Since I didn’t care to study too heavily, I decided an outdoor cafe to be the best place to work. I didn’t require the silence of the library and the weather was nice. Occasionally people nearby would speak up a bit too loud for my tastes, but no one stayed for too long. I actually came to this cafe often just to take in the view of the campus from its raised platform.

I would often take people up here. Drinks were not that bad and I could always attempt to impress my partner that day with my knowledge of the campus sights. Success varied. Sometimes they would want to come back a few more times, other times once was enough.

But this time I was not looking for the company of another person. Despite my attitudes towards the class I was studying for, I still needed to do well. Thus it would be alone time for me, as per my expectations.

In my life, expectations were broken quite frequently. This was again to be one of those times.

I was able to get through perhaps a third of the reading I wanted to finish when I felt someone staring at me. Maybe felt would be an inaccurate description. Every few moments when I would take my eyes off the page and stare at something besides letters I would catch a glimpse of a girl quickly averting her gaze after having stared at me while I was studying heads down.

I was content to let her keep staring at me, I didn’t really feel the pressure of her eyes until I stopped studying. When I was studying I was able to focus enough to filter out the distraction.

I was not focused enough to filter out a more direct distraction however.

“Hello?”

Looking up, I found the girl who had previously been so shy she couldn’t look me in the eyes now standing right by me. I made sure I was dealing with the same person. The empty table with her belongings left behind was evidence of this.

“Hello there,” I replied. As far as distractions went, it was a pleasant one. Definitely attractive, although a little older than the usual student. Probably doing graduate studies. She shifted nervously a little as she prepared her next statement.

“This is going to sound weird, but I was wondering if I could sit next to you?”

Quite a forward statement. “Sure, but mind if I ask why?”

She went silent for a few moments. I assumed she was processing my answer as a denial even though I had said she could. No one ever likes having their motives questioned.

“I knew you would say that.”

“Excuse me?” She avoided answering the question but left me more intrigued. “What do you mean?”

“Forget it. I actually want to talk with you. Can I sit down then?” Her tone was more that of a command rather than a question at this point.

What was she going to do? And really, why was I so hesitant? So an attractive woman wants to talk to you, what’s the worst that could happen? “I guess so. Go right ahead.”

Without a word of thanks she sat down across from me. Right away she started looking at me again, as if she was sizing me up. I decided to go back to studying while she decided on her response. The heat from her stare was so much more intense now that she was close. It was distracting, but she didn’t seem to want to stop.

“Sorry to bother you. I know studying is important and all. But, I just had to see you.”

See me? I had to turn away from the book and look at her again.

Her attractiveness was hard to deny up close. As I thought, she was older than the usual student here and seeing her across from me only confirmed this. She had a cute face, framed nicely by her bangs. It was a sort of subtle appeal, someone you could tell was really cute when they were younger but now was gracefully aging into a different look.

When I was looking at her from afar, there was a strange feeling of familiarity. But now, looking straight at her eyes, that familiarity was almost heart pounding. There were a few feelings running through me at this time: embarrassment at the fact she might know who I am but I didn’t know her, worry at her forward nature and unflinching stare and sure, a little excitement at the fact there was an attractive woman right in front of me.

My focus returned to her eyes. They had a nervous look, but not the expected shyness one has when they meet someone for the first time. Rather, it was the look one had when they had to prepare themselves for something bad.

I kept worrying about that sense of familiarity. Maybe it was deja vu? I was relatively sure I had never met this person before, but still felt I knew who she was.

“Sure, but, have we met before?”

There was a noticeable break in her relative coolness when I asked her that. Her gaze shifted away.

“We have,” was her simple reply.

The feeling of embarrassment grew within me. “Well, I’m sorry. I hate to say it seems you know who I am but I don’t know you are.”

“No, I guess you wouldn’t. It didn’t make sense to expect you to.”

Now my embarrassment turned into confusion. “I think you’ll have to tell me when we would have met.”

“Probably in November.”

“Can you be a little more detailed?”

“Gosh, it’s been awhile.” Awhile? It was only a few months ago. “I think we last met on the 13th? Or 14th? Like I said, it’s been awhile.”

What did she mean? Last met? We met multiple times? Seemed to be an unlikely possibility given that I had no idea who she was. And the only thing that came to mind on November 13 was breaking up with my previous girlfriend. We both deluded ourselves into thinking it was for the best. It didn’t mean that the best things in life didn’t hurt. I doubt I spent November 14 meeting this person, whoever she was. I easily remember lying in the bed the whole day, still in shock.

Jennifer might’ve been the one. But as she clearly told me then, it wasn’t up to me to decide. We managed some awkward conversations since then but we were still in the middle of trying to rebuild a shattered relationship into something resembling a friendship.

So then why was this woman referencing that day?

“I’m sorry miss, but I don’t think we met then.” I figured I should just stop this apparently confused woman from proceeding further.

She just smirked in reply. “It has been awhile after all,” she said to herself. “You can’t see it?”

“See what?”

“Look at me again.” She moved some of hair out of the way so I could see her face clearly. I took another look, but nothing jumped out me. The same feelings before recycled themselves.

“I really don’t know who you are.”

“Fair enough. I guess I might as well just tell you. It’s me. Jennifer.”

I looked again at this woman. Now she was claiming to be Jennifer? “Your name is Jennifer? I know a few but I don’t think I know you specifically.”

“No, I am the one you’re thinking of. Here, look.” She reached over to a bag on the other table, pulling out a small wallet. From it she produced a license and handed it to me. As expected, the woman’s picture was there. Looking at the name, it was Jennifer’s.

“So you have the same last name as someone I know?”

