Let's Drink to Memories We Shared

We’re so young and so stupid. We thought we were invincible. Isn’t that how every tragic teen tale happens, with a bunch of young people thinking they can take on the world, thinking that nothing bad will ever happen to them? I guess we became a statistic after all.

Here I am, pacing the hallway in the ICU at our local hospital, waiting to find out if my boyfriend-slash-best friend is going to make it. My other two best friends are sitting in chairs, hanging their heads in sorrow and shame and worry and guilt. They take almost as much of the blame as I do.

Zack flashes me an apologetic half-smile and Rian shoots me his best sympathetic eyes. It’s their fault for suggesting it and my fault for agreeing to it/pressuring Jack into it. Jack’s the only innocent one in all of this, and he’s the worst off. Figures.

I run a hand over my face, feeling the stitches on my forehead and cheek. The cuts go down my neck and chest and arms, some bad enough to need stitches, others just bandaged up. I can still hear the glass shattering. It was just like in movies, how it all happens in slow motion but very quickly at the same time. It happened so fast. It felt like hours. I don’t know how to describe it.

Zack and Rian walked away without a scratch.

The accident itself wasn’t their fault, but I know they blame themselves. I would too.

It’s the summer before we start college, and we’re trying to be as adventurous as possible. We want to try new things, since the four of us are going to three different colleges. Zack and Rian got the idea that we should find an empty road and race. Like, really race, like in those videos they show us in school. You know, the videos warning about the dangers of racing…

I loved the idea. Jack needed a little convincing because he wasn’t really comfortable with it. He thought it was dangerous. I hate how right he was. Zack and Rian were in one car and me and Jack were in the other, naturally. It was late, after midnight, and the road we found was deserted. They were the ones driving on the wrong side of the road. We were winning, but just barely.

Then, out of nowhere, they swerved in front of us—there was a car coming towards them and they couldn’t pull off to the side of the road—and I slammed on the breaks but they were just too close.

I crashed into their bumper hard. The front of my car was crushed and the glass of the windshield started flying everywhere. As we made impact, I heard Jack scream my name, just once. “Alex!” He sounded terrified. And then he went silent.

We’re probably in a heap of trouble. Oh, why am I even sugarcoating it? I know for sure we’re in loads of trouble. We really fucked it up this time. We’ve so far, in all of our eighteen years, managed to skirt by and never gotten in any legal trouble. But this is it.

I have so many cuts from the glass. So does Jack, but he also hit his head. Why the hell wasn’t he wearing his seatbelt? I mean, I know we weren’t exactly paying attention to our safety or the law at that point, but the rest of us thought to wear our seatbelts.

Wait, it was because he was snuggled up against me. That’s why. He was kind of scared the whole time. I shouldn’t have forced him into it. He thought we were going way too fast, especially considering how curvy and hilly that road is. He was pressed up against my side, face buried in my shoulder for most of the ride, up until the final few seconds.

“Alex, he’s gonna be okay,” Zack says softly, bringing me out of my thoughts. “He’s Jack. He can make it through anything.”

I nod, hoping and praying he’s right.

We’re all pretty silent for a while. I can’t decide if it’s better this way or if I’d rather us be talking. But what is there to say? We’re all worried. We’re all to blame.

At last, a doctor comes out of Jack’s room. “He’s awake.”

All at once, the three of us are leaping out of our chairs and cheering loudly with glee. It doesn’t matter that it’s early in the morning or rude. We’re hugging and crying and shouting as Jack’s parents go to see him first.

It feels like forever before they finally come back, and when they do, they look sad. Huh. “Can I go see him?” I ask desperately.

Jack’s mother’s face is tight as she says, “Zack and Rian can go ahead and see him. Alex, honey, we need to talk to you.”

Oh shit. Are they blaming me more than I thought? Rian and Zack slowly walk into Jack’s room, leaving me with the Barakats. “What-”

Mrs. Barakat cuts in. “He, he’s doing very well for someone who just survived something so traumatic. The head injury could have been a lot worse. He remembers almost everything just fine.”

“Almost everything?” I ask, starting to panic. What doesn’t he remember?

“He recognized us right off the bat. And then I said, ‘Alex is really worried about you.’ He looked confused and asked who Alex was.”

Jack’s dad adds, “I thought he was kidding at first. You know Jack, always finding an opportunity to joke. But then he asked where Rian and Zack were, and the more we talked to him, the more we realized he wasn’t playing around. Alex…I don’t know how to tell you this, but he doesn’t remember you.”

“He doesn’t remember me?” I repeat flatly. Oh god. Oh my god.

Zack and Rian come back out then. They must know, because they glance at me with the most horribly pitying expression imaginable.

“Can I please go see him? Can I at least try?” Maybe seeing my face and hearing my voice will jog his memory.

After exchanging a look, Jack’s parents agree.

Besides the large bruise on his head and the cuts on his arms, Jack doesn’t look all that bad. “Jack!” I half-shout. “You’re okay!”

“Who are you?” he asks semi-politely.

I walk right up to his bed. “Please tell me you’re joking. Please, Jack…I’m Alex. Don’t you remember me?”

He shakes his head. “My, my parents, they said something about you, but I…who are you?”

“I’m Alex Gaskarth. I’m your best friend. And your boyfriend.”

He closes his eyes for a minute, and when he opens them, there’s no trace of recognition. “I’m sorry…I can’t, I don’t remember you.”

I start crying. “You remember everyone else?”

He nods. “I guess so, yeah.”

“But why not me?” Does that mean I wasn’t important enough in his thoughts to remember?

