Am I better off dead? Am I better off a quitter?                              

Am I better off now, than I am when I was with her?    --Nothing, The Script

Chapter 8 – Chugging Fest for the Broken Hearts

Her condition was delicate, they said. We mustn’t pressure her to remember things. I knew that. But I just wanted to try for once, to prove it with my own eyes.

I never imagined how it’d devastate me.

Sarah barely looked at my direction. Her eyes kept trailing on the apples sitting on the side table as if she was afraid that someone might take them away. I shifted on my seat, searching her face for any sign that she somehow recognized me.

“You like apples?” I asked with a careful tone. Since talking with Becky last night, Sarah had been crying nonstop. I could tell by the redness all over her eyes.

For a little while, she seemed to think before managing a small hesitant smile. “Not really… As far as I remember,” she murmured. “B-but somehow, I feel like having them around would make everything better. I’m not making any sense, am I?” She looked apprehensive, like she was afraid of me.

I smiled at her. “You don’t have to make sense. Just take it easy.”

Out of the blue, she fidgeted with her hospital gown and bit her lip, unease painting all over her face. “Everyone keeps saying that. Even Winfred.”

“Saying what?”

“T-take it easy. Don’t force yourself. It’s okay…” she said trailing into silence, picking up one of the four apples and staring at it. “But it’s not okay. I want to… I want to remember everything. I want to remember how I found Winfred... I mean, Dad. Or how Jeremiah looked just after he was born. I want to remember school and graduation and maybe how I became friends with Matt and Chuck and Reed. I want to… know what kind of person I had become, if I was happy…” she croaked as tears started to form around her eyes which fixed searchingly at me for answers.

I didn’t answer. Honestly, I couldn’t tell if she’d been happy. Not with all the hurt I caused her. It seemed like no form of reassurance or comforting would suffice the distress in her eyes. As much as I wanted to tell her everything about us, I couldn’t. That’d mean having to let her suffer all the pain me and my family had brought upon her all over again. But I don’t want to lie either. I was tired of that.

She blinked quietly, brushing the tears away before they could fall. “They said it wouldn’t matter if I don’t remember. That I’d just have to focus on my future but…” Her shoulders shook as she hid her face in her hands. I had the urge to rush to her side and wrap my arms around her. But I knew that won’t do any good. “Believe me… I want to remember y-you,” she said unable to meet my eyes.

I nodded, a wrenching feeling slinking its way to my chest. But in a spur of the moment, I just had to ask, “Let’s say that you have someone… special, and that someone comes here, what would you do?” Clenching my hand until my knuckles turned white, I waited patiently for her answer, watching her worry-stricken face become more pallid than usual.

She rubbed her temples and knotted her brows, her breathing becoming ragged. “I… I don’t know. I don’t know,” she mumbled feverishly, letting her head droop on her hands.

“Sarah? Are you okay?” I rushed to her side in panic.

“I don’t know… I’m sorry,” she cried, closing her eyes tightly, her hands clasping on her head, groaning in pain. “I don’t… want this to happen. Please… M-my head… It hurts… Make it stop,” she gasped pleading.

Hurriedly, I pushed the call bell and waited for the nurses. Sarah looked like she was suffocating. I kept my distance, afraid to touch her, unable to do anything. Just seeing her in extreme pain made me want to run away. I couldn’t bare it anymore. At last, the nurses came and asked me to step out of the room for a while.

For what seemed like hours, I stared nonsensically at the glaring white walls of my hospital room until I could memorize all the microscopic cracks and the small blotches of paint that peeled off the concrete. Damaged. Someone should go fix that. It was starting to tick me off.

 The door opened almost stealthily, or maybe I wasn’t paying attention. Not sure. Nothing made sense anymore.

Amnesia. In my head, I laughed ironically at the mere word, though I never moved a facial muscle, or even blinked regularly. What was the point? If breathing was voluntary, I’d be dead by now. Amnesia. I kept repeating the word in my mind, hoping to get a grasp of what it meant for me. For one, it wasn’t a myth after all and because of that damned word, it seemed like I lost everything to the world.