“Look at the birthday.” I did. Surprise followed right behind. The birthday was also Jennifer’s, right down to the year. The inevitable logic in my head tried to sort itself out. If this woman was Jennifer’s age, why did she look so much older? It just didn’t make any sense at all.

“Do you know Jennifer or something? Did she doctor up a fake ID for you? I don’t get it.” I handed this Jennifer the license back.

“No, that’s me. We broke up. I’m that Jennifer.”

I had a slight laugh at her ridiculous statement. “I don’t mean to be rude, but the Jennifer I know isn’t as old as you.”

“Yeah, that’s true.”

“So then, you admit you aren’t her?”

“No, I’m Jennifer. Just not the one you know. But then, also I kind of am.” I answered her riddle with a confused and concerned stare. She laughed. “I know you’re confused. I’ll make it simple. You know about time travel, right?”

“Well, sure. I know it’s also just a piece of science fiction.”

“Yeah, I thought so too. But you’ll be amazed by the scientific advances in the next few decades.”

“So what then? You’re saying that you’re from the future? You’re a future Jennifer?”

“Knew you would get it quickly.”

“You’ll have to forgive me for not believing you.”

“No, I don’t blame you. You always were a “prove it to me” type.” She was correct there. Not a surprise she knew that, if she really was Jennifer. “If you just accepted it after me showing you some license, then I would’ve been really worried if I really remembered you accurately at all.”

“So how are you going to prove it to me?”

“That’s not really why I’m here. Like I said before, I have something to tell you.”

“You’re no fun.” Oddly, I felt comfortable enough with this Jennifer to tease her like I used to.

“And you were always like this too!” A bright smile flashed on her face. “So uh, what else can I do? Oh, I know! We can talk about that time in the library.”

“What time in the library?”

“You know. ‘That’ time in the library.” I could feel myself turn a little red and looked away for a second to avoid revealing my embarrassment. I could hear her chuckling.

“This is pretty wild. I didn’t think I would get to see you again.”

“Wait. We don’t see each other again?”

Her smile disappeared. “Um, well. I probably said too much. You know those stereotypes about messing with the past? I probably shouldn’t have come here.”

“But you did?”

“At a certain point in your life, you know you have to make a move. Screw the rules, just go for it.” She hesitated for a moment. “It’s all about doing what you know will make you happy.”

“You’re not happy?”

“You’re just full of questions aren’t you? I would be the same I guess, if I was seeing someone from the future too.”

“Well, there’s just so much you could tell me. Not saying I believe you, but you seem interesting enough to tell a good story.”

She started to laugh. “I’m not going to tell you won the Super Bowl this year if that’s what you’re looking for. I only know so much as my memory allows. And really, the world is pretty much the same. People can only advance so much in a few years.”

“But they invented time travel?”

“Just wait. You’ll find out about it too someday. I don’t want to ruin the surprise.” She was always one to withhold good news.

“Fine fine. I don’t think I want to know about that anyway. However, it sounds like we aren’t friends anymore. At least in your future.”

“No, we’re not. That’s why I’m glad I had to chance to talk to you. A younger version of you anyway.”

“I’m the same age I’ve always been.”

“You and your smart comments. You know what I mean.”

“What happened?”

“We broke up. You know that. And then, we just didn’t really talk after that. A few awkward hangouts with other friends. Then after graduation, we just lost touch.”

“I see. You don’t really know what happened to me?”

“You think I should tell you even if I did?”

“No, I guess not.”

“I kind of wish we did stay in touch. You were…are great. And for the longest time, after we lost contact, I would keep thinking about those times.

Then one day they start talking about time travel. Going into the past. Crazy, right? But yeah, now you can relive those memories. I guess I always wanted to live in my past. And now…I can.”

“So what? Are you here forever?”

“I don’t belong here.” Jennifer let out a sigh. “These days are over for me. I’m just lucky enough to see it in person. But I have my own life to lead now. I guess I just wanted to meddle in yours a bit.”

“Aren’t you going to mess up the time space continuum or something like that?” I tried to pull from my limited knowledge of science fiction cliches.

She just laughed again. “I would hope neither of us is that important to the future of time. Maybe? I don’t know. People have gone in the past and come back just fine. Maybe we just don’t know the changes that happen when we return. Because why would we? We would just think that was the way things always were. Time probably just has a funny way of making things work out in the end.

I thought about it for a long time before coming out here. If I went through with it, I wouldn’t just change my own life but I would probably change yours too. And I don’t even know who you are in my time. Maybe you’re loving life, married with kids, working at some dream job. Is it fair for me to be selfish and take you away from that? Then again, maybe you’re living a terrible life now too. That chance is just as likely.”

“What exactly are you here to do then?”

“I decided to be selfish. I had to do it for me.” She took a moment to collect herself. “I want you to get back together with me.”

The sheer coincidence of future Jennifer asking to make up with current Jennifer notwithstanding, I was more surprised by the difficulty of the action she was suggesting I take. Not that reconciliation did not cross my mind previously but I was under the impression that Jennifer was not interested, based on her rather cool attitude since November.

But here was Jennifer, an older one, telling me to go for it.

“But she…you, didn’t seem interested in getting back together.”

“That’s true. I guess I wasn’t. That’s why I know it will be tough. It’s just…” Jennifer trailed off for a second. “My life now, to be honest, is terrible. I’m lonely.”

“Lonely? You’re not going out with anyone?”

“A few boyfriends. It didn’t work out. And then I just kept going on dates and for whatever reason I kept striking out. Now, I’m just tired.” I was always bad at consoling those in this situation, so I kept silent. “This is really all I have left. Going into the past and convincing an old boyfriend to go out with me. In the slim hope that years later, we still stick together.”

