My life was perfectly mapped out for me since before the day I was born. I followed it, begrudgingly, because it’s what was expected.And then one day, everything changed.I woke up. Different. Independent. Free from all the rules that had surrounded me. Only I have no idea how I got to where I am. I have no memory of graduating college. No memory of Adam, the boyfriend I live with.
He loves me. And I love him. At least that’s what everyone says.
Except when my memories return to me as dreams, I see a different man than the one everyone claims is perfect for me. He terrifies me. He makes my heart race and he makes me feel things I’ve never felt before. I have no idea if I want to welcome the emotional roller-coaster that his piercing brown eyes and messy black hair puts me on every time I get a glimpse of him, or if I want to run back to the safe shelter of the scripted life-plan that used to be mine.
To be in an accident, wake up and not remember anything from the last two years of your life. The two years that everyone tells you, you were the happiest. And the man that helped you get there? You can't remember anything but the heartache that man has caused you. Would you be able to live with him? Would you trust him?
Adam is trying to help Amy remember the story of their life together. It's a tough road. Going to therapy and living with a woman who is afraid of you and has no trust in anything you say to her. Adam stays, he soldiers on for the woman he loves and who he knows loves him, if only she could remember. The dreams that come to Amy are more like nightmares, reminding her of the times that almost don't seem real. Are they? Is she remembering their life as it was or are these fantasies or terrors that keep her from moving forward. All she remembers is the scripted out life of her parents liking, not the carefree girl who learned to live her life for herself and the man she loves.
This was a gut wrenching story. With secrets and hushes, tiptoeing around. I loved every bit of it. It's a love story of a different kind. So if you are looking for something out there that new and fresh. You will love this story! 4 Stars!
“So who was the girl?”
I stare at the ceiling, ignoring my therapist’s question. I hate this room. The walls are yellow but not a happy yellow. More like what I imagine baby poop looks like. And the chairs haven’t been updated since at least the sixties. By the time my sessions are done, the only thing that’s changed is the imprint of the scratchy fabric on the backs of my thighs.
Instead of answering the question, I count the ceiling tiles and multiply the rows. Ironic that I use math at a time like this when it was a math class that got me into all this trouble in the first place.
Reliving all these dreams every week is almost as exhausting as having them in the first place. Talking about them doesn’t make anything better.
“Adam?” Dr. Jamison has lost interest in my silence, again, and turns to him. She’s about fifty years old and her faded blonde hair that hangs down to her waist is always braided. She wears flowy, multi-colored hippy skirts and mismatched tops every time I see her. Sometimes I want to ask her if she has a joint, just to see what she says.
“Tina,” he says softly. I stare out the window at the playground that sits empty at the park across the street. “It was just Tina.”
“She was a friend from home. We grew up next door to each other. She was in town that weekend visiting friends from our high school that went to college with me. That’s all.”
That’s all. It’s only two words, but they sound so condescending every time I hear them. It tells me that everything I’m either dreaming or remembering is made up or a half-truth of what the real life events actually were. It tells me that I’m being an idiot for believing them over my boyfriend who loves me. Or so I’ve been told.
Maybe I’d believe them if I remembered Adam at all.
Amazon Bestselling Author Just One Song and Just One Week Don't Lie to Me, released on July 15, 2013 Remembering Us - coming January, 2014 I am a wife, a mom, and a writer. I can often be found curled up on the couch with a good book, or obsessively eating Skittles in a very complicated and organized manner. No joke.