——

It’s been a week since Jack got out of the hospital. I’ve been over at the Barakats’ house every single day, hoping to spark a memory that’s locked up somewhere out of his reach. So far, nothing.

Today, we’re looking through photos of us. He’s not cuddled against me like normal; there’s a definite gap of space between us. “See,” I say, pointing to the picture of him with his arm around me after the blink-182 concert a few months ago. “That was for our two year anniversary. You surprised me with tickets and it was the coolest fucking thing ever. Best night of my life.”

He looks at the picture, studying it, forehead scrunching up like he’s really focusing on it. “I don’t remember.”

“Okay. That’s, that’s okay.” Even though it’s not. Every time he looks at a picture of us and doesn’t remember, it hurts a little more. “Here’s one of my favorites.” It’s him giving me a piggyback ride on the beach. My arms and legs are tight around him and we just look so perfect.

Jack pushes the picture away sadly. “I still can’t remember. Damn it, Alex, I believe you. How couldn’t I, with all these pictures? But, but, but, god damn it, why can’t I remember?” He’s on the verge of tears.

I cautiously put a hand on his shoulder. He doesn’t shrug it off, but doesn’t move into the contact either. “Jack…”

“It’s not fair to you, and it pisses me off. I remember everybody else—my parents, Zack and Rian, all these people that are probably a lot less significant than you, and I remember little details about them, too, like where I met them, but—”

“That’s it!” I crow excitedly.

——

I show up early the next morning, grinning. Sure, Jack doesn’t remember anything about me now, but I have a plan.

“Where are we going?” he asks.

“Everywhere!”

We walk in a somewhat awkward silence because really, what’s there to talk about when he doesn’t know who I am? I’m relieved when we get to the first stop.

“Why are we at the elementary school?”

I roll my eyes and hop the fence to the playground, landing ungracefully in the sandbox. He laughs at me. “The gate is open, you know.”

“Damn it,” I mutter. Ah well. “Right over here.” I lead him to the slide. “Here. This is where we first met. I didn’t know you were at the bottom, so I went down and crashed into you. Instant friendship right there, second day of kindergarten.” I climb the ladder to the top of the slide. “Remember?”

He shakes his head.

“Okay, well, maybe the next place, right?” I slide down, not letting this one failure dishearten me.

Next stop: the middle school soccer field. “What happened here?” He sounds more curious about this than the playground.

I wrap my fingers around his bony wrist—and he doesn’t pull away!—and pull him over to one of the goals. “First kiss, right here, seventh grade. We lingered a little after PE ‘cause it was our last class and we walked home anyway. You pushed me and I fell into the net. You reached down to offer me a hand, I guess to help me up, but instead I pulled you down with me and you landed on top of me. And then we kissed.”

“Sounds like a scene straight out of a high school movie,” he says, rolling his eyes.

I sigh. “I take it you don’t remember that either, then?”

Stop three: the park near my house. More specifically, the creek that runs through the park. “It was December of our sophomore year,” I explain. “We were dancing in the pouring rain, even though it was really cold. And then, because you’re just a complete and total asshole, you pushed me into the creek. It was deeper than normal ‘cause it had been raining a lot that month, so I actually got more drenched than I already was. When I got back out, I told you that you really owed me, so you asked me on a date.” I can’t help but smile.

He smiles too, but it’s a sad smile. “That sounds romantic and all, but—”

My smile slides right back off. “But you don’t remember.”

“Yeah.”

Stop number four: the movie theatre.

“Let me guess,” Jack says slowly. “This is where we had our first date?”

“Yep! Do you—”

“Nope. Just a hunch.”

I’m starting to lose hope.

Stop five: the parking lot behind the venue where we went to the blink-182 concert. “This was where we celebrated our two year anniversary,” I tell him. “I mean, we were inside for part of it, but we did have some fun in your car in this parking lot afterwards.” I wink at him.

“Huh.” That’s all he says.

Does he really not remember any of it? These are the five most important moments in our relationship—first met, first kiss, first asked out, first date, first time/two year anniversary/literally the best time I’ve ever had in my life—and he didn’t remember any of it.

I sigh again and we start walking home. I don’t know what else to do. Am I just going to have to live the rest of my life knowing that because we wanted to be stupid and race, he’s never going to remember anything about me, about us?

“Wait!” he shouts suddenly, yanking on my arm.

“What is it?”

“You were right here,” he whispers, positioning me against the brick wall outside a now-closed coffee shop. “We’d been dating for, for uh, um, like five and a half months. It was really windy and my beanie had flown off and we didn’t know where. Your hair was a mess, but you gave me your hat anyway. I asked you why, and you kissed my nose and said, ‘Because I love you, silly.’”

Then he realizes what just happened, and he’s crying. “I remember! I remember you. Oh my god! You’re Alex, you’re my boyfriend, and everyone was relieved when we finally started dating because they all saw it coming for so long. We used to go here all the time before they closed down because of health department violations, which probably explains why we got food poisoning so many times from their muffins.”

I start crying too. “Thank god.” I wrap my arms around him and pull him against me. “You remember.”

His eyes are closed. I can tell that now that he’s remembered one thing, all of the memories are flooding back. “You should’ve seen your face,” he murmurs. “The day I pushed you in the creek and then asked you out. You went from pissed to ecstatic in half a second.”

“I’m curious, though,” I say, kissing his forehead. “All these places I’ve taken you, and you remember me giving you my hat by this boring wall. Why?”

He grins and blushes. “It was the first time you told me you love me.”