“I can’t say that your plan is going to work though.” I decided to be more practical than optimistic. “We broke up for a reason the first time. Who’s to say it won’t happen again?”

She gave me a faint smile. “Yeah, you’re right. It’s quite possible nothing will happen. But nothing will happen for sure if I don’t do anything.”

“You don’t just want to talk to yourself, I mean, your younger self here?”

“I thought about that. But knowing who I am, I would’ve dismissed it as crazy. You were always more willing to accept the impossible. And really, I wouldn’t want to get involved with something when I knew that it would be the last possible chance I had. You have to keep love pure, right? Don’t you think I’ve messed up the past enough?”

“You’ve certainly made quite a mess of things already. Any other visions of the future you’d like to impart?”

A chuckle. “I’ve got nothing. Just want to let you know, it’s not hopeless just yet. If you want get back together. Be honest. Be smiley. And be sorry.”

“I am.”

“Good! Then tell her that too.” She reached across the table to hold my hand. I was taken aback at first and almost pulled away but I was quickly surprised by how right it felt. It wasn’t exactly Jennifer’s touch, but a slight modification of what I was used to. A little different with age but just as good. Like the future Jennifer in front of me I guess.

“Sorry. I’m being selfish again. But I had to do it.”

“It’s all right.” I enjoyed her touch a bit as well.

She slowly started to let go. “Okay, I’m done. I need to get going.” She stood up and grabbed her things from the other table. “There are a few more things I guess I could mess around with also. It’s okay, you wouldn’t know how badly the future turns out anyway.” One last smile towards me. “It was nice to see you again.”

“Nice…to meet you?”

“That works too,” she said with a laugh. “Hope to see you again.” Jennifer never liked to say goodbye. Even after we broke up. But maybe she really meant it this time.

She threw me one last goodbye wave as she descended the stairs and out of sight. I tried to follow her shrinking figure from above as she disappeared in the fields below.

As one Jennifer left my life, I had the chance to bring the other one back in. Maybe things wouldn’t be that simple. Part of me wasn’t eager to talk to Jennifer again. I considered the option of just letting it go. Just let the whole thing pass like a dream. Getting back together with her would be great. But then, I didn’t need another disappointment in my life either.

The future was mine to make. Variables throw themselves at us along the way but in the end, the choice is ours. Future Jennifer made a choice to come back and mess with the past. She could’ve easily just kept things the way they were.

Now would I have the same courage to mess with my future? I wasn’t sure yet. But I had nothing but time to think about it.

My appetite for ramen versus my desire to never see her enjoy herself again.

I decided to come back in an hour. Call it a draw.

(Can I just say that 55 Fiction, pieces of fiction in 55 words or less, is super hard and I may never do it again. It is an interesting challenge though.)

“I swear, you told me that this place was quick,” I said. My growling stomach helped force the issue.

Samir’s tone was somewhat apologetic, but mostly defensive. “They usually are. Maybe they have some new people working the kitchen or something.”

“Whatever, I’m just joking.” I waved off his concern at defending his choice. Instead, I took a peek at the outside through the nearby window. Like any single person, I didn’t spend my time admiring the brutalist architecture style of the nearby student dorms, but rather incrementing my daily mental count of all the couples that happened to walk by.

I was up to 5 so far. It was a quiet morning apparently.

“Anyway, what happened with Elaine last night?” Samir said, interrupting my counting exercises.

“Elaine?” She had been my recent hope to make me one of the counted, rather than a counter. I began relating the events of the evening of the 19^th to him. How we planned to meet up for at a bar with some mutual friends. How she was a little late. How she ordered a mixed drink while the rest of us ordered pitchers of beer. How we all just started talking.

And of course, I mentioned the inevitable twist that changes everything.

“So after a few drinks, everyone starts getting a little looser. and then the conversation shifts to girlfriends and boyfriends. One of my other friends asks Elaine if she has a boyfriend right now. She says ‘no’.”

“Well, wait. That’s good news right?” Samir said, interrupting again.

“Yes yes, that’s great news,” I quickly replied, trying to get back on track with the story. “But then, she adds on ‘and I’m not looking for anyone right now’.”

Samir’s face grimaced like he had taken a blow to the chest. Imagine how I felt when I heard that news live on-the-scene. At least he was getting the “censored for the evening news” version.

I sighed quietly and rubbed my face. “In any case, it’s just another name to add to the list of failures.”

Samir quickly jumped into the conversation, eager to pick my spirits up as any friend would do. “Oh come on. It’s not that bad. What is this ‘list’ of failures you’re talking about?”

The sad fact was that I knew it better than I knew the proofs for my calculus final.

Cassandra, the rich foreign student, who I had taken a 8 A.M. lecture just to be with, only to find out that she had a boyfriend. Of course, this was after the drop deadline.

Rachel, the quiet girl, whom I spent months getting to know, then I found myself too much of a friend to be anything more.

Saaya, the Japanese student I met while I was abroad, whom I could truthfully claim was my “three-hour girlfriend.”

Jackie, the girl I almost broke the bank to win at a date auction. It was a double defeat, I lost the auction and the chance to win her over.

Samir, now reminded of the “list,” stopped the exercise at four names. “When you put it that way, you make it sound super depressing.”

“Isn’t it?”

“Hey, it just isn’t your time right now. You’ll find someone eventually.”

The same old tired excuse. Nonetheless, I had to believe it again if I wanted to avoid another state of depression.

“And besides,” Samir continued, “you already have one more girlfriend here than I ever had. Lauren right? Lauren Yang.”

Lauren Yang. Yes, I guess it was true, I did have one success, despite how brief it was and poorly it ended. I did, at some point, in between Rachel and Saaya, have someone I could call a girlfriend.