“Leonard,” Myrna’s gentle voice called out to me as she entered the room, a medicine carrier on her hand. “Time for your pain meds. How’s your arm? Does it hurt anywhere?” The nurse approached cautiously and sat on a chair looking at me.

I kept staring at the wall, wanting to nod but couldn’t, wanting to admit that yes, it hurt… in my chest. So bad. Like hell. No, not my arm. They could very well be sawing it off and I won’t have noticed. Blankly, I shifted my gaze to the nurse, then to the pills in the small medicine cup in her hand. Would those take away the pain?

With her brown eyes fixed on me, Myrna placed a hand on my shoulder. “You’re young, Leonard. It’s not the end of the world.”

“It is,” I replied vacantly before I took the pills and popped them into my mouth without asking what they were for. Maybe I’d get an overdose and die.

“Sarah’s stable now. I just gave her some meds to calm her down. She’s just asleep and would be up in no time.” She handed me a glass of water which I ignored. I just swallowed the bitter pills and felt them get caught inside my throat. “You know, so far, we had two patients who had temporary amnesia. After a week or two, they came to their senses and got back to their respective lives.”

Falsely unaware of her presence, I didn’t respond and kept counting the flaws on the wall. Even now, I kept on hurting Sarah. It was like every time I’m near her, something’s bound to go wrong.

“If you want to talk about it, I’ll be here okay?” she told me before going out.

Temporary. Maybe. But what if not? Sarah couldn’t even remember that I existed. Was it just a coincidence that she lost her memory dating back to that day, seconds before we met? Or maybe subconsciously, she just really wanted to obliterate any trace of my existence in her life.

No matter how much I wanted to hold her, no matter how much I wanted to tell her over and over again how much I love her, it won’t matter because it’d just be a bunch of meaningless words.

* * *

“Are you sure you want to go home?” Arthur asked for the third time.

“Yeah, Dad,” I answered, getting into his car and slamming the door shut. For the last two weeks, people had been telling me to go home, take a break, rest. And now that I decided that it was time to take the advice, everyone seemed to think otherwise. Downright ironic.

Dad just nodded and revved the engines. I noticed he was driving slower than normal, leaving me more time to wallow in my thoughts. My mind was point blank. After this, what? The question was left hanging. Since Sarah was taken away from me by some sadistic God of Memories, all my future plans seemed worthless.

Nathan was sprawled lazily on the sofa when we got home. Miraculously, he didn’t open his stupid mouth and let me get to my room peacefully. I sat silently in front of my piano, staring at the keys, remembering how Sarah played her favorite song, how her fingers struck the black and white keys even if she wasn’t at all good at it. All the thoughts started to suffocate me.

Blankly, I backed away from the piano and looked over to the window. It was getting dark. I wanted to escape. Somewhere I won’t be reminded of Sarah.

I caught glance of my reflection in the mirror. Cursing, I took my bonnet off and threw it on the mirror, heading straight to the bathroom. Bitterly, I removed my fake braces and flushed it in the toilet. What was the point of pretending? I was about to smash my fake glasses with my guitar when Nathan barged in.

“Oh, don’t mind me. Go ahead,” he said leaning on the door frame smirking.

With an annoyed grunt, I flung the guitar on my narrow bed and snatched the glasses from the table, placing it back on my face. “What do you want?” I muttered grudgingly.

Shrugging, Nathan walked past me and tumbled into my bed, picking up my guitar, strumming it as he did. “Dad’s sleeping,” he sang in a tuneless melody. “And I stole his car keys so we could sneak out. Chuck and Reed would be waiting for us at Gil’s,” he continued, still plucking a few out-of-tune chords.

Gil’s is a restaurant downtown owned by Leigh Murough’s dad.  At night, it becomes a mini pub where people hang out to have a drink or two. And because we know Leigh, we were allowed too often to stay out late.

