myself.” She shrugged again, suddenly embarrassed and looked down at her empty plate.

She was beginning to get gists of Pat, but none of them were crystal clear. It was like her brain spoke one language and she spoke another. She had absolutely no idea what was going on in either instance.

Their dinner was almost silent, forks clinking against plates and the sounds of polite chewing until Garrett cleared his throat. “Cally, can I ask you something? You might not want to tell us, and that’s okay but, uh, I have to know.” Cally nodded, and Garrett took a deep breath. “Do you remember John, at all? Or any of us?” Cally took a shaky breath.

“I don’t want to tell you,” She whispered, and Garrett went to speak again, but she cut him off. “But I know that if I don’t now, I never will. I remember taking the plane home from England, and sitting next to someone named John. I don’t remember what he looked like, or what we talked about, or hell, even when that was. It felt like yesterday, but it was a long, long time ago. Somewhere between four and six months ago, I believe. In December. It’s almost April now. All that time between ... I don’t remember.” She looked at Pat and Garrett, both speechless. This was the most she had spoken since the accident. “But as to you two ... I have vague memories. Weird things. I remember how you, Garrett, smelled, and how Pat used to let me curl his hair. It’s those two things I remember about you two. That’s it. Everything else is a black abyss.” She sighed, telling the tears prick.

They were silent, unsure of what to say. It was understandable. What do you say to a girl who gave you so much to remember, but that she has forgotten it all? Garrett was beginning to feel how John felt, knowing she was gone.

The Cally they all knew was gone, replaced by a girl who was placed in old Cally’s world with no knowledge, and expected to survive.

“John, come on, I want to go out,” Jamie whined, and John groaned from the couch, where he was in just his boxers, not giving a single fuck today. He was sad today, and the vodka glass beside him was proof.

“Jamie, babe, can’t you tell I’m just a little upset right now?” He muttered, and couldn’t help but think that Cally would never do this to him, which brought on much more sadness than anything else.

Jamie rolled her eyes from by the door, “Whatever, John. I’m going out. Don’t fucking wait up,” She spat, slamming the door behind her. John knew she’d be back, wanting his body and his money and his voice, things he solicited now that Cally was gone.

The Maine had a tour coming up, and John knew he had to shape up by then. Garrett had been talking to their manager, Tim, in hushed whispers lately, and he knew it about his drinking problem. The guys said they understood, that Cally was important to him and now she was gone.

John wanted to believe that she was okay, that she had lived. But his heart kept bringing him down and telling him she had to be gone.

No one survived getting hit with an eighteen wheeler without becoming a vegetable. He couldn’t handle having to make that choice to pull the plug on her. He was her only family, as her almost-fiance. Her mom had died a few years back, and Gemma wouldn’t have the time.

He walked away because he had to. No one understood that.