Page 11 of You Again

I sneer. “I’m sure.” But my tone tells him that I don’t find him funny or fascinating.

He takes the paper on his clipboard and folds it like an accordion, creating three sections. “You can remember everything before the time lost.” He taps the paper at the back of the accordion. And you’ll have no problems retaining your new memories.” He taps the front. “But this time, in the middle”—he points to the center of his homemade accordion—“it’s lost.” He shakes his head. “There is no telling if it will come back or not.”

“I don’t have⁠—”

“Rose,” Fran says, her voice cracking. “The concert was six years ago.”

Dr. Strouse nods. “Six years, three months, and two days to be exact.”

I blink, my friend coming in and out of focus. “No, it wasn’t.” My heart skips and my breaths feel short. They’re wrong.

“Yes.” Dr. Strouse lifts his head and peers around at my mom, dad, grammy, and Fran.

“Is there something we should be doing to help her memory?” Dad says, his eyes glued to the doctor.

“The key is low pressure. There’s no rush in bringing her memories back. She’s going to need rest and a lot of it. Limited screen time and a gradual return to her regular activity. If the memories are going to come back, they’ll come. Forcing it won’t help her.”

“If,” Dad says, looking to Mom for help. Dr. Strouse talks to Dad. Dad looks to Mom, but what about me?

“Hello! I’m right here.” I wave my hand in the air before letting it fall back to the hospital bed.

“Rose,” Mom says, her tone a mix of tearful and scolding. But I can’t help but speak rudely. This guy is talking crazy.

“Where’s Ty and Jackie?” I bark. “If I had amnesia, my siblings would be here.”

“They wanted to be, sweetheart.” My mother’s eyes fill with tears and she picks up my hand, holding it in her own. “But the doctor thought it might be startling to see them.”

“They aren’t the kids you remember,” Dad says, supporting this chaos. “They’re both adults now.”

But I don’t listen. “And where’s Robert?” My voice cracks. “I have amnesia and Robert’s missing it? I don’t think so!”

“Robert who?” Dad’s brows narrow.

I scoff. I’m going to boycott my family if I’m ever allowed to leave this hospital bed. “Robert Pattinson! The soon-to-be engineer, not the vampire. My long-time boyfriend.”

“Oh.” Dad sheepishly turns to look at Mom again, who pulls her hand from mine and looks at Fran. Which only confuses me.

My Fran—who does look a little different, but not really older. She’s simply more beautiful. She bought that new foundation online.

“Robert is…” Fran gives a slow shake of her head. “Not here.”

“Because I don’t have amnesia. Or he would be.” My mouth is dry. My head aches, and I seriously need these people to stop talking cracked.

She swallows. “Sweetie, you and Robert… You aren’t—” She shakes her head. “You broke up a while ago.”

“Me and Robert?” I look around at my family. What for the love of Pistol Pete is happening?

Grammy trots over, and now that I’m looking, it’s hard to deny the wrinkles around her mouth and eyes. They are deeper. They’re more prevalent than they should be. She looks tired. It’s enough to make me hyperventilate.

Grammy takes my hand in her wrinkled one. She brings my fingers to her lips and presses a kiss there. There’s a faint rhythmic tremor wobbling in Gram’s hand. My mind is playing tricks on me, trying to see things that shouldn’t be there. “He was never good enough for you anyway.”

Before I even realize it, there’s a tear on my cheek. “Yes, he was.”

“No,” Fran says, so stern that I feel almost scolded. “He wasn’t.”

I sniff and look back at Grammy. “Where’s Gramps?” He should be here.

Fran whimpers, but Grammy doesn’t lose eye contact with me. Her eyes are tearful, but her words are strong. “He’s watching over you from heaven, sweet girl. In fact, I’d wager he’s the reason you weren’t killed in that awful accident.”