We started beautifully.

Then I did something horrible.

And we ended terribly.

It had been about two years since last I spoke to her. After our breakup, I was such an insecure mess than I had to resort to impersonal e-mails about the most trivial things just to try and stay in her mind. I would have to talk to her friends just to find out how she was doing.

Eventually, in response to one of my insignificant e-mails, she wrote, “I think you should stop talking to me. It’s for the best. I just don’t feel comfortable hearing from you anymore.”

It wasn’t like I was stalking her. I wasn’t hanging out in darkened alleyways or constantly checking her Facebook profile. How did I get from such a fantastic relationship to me trying to erase her face from my memory just so it would not haunt me anymore?

Lauren Yang, my biggest success and my biggest failure.

Despite all that emotional baggage, all I could say in reply to Samir’s inquiry was, “Yeah…Lauren.” A shrill voice interrupted the conversation, announcing the number of our order. Samir got up, returning with two plates of food. My breakfast was a cold pastrami sandwich that I distinctly remembered requesting to be hot. Still, a hungry stomach does not care much about the contents, so I quickly dug in, grateful that at least the bread was tasty.

The conversation between me and Samir continued, eventually drifting away from the topic of girlfriends. We started to focus more on our food than on any real important topics of conversation.

I was finishing the last touches of my sandwich when my cell phone began to vibrate in my pocket. Not being used to receiving calls, much less calls early in the morning, I eagerly pulled it out.

“Scott Wen?” I said, reading the caller ID aloud. Samir’s head perked up with interest. Scott was a friend of mine, but more importantly, a friend of Lauren’s as well. However, after Lauren and I broke up, Scott and I rarely talked, only exchanging words when we happened to pass each other on the street.

“Don’t just stare at it. Answer it.”

I heeded Samir’s command and flipped the phone open.

“Hello?” I started off with the standard greeting.

“Roland? It’s Scott.”

“Scott!” I tried to sound more surprised. “It’s been awhile. What’s up?”

“Hey, I’m sorry to call you this early.”

“Don’t worry about it. What can I do for you?”

“Ah, well…” Silence sneaked its way into our conversation for several seconds. “Screw it. I’ll get right to the point. I’ve got some bad news to tell you.”

I was genuinely interested in what bad news a mere acquaintance could give me. “Oh…okay. What happened?”

“Well, I just heard from Sara. She was at the hospital. She told me that Lauren, she got into an accident this morning.”

The mere mention of Lauren’s name was enough to make my heart fall a couple inches, but now it was compounded by the fact she was in the hospital also. What’s the correct emotion here? Concern, obviously. How much sadness was appropriate? As I tried to figure it out, I kept Scott busy with more questions. “What the? What happened? Is she alright?”

“Sara said that Lauren was driving in to work from the city. They think Lauren fell asleep at the wheel.” Another invasion of silence followed. “But, I heard she’s doing alright now.”

“That’s great news.” It was the only reply I could muster. Relieved at the news, I started to calm down. Still, a nagging thought hung around in the back of my head. “I’m really glad to hear that Lauren is doing okay. But, I just have one question.”

“Oh, sure. What is it?”

“I don’t mean to be rude or anything, but why did you tell me this? I haven’t spoken to you in a couple months, and I haven’t spoken with Lauren in about two years. And well, you know how Lauren and me are.” Scott didn’t need me to fill in the blank for him.

“Yeah, I understand. To be honest, I’m not sure why either. But, Sara told me that Lauren wants to see you. I asked Sara why she didn’t call you herself, but Sara is still a little sore about what happened between you and Lauren.”

“I see. Are you sure that Lauren wants to see me?”

“That’s what Sara said.”

“And you’re sure she’s not dying or anything.”

“God no. I don’t think so.”

“Sorry. I just never figured Lauren would want have anything to do with me anymore.”

“Well, that’s the way things are now.” Scott paused for a second. “You should really go see her.”

This moment reminded me when Scott told me the exact same words before I broke up with Lauren. I briefly enjoyed my trip to the past before I fell back to the present.

“I guess I have to. Where is it?”

I jotted down the address of the hospital and after exchanging a couple more words with Scott, said goodbye and hung up the phone.

Samir, who apparently had been hanging on my every word, quickly chimed in. “Lauren’s dying? What’s going on?”

“Lauren’s not dying. She got into an accident and she’s in the hospital. I need to go see her.”

“You need to go see her? Is something going on with Lauren again?”

“Damned if I know. But when someone in the hospital wants to see you, you go. If television has taught me anything, it’s that.”

Samir, not the television watching type, simply shrugged. “I guess so. Fine, I’ll catch you later.”

The brisk cold of a December day greeted me as I stepped out onto the street. Bundled up, I made my way to the nearest bus stop that would take me to the hospital. With nothing else to do, I continued to increment my couple count while I waited for the bus. I just managed to reach double digits when the bus arrived.

My mind still busy trying to comprehend why Lauren would want to see me, I took a seat in the back of the bus. I tried to make it clear with my posture that I didn’t seek anyone to sit next to me unless they had to. I watched the world pass me by, but quickly found myself becoming drowsy. Well aware the trip to the hospital would take almost an hour, I let myself drift away.

Luckily, I was able to hear the bus PA system announce the approach of the hospital bus stop, breaking my light sleep. Quickly realizing where I actually was, my hand darted for the stop request button.

Again I was welcomed with a cold breeze as I got off the bus although the overall temperature had increased slightly during my ride. The hospital looked out of place with its surroundings, large cubes and wide fields of the campus contrasted considerably with the crowded rows of nearby houses. I hurried over to the hospital’s main entrance, eager to get out of the cold.