“If I go along, would you quit doing that?” I muttered throwing him a blank stare. My ears could be bleeding by now and my teeth seemed like they were ready to fall off with whatever piece from some alien planet he was playing. But I restrained myself from chucking the piano on Nathaniel Richard Walden’s head. Not because he’s my brother. But because I knew that no amount of death threat could stop him.

He jumped up from my bed, grinning. “I knew you’d see it my way. Now let’s go.”

Nathan grabbed my beanie from the floor and tossed it to me. With a sigh, I followed him, noting how this was the stupidest idea ever. We moved along the long hallway silently, with Nathan forcing me to remove my faded blue Chuck Taylor’s—which was, according to him, identical to the pair he bought last month by mere coincidence—as we passed by Dad’s door.

“Don’t you think we’re too old for this?” I groaned under my breath as we ran downstairs. A dull throb slowly snaked its way to my broken arm. I deliberately ignored it. Nathan would probably just make fun of me.

“Yeah, so what?” he sniggered silently. “You think, he’d let us off after you’ve blown up your car? Being eighteen won’t save you from Arthur’s grounding, so if you won’t mind moving faster.”

At some point, he was right. Dad could be a little too overprotective at times.

“I’m driving,” I said with a final tone as we reached the garage. If I drive like a maniac, then there’s no single word that could describe Nathan’s driving.

He opened the garage door and threw me a yeah right look. “Fat chance, mate. I got the keys, therefore, I drive.” The crazy look on his eyes made me think that Nathan could be the end of me.

Grudgingly, I hauled myself into the two-seater Audi R8 as Nathan wasted precious time admiring the car like a pure nutcase would. “Do take your time, Nate. We’re not so much in a hurry and when Dad finds out, it’s all your idea.”

As he let himself into the driver’s seat, my brother cleared his throat and fixed a pair of oval thick-rimmed glasses on the bridge of his nose. He stared at the steering wheel like it was a Christmas present. “Alright. Let’s see if I still know how to drive.”

Chuck and Reed Ferguson waited inside Gil’s in our usual table at the very back of the diner. I pulled my beanie down and straightened my T-shirt, running a hand over it, trying to check if my body parts were still intact. Seriously, I didn’t expect to make it down town in one piece.

As we entered the swivelling glass doors, the wind chimes on top of it clinked. The interiors of Gil’s had a cosy feel about it, with the two-seater cushioned chairs around the narrow wooden tables. Incandescent lamps were propped on the wooden walls, accentuated by several abstract artworks. Nathan was grinning widely, obviously too pleased that he managed to not crash into anything or hit anyone. Apparently, he learned how to drive from Need for Speed in Wii.

“Dude,” Chuck, the younger of the two, not to mention, the slightly skinnier one, waved at us as we made our way to them. For some reason, he always wore a jacket, even in summer. “So, you’re finally out of the hospital,” he said to me.

Beside him, Reed sniggered gulping from his beer bottle. “What kind of question’s that? He’s here. Of course he’s out of the hospital.”

Chuck just furrowed his brows and grunted angrily. “Pssh. Not asking a question, bro.”

“Right…” he rolled his eyes and turned to me and Nathan as we parked ourselves on the two-seater lounging chair. “Drink up.” He pushed a couple of beer bottles in front of us. There were about ten empty bottles lined on the side of the table.

“So… what are we drinking for again?” Nathan asked, downing half the beer from his bottle in one gulp.

While looking expectantly at the staff counter, Reed just shrugged and tilted his chin to his younger brother. “Ask Chuck.”

Chuck let out a silent humorless chuckle. His face was already flushed with the amount of booze he managed to glug down.

“Life is officially crap, man. First, your team captain gets the girl you’ve been crushing on since like the fifth grade. Just when you thought it’s over between them, your best bud just had to make a move on her. Then before you know it… Poof!” he rambled, gesturing animatedly with his hands, before chugging from his bottle. “Next thing you know, they’d be inseparable. What next? When I wake up tomorrow, they’d be married and have twelve kids?”