The hospital entrance was decorated festively for the upcoming Christmas season. The “Merry Christmas” banner plastered on the sliding doors split into two words as the doors parted. A large life-size cutout of a cute cartoon dog in a doctor’s coat warned me of the dangers of the current flu season as I entered the lobby. I worked my way through a maze of chairs and waiting people to approach the receptionist’s desk.

She was busy on the phone when I reached her. “…Right, right. Don’t worry, I’m off on Christmas. I can meet your family then. Okay. See you soon, honey. Bye.”

I incremented the count in my head. Was I at 12? I had lost track after I taking that nap. It was a shame too, the receptionist was pretty cute. Then I remembered the reason I was here. I figured it wasn’t exactly moral to be hitting on people right before you meet your ex-girlfriend who was just in an accident and wanted to meet you after years of no contact.

“Sorry about that,” she said, as she hung up the phone. “Can I help you?”

“Oh, yes,” I replied, trying to reorganize my thoughts. “I’m here to see a patient. Her name is Lauren Yang.”

“Okay, one second.” She turned her focus to the nearby computer, seemingly typing more than she needed to just to find a room number. I saw a nearby poster of the cartoon dog from the entrance. This time he wanted me to get all my shots. “Lauren Yang, you said?” I nodded in reply. “Okay, she’s in Room 602. Elevator is to your right.” She pointed vaguely to her right before hastily dismissing me to resume her work.

Pushing my way through an exiting crowd of people, I jumped into the elevator right before it closed. I flashed an embarrassed smile at the remaining occupants of the elevator before pushing the button for six. Faint muzak piped in, distracting me from thinking further about it. Soon enough, the elevator dinged and a large six showed up on the number display. The elevators doors again parted and a busy bulletin board of notices and warnings greeted me. Not giving any time to the possible life-critical messages on it, I followed the signs leading me to Room 602.

I hesitated slightly in front of Room 606. What the hell was I about to do? I would be seeing my ex-girlfriend, someone whom I had not spoken to in two years and not expected to ever speak to again. Moreover, she had just been in accident. Should I have dressed better? Should I have brought flowers?

All those opinions against not coming were summarily defeated though. Lauren asked to see me. If after all that happened, she wanted to see me, then it had to be important. I would have to tough it out.

605…604…603. There it was, Room 602. Behind the door was Lauren. Someone I spent so long loving, but even longer missing.

Another thought came to me. Do I even remember how she looks? It honestly took me more time than it should have to remember. My mind had built up so many defenses against the pain that I think I forgot her face. I was selectively destroying the memories that caused me pain. The process wasn’t perfect though. The content of the memory was gone, but the result still remained.

Faint pains aside, I steeled myself and opened the door. Realizing I should have knocked first, I only opened it slightly and peeked inside.

The overall white of the room was heightened by the sunlight shining in through the window. Some flowers had been sloppily placed on a corner table, apparently brought there as a quick afterthought. Naturally, the majority of the room was taken up by medical equipment. Various machines I had only seen on television made a mess of boxes and wires, all surrounding a bed, which I could only assume contained Lauren’s sleeping body. No one else was in the room, which was to my benefit. I knew that Sara was here before. After the breakup, she became unapproachable to me. She was the personification of Lauren’s hatred towards me.

In any breakup, the two parties involved will always try to fight for moral dominance. One side will always want to look like a victim, while making the other side look like the bad guy or girl. But it’s a delicate balance. Just like in real war, you can’t go in too strong, or the world opinion is going to go sour on you. However, if you can get someone else to do your dirty work for you, then no one will blame you for it.

Sara was how Lauren got to enjoy the moral high ground post-breakup. It was also how I lost a whole group of friends. I learned that poison spreads quickly.

Quietly shutting the door behind me, I approached the bed, aware that Lauren was sleeping. Normally, I would have woken someone at a time like this, but I decided to let her sleep instead.

Admittedly, she did not look bad for someone who just was in accident. Bandages around her head were the only visible sign of something wrong, but otherwise, she was just as beautiful as the day it ended.

So that’s what her face looks like.

And then I found out what her face looked like when her eyes opened.

She said my name weakly.

“Lauren? You’re awake.”

“Yeah.” She smiled at me. I didn’t know how to feel about that. “What took you so long?”

“I uh…had breakfast with Samir this morning. I came as soon as I got the news.” I tried to play it cool in front of her, but with my heart racing and my mind confused at her attitude, I didn’t know what to think.

“It’s okay. The important thing is you’re here now. How long can you stay?”

What? How long could I stay? What was going on?

“I, guess I can stay as long as you need me.” It was true, I didn’t have any plans today beside sit at home and watch Christmas television.

“That’s good. You’ll make me better quicker, won’t you?”

“I guess?” Was this some kind of joke?

If it was, she was definitely committed to the humor. I was so busy trying to comprehend the situation that I didn’t notice her hold my hand in hers until the touch was evident.

I hadn’t been touched like that since we were going out. I hadn’t been spoken to so kindly by her since we were going out.

Then I finally noticed her eyes. There was something different about them. It took me a little while to get it, but then I figured it out. No longer was there the anger and indifference I received from her cold stare the few times I met her in person after the breakup. No, now her eyes conveyed something much warmer, some sort of love and friendship one gets from their girlfriend.

Girlfriend?

I gave her a test. “What happened to you, Ro-chan?” Ro-chan was the nickname I gave her when we were going out. It was the shortened, cute version of her name in Japanese. It made sense back then.

She gave me her version of the events. Then she ended by calling me by her nickname for me.

“I see. Will you give me a second?” I started to get up, but noticed she was holding too tightly to my hand. She always used to do that when I was her. I flashed her a quick smile, just to reassure her that I wasn’t going anywhere far. She smiled back and gently let go of my hand.

This was just too surreal. It was too real to be a dream, but too fantastic to be believable. I noticed that her charts were hanging from the front of the bed, so maybe they would shed some insight into her present state. I took them from the holder and started to look through them.

A majority of the notes were basic identifying information or incomprehensible medical jargon. However, I did notice an area towards the end marked simply as “Notes.”

“…Physical damage is limited. Should regain full mobility in several days. Mental status is questionable. Has full memory of events leading up to accident. However, friend accompanying patient noted that she has no memory of events relating to former significant other. Apparently suffering from selective memory loss of this related block of events. Length of memory loss still to be determined. Further tests ordered…”

Selective memory loss? Did she just forget the last two years of her life? But it said she knew everything leading up to her accident.

“Hey, Lauren, you said you were driving to your work right? Where was it again?”

“My work? It’s on Durant. You know that. But, why so formal? What’s with this ‘Lauren’ business? We’re alone you know, you usually call me ‘Ro-chan’. Just because I’m in a hospital bed, doesn’t mean anything is different.”

No, everything was different. She didn’t start working until after we broke up. I didn’t know where she worked. And the whole ‘Ro-chan’ phase was definitely over.

“Right right. My mistake. I heard Sara came by?”

Lauren raised herself slightly in the bed. “Oh yeah. Just to help me fill out some forms. You know, she kept saying the strangest things. Like you and me broke up and don’t talk anymore. I don’t know, she said I had amnesia. But, I know what day it is, I know what I did yesterday, I know what I need to do tomorrow. That can’t be amnesia, right?”

“Yeah, I guess. But what about us?”

“Well,” she hesitated, “I guess that’s weird. I don’t remember anything between us since like what…2^nd year? Between us I mean. I remember the boat dance, but after that, it gets foggy. Hell, wouldn’t I remember if you and I broke up though? Especially if I remember everything else.”

The boat dance? That was a long time ago. The last good memory I have of the two of us.

I didn’t want to cause her anymore stress. And really, I needed to take in what just happened. “Sure. You’re right…Ro-chan.”

Lauren smiled brightly at the mention of her nickname. “That’s more like it.”

And so we spent the 20^th of December together. It took me about another hour to get used to Lauren’s rekindled affection for me, but I began to relish it. It was a welcome change to the dreary lifestyle I had grown accustomed to. Lots of hand holding, nickname using, and those eyes. God, those eyes were just so warm. Anyone would melt looking at them, with the way she viewed the world.

But there was one more nagging thought in my head. Something that would not let go of me.

Would this last? What would happen if she recovered her memory? The downfall, the breakup, the pitiful attempts at contact, and the eventual loss of contact? Not to mention what I did to her. It would come back to her all at once. Every time I met her gaze, I worried that something in her head would click and then they would become as cold as ice.

The afternoon of the 20^th turned into the evening of the 20^th soon enough. We just talked and talked, interrupted every now and then only by hospital personnel checking in on Lauren. Time always flew when I was with Lauren. No wonder our relationship seemed way too short.

However, as much as I enjoyed it, I knew that I had to administer one final test to see if this could be for real.

“Hey, will you be able to stay overnight? I think the hospital would let you stay if I said so.”

“I don’t think I can stay overnight. Not tonight, unfortunately.” I was lying. I could, but I had to do something that required my absence from Room 602.

“Oh okay.” Lauren seemed slightly dejected. “But you’ll be back tomorrow?”

I rubbed Lauren’s hand gently. “Tell you what. If you want me to come back tomorrow, you call me in the morning personally. Don’t use Sara this time.”

Lauren chuckled. “Sure thing. But I want you to come tomorrow, right now.”

“Sleep on it.”

“Stupid! Maybe I won’t then,” she said playfully, sticking out her tongue at me.

“Hey,” I exclaimed, as yet another thought hit me. “Let’s take a picture.” I always had a digital camera with me.

“What? No way, I’m in no shape to be taken pictures of.” Lauren instinctively shielded her face.

“It’s okay,” I said, coaxing her out of her shell. “I think you look pretty enough as it is.”

“Stupid!” Despite her protest, she brought her arms down. “Fine, just let me at least fix my hair.”

As she fixed herself up, I set up my camera on the nearby table. I set it to run on a timer and then ran quickly over to Lauren’s side as the camera started to flash.

Click.

“Looks great!” I exclaimed, as I appraised the picture.

Unbelievable as it seems, one of the true regrets of my relationship with Lauren is that we never had a chance to take a picture together. I had pictures of her by herself, she had pictures of me alone, but there was no definitive picture of the two of us together.

But, on a tiny memory stick, I did now.

“I’m sure I look terrible,” Lauren said.

“Psh, whatever. Look at it.” I showed her the picture.

She yelped in reply. “Heck no, don’t put that on Facebook.”

Well, her pop culture knowledge was still intact too. I put the camera away.

“Hey…” Lauren started to speak, “stay until I fall asleep. Okay?” She grabbed my hand yet again, squeezing tightly.

I squeezed back in response. “Sure thing.”

It was late, so she soon fell asleep, my hand still in hers. I gently let go once I was sure she was out. Then I grabbed a nearby pen and paper and started writing.

What about? I started from the boat dance and kept on going until today, December 20^th. I wanted to give Lauren the memories she had lost. Maybe she was meant to forget all the bad things in her life, but no one should have to live their life as only a part of who they really are. People are the sum of their life’s events, both bad and good.

Did I deserve a second chance with Lauren? Maybe. But I didn’t want to be handed the chance, especially by something like this. I’d leave it up to her.

I wrote all the gory details. But I made sure to make most of the opportunity I had now. I told her all the horrible things I did to her, but I also made sure to include the most sincere apology I had made to date.

I just kept writing and writing. By the time the letter was done, the lights in the hallway had dimmed to help the patients sleep. Lauren had only shifted a couple times throughout the night, but didn’t wake up again. The letter was rather lengthy, although the size was increased by my constant revisions and cross outs. I wanted to make sure my words were perfect.

I put the whole mess into an envelope and wrote “To Lauren” on it. I placed it on the table on the side of her bed.

I got up, a little drowsy from my writing exercise, but awake enough to get a cab home. I made sure to take one last long look at Lauren, not sure if I would ever see her again. Lauren looked peaceful, sleeping on the bed. One last memory of watching her sleep hit me, but the wave of reminiscence subsided quickly. Gathering as much courage as it had taken to enter in the morning, I finally managed to leave the room.

On the cab ride back to my place, I played around with my cell phone with my right hand. The lighted screen display illuminated the dimly lit cab interior greatly.

I wondered if my cell phone would go off the next morning, with Lauren on the other end.

But, I guess that would be in a story about December 21^st.

“Oh, you’re home,” came the usual voice.

“Yep.”

“Anything special happen today?”

“Nope, the same old.”

“I see.”

As I closed the apartment door behind me and turned to look down the entryway, she came into focus.

Like every day, sitting on the couch, thumbing through some magazine. Today, the cover indicated that topic of choice was running. I knew that she had been thinking about running a marathon and the magazine selection fit. But the magazines changed with her desires, one day it would be bicycles, another one she would be reading about Korean food, and interestingly once she had been looking at a sports magazine. Unfortunately, the sports interest did not last long.

“What did you do today?” I asked her.

“I guess the same old as well.” No surprise to me. “Just hanging out here. Reading up. Waiting for you. You know, the usual.”

“Right right,” I said, dismissing her comments as I unloaded from the day.

Some strands of her long hair hung in the air, barely moving as her gaze remained fixed on the magazine. She always had an interesting way of reading, maybe she just did not like to touch the paper. The magazine laid out open on the coffee table while she hunched over and hovered right above it with her eyes.

I always told her it would be bad for her back, but she never listened.

“What’s for dinner?” she asked.

“Probably nothing too special. I have some chicken that I probably should cook soon before it gets bad.”

“Oh, that should be okay.”

“Are you joining me?”

“No, I’m not eating.” Again, no surprise.

I sat down next to her on the couch. She barely moved to make way for me, managing to slide her way to the side while still keeping her eyes on the magazine. Not one strand was out of place when she finished her maneuver, everything remaining in place before she moved. I picked up the remote and flipped through the television channels, mainly to find some background noise to fill the room. I knew I would not want to watch anything at this time of the day, but I always hated silence.

Even though she was right next to me, I could barely feel her. She made no sounds unless you interacted with her. I had to turn and look to make sure she was still there. And of course, every time I thought she was there, she would be.

Nothing fancy in her outfit today. Unnecessarily dressing for warmth for being inside all day, she went with a hooded sweatshirt of some Midwestern university. She went there, trying to run away from home and had the usual college experience of most people. Average grades, average amount of parties and the average number of relationships. She completed the look with a pair of sweatpants from her rival university. It formed a mismatch of colors which was jarring to eyes and got her a fair share of stares when she wore the same outfit back in school. But that was her objective. Not that she was an attention seeker 24/7, but as she said, “everyone likes to be center of attention every now and then.”

It was hard to ignore her now, as she occupied half my couch and I tried to fight her off with some bland sitcom repeat on the television screen. Unfortunately, the show was not quite as enthralling as the first time I saw it, especially in its tenth run towards my eyes and I had no choice but to engage her yet again.

The conflicting university colors jumped out at me, but I eventually focused in on her eyes. Just a second before she had been focused on her text but as if she knew I was going to turn to face her, she was already set to return my gaze.

“Yes?”

“How are you doing?” I asked.

“Didn’t you already ask me that when you came in?”

“Did I?” I thought for a second. “No, I think I asked you what you did today.”

“Huh. So you did. Isn’t that the same question though?”

“Not exactly. The words are different.”

She laughed at my obviousness. “So they are. I’m doing fine. Just like I was yesterday and the day before.” Her look in her eyes went from a neutral unconcerned stare to a rather sharp gaze. “Nothing changes unless you want it to.”

I could feel my own gaze betray my weakness upon hearing that statement. “I guess that’s one way to look at it.”

She again laughed and moved her eyes back to the magazine. “Scared you there did I? A bit deeper than you expected from me, right?”

“No, I guess you’re just saying what everyone is thinking.”

“You’re right. You think things just happen? No, people take action.” She flipped a page in her magazine. “If I want to read more, I need to turn the page. The cover is pretty enough, but you have to open it up to start reading and having fun.”

“What if you don’t want to see what’s inside?”

“Damn it, not this crap again.” She stopped looking at the magazine but did not look at me either. She just focused off into space, some vague piece of the wall. “Why get the magazine if you don’t want to read it?”

“I never wanted all those magazines.”

“Forget this lame analogy. It’s me you’re talking to. You don’t need to talk in code.” She was right. “So what then, ‘better to have never loved at all’? Is that what you believe?”

I glanced out of the window. “Well, no, that’s not it of course. I had a great time but, it’s just…”

“Just what?”

“I’m just tired of feeling this way.”

“Nothing changes unless you want it to.”

“But I want it to.”

“Do you really?”

The sight outside proved not enough of a distraction so I turned back to face her. Gone were the university sweats, now for some reason she was wearing her Halloween costume from last year. She had decided to go with a schoolgirl themed costume, her long hair was now tied up in pigtails. She told me she loved the simplicity in that all that she had to wear was a white blouse and a pleated gray skirt. Knee high socks and simple black flats completed the ensemble. Being a guy I appreciated the look and it stuck in my mind clearly as one of my favorite outfits of hers.

“I said, do you really?”

“I’m sorry, I find the outfit distracting.”

“Well, you’re the one who liked it so much.”

“True. It was simple and cute.”

“I take it from the fact I’m wearing this now that you’re not so on board for a change.” She untied her pigtails to let her hair fall down, which admittedly, I liked better with the overall costume. “We both know I’m not the first on to go through this. There’s the girl from high school. Then freshman year. And then that girl you broke up with before you went abroad. And then the girl when you went abroad…”

“I get it. I get it.”

She continued. “And the girl from the work. And the second girl from work.”

“I get it!”

“Just saying. This isn’t the first time you’ve had this dance. I’m not the first person you’re trying to get over. What’s so different about this time?”

“Maybe just because you’re the girl for right now.”

She chuckled. “Right now, huh? Maybe you’re more along the road to recovery than I thought. But see, you’re going from girl to girl. Why not take some time for yourself?”

“I’ve taken enough time for myself. It’s because I have all this time to myself that you’re here.”

She started to play with her hair. “Can’t deny that. You got me on that one.”

“Nobody wants to be alone.”

“Yeah, true. But we all need alone time.”

“Why are you so difficult to talk with?”

“It’s why I’m here,” she said, flashing me a slight smile.

“Well, you by far, are the most attractive out of all of them.”

She turned slightly red, looking away from me when I said that. “That won’t work. But, I don’t know a girl who doesn’t appreciate hearing that.”

“But it doesn’t matter, I assume.”

“No, sadly, it doesn’t.”

I got up from the couch and started to prepare for dinner. I had my back turned to her while she remained on the couch. But I could still feel her presence there, burning into my back like someone was staring right at me the whole time.

I tried my best to keep focus on the work in front of me but I had to turn back around and relieve the pressure building up within. She had gotten up from the couch. In fact she was standing behind me the whole time.

Gone was her schoolgirl costume, now to be replaced with the outfit she wore the first time we met. Long hair flowed from underneath a loose fitting hat, several strands getting tangled with the red scarf she wore. The collar of her lavender polo peeked out from the purple sweater she wore. A relatively nondescript pair of jeans disappeared into the tight black boots she had on. I think it was the boots that got me that first time.

“Hello there,” she said, mimicking that first day. “And what can I do for you?”

“You could go,” I replied, tired of today’s edition of the daily struggle.

“Oh wow. Impressive. I remember times when I would be with you the whole day. Now you want me to go?”

“I said I did, didn’t I?”

“Don’t you remember the first day? So full of hopes. So full of expectations. You spent days trying to just build up the courage to speak to me and then one day, bam, you see me holding a book.” Her right hand, previously out of sight, suddenly came into view with a copy of the book in question in it. “You thought, ‘She’s reading a book by him? It’s a sign.’ And so you walk over. You try and play it so you casually notice the book and the girl you’ve been staring at for hours.”

I looked for something to distract my attentions as I was treated to yet another recollection. “And yes, I know what you’re thinking,” she said, interrupting her flow. “And no, you shouldn’t break that plate. It’s the only clean one you’ve got left.” I put the plate down.

She continued. “I’m not saying this to be mean.”

“Then what’s your point?”

“The point is, what’s stopping you from doing this all over again? Finding someone else? Other people read this book you know.”

“I know. It’s just…not yet.”

She sighed and threw the book away behind her. Taking off her hat, she started to scratch her head, a common habit of hers. On her face was a look of submission. “Same as every day. Come on. I’m not that special. I’m just another girl who unfortunately it didn’t work out with.”

“Maybe it could’ve.”

“Doesn’t matter. No point in looking back. Get back to me when you come up with that time machine.”

“Just go.”

“So then what? See you here tomorrow?”

“Yeah, probably.”

A heavy sigh came from her. She put the hat back on. “Forget about me.”

“I’m trying.”

“You say that every day.”

“You say that every day too.”

She smiled. “Maybe I do. Hopefully I won’t be here tomorrow.”

“I hope so too.” I turned back around and got back to work on my meal while I felt the presence burning at my back slowly fade. There was no sound as it just faded away into nothingness. For now I could focus on other things, my dinner, some leftover work, and maybe the latest episodes of my favorite shows if I finished early enough.

But I knew she would be right there waiting for me when I had a moment to myself and my thoughts.

Nothing changes.

I entertain every now and then ideas that I can make it big as some sort of fancy writer, but so do many of us as well. In the meantime, I’ll try and find the time and space to write (hopefully) interesting pieces of fiction. I don’t really have a theme that I usually work in, but a lot of what I write inevitably turns into some sort of romance themed piece of work. Yep, I’m a romantic as well (who saw that coming!).

This time for my writing section, instead of writing a page from scratch I’m using Wordpress, mainly because I love the organization it gives me on the backend. However, this means that stories, if I write out of order, will be mixed up on the site because of the built in chronological sorting of the blog. I suggest using the categories tab in the sidebar to find all posts related to a certain piece of writing I’m working on.

I can’t claim I’ll do this with any regularity or even skill. I just hope there’ s enough here to keep you checking in every now and then for a little entertainment. By all means, please leave comments. Let me know what you think and definitely correct my spelling and grammar. Thanks for stopping by.

(Shameless plug: If you’re interested, my personal blog is here – http://www.rolandcarlos.net/blog. Feel free to comment on the details of my daily life there.)