Nathan threw Reed a puzzled look. “Care to tell us what happened?”

“Drake and Becky happened,” he replied smirking.

“Oh,” Nathan and I chorused. So Chuck had something going on for Becky. I shook my head. Who’d have thought?

“Well, life’s a bloody hell, that way,” Nathan blurted, staring at his bottle. It just occurred to me that since his brake up with Louella Cole, my showbiz best friend, he never talked about her ever again or even why they broke up. So far, he never dated anyone. Not that I knew of. And I got this gut-feeling that he still wasn’t over Elle.

“Couldn’t agree more.” I laughed bitterly, thinking that this must be the first time I agreed with my brother about something. Before I knew it, my bottle was already half empty.

Chuck just nodded. “So how’s Nerdy?” When I didn’t answer right away, he continued. “Amnesia, huh? I thought that was just some crap invented by movie junkies.”

My right eye twitched involuntarily after hearing the word amnesia. Reed must’ve noticed it since he nudged his brother to shut up.

“Yeah, I don’t want to talk about it,” I said staring away as I glugged what remained in my bottle. The cold bitterness surged into my throat, slowly numbing my senses. I caught the attention of one of the waitresses and ordered five more bottles.

“Anything else I can get for you?” A brunette about a few years older than me smiled, tucking a lock of wavy hair behind her ear—something Sarah always forgets to do. She seemed not to mind when her hair covered her face.

“No thanks,” I turned to the others, pinching the bridge of my nose, trying to take Sarah off my mind. “You want to order something? It’s on me.”

Reed ordered a few more additional bottles and a plate of Mojo—which was pretty much homemade potato chips. After that, the lady still stood in front of us, staring. Hurriedly, I checked if my eyeglasses was in place and pulled my beanie down so that it covered part of my face. Beside me, Nathan did the same.

It was Chuck who finally told the lady, “Uh, I think that’s all and can we get ketchup with that?” while throwing me and my brother bewildered looks. “What’s wrong with you two?” he asked when the waitress practically stumbled her way between the tables.

“Nothing!” Both of us said in sync, almost too defensively.

Reed snorted sourly. “That waitress is hitting on Leonard,” he muttered, inclining his chin to my direction.

“Me? No, man,” I replied almost smiling, counting the bottles I managed to empty during the last forty-five minutes. Five bottles down so far and I still felt like running in the middle of the street whenever a speeding cargo truck passed by. My thoughts strayed to Sarah. Would she remember me tomorrow? If it was this hard for me, maybe it was a lot more painful for her, not being able to remember the past two years.

“Seriously, dude. If Nerdy can’t remember you, we could hook you up with other girls. You might want to lose the glasses though,” Chuck butted in, receiving a dangerous look from his older brother.

Silently, I just shook my head and downed one bottle after the other. At times, (meaning all the time) Chuck just didn’t know when to shut up. I didn’t want other girls. All I needed was Sarah.

The waitress came back with our orders, still smiling at us. I didn’t make eye contact when she sat with us and introduced herself as Lena. Honestly, I wasn’t in the mood to humor her. While they made small talk and gobble up ketchup-covered Mojo—the smell of ketchup making my insides roll—I tuned them out, trying to figure out what to do next, arriving to nothing as the booze clouded my thoughts. As the night went deeper, people started getting off their seats, leaving the whole shop to us.

When at last, the waitress left, Chuck waved the small piece of paper where Lena wrote down her number. “See? Easy as pie.”

“I’ll never get why you’re so crazy about older women,” Reed muttered after a while. He looked like he was ready to drop. So was I.

“I’m not crazy about them. They’re just… more mature unlike the girls our age.”

“You mean unlike Becky,” Nathan laughed. “You’ve got some serious issues, mate.”

Grudgingly, Chuck took another gulp of beer before raising his bottle. “Let’s make a toast,” he slurred, his eyes red around the edges like he was about to cry. “For the broken hearts!”

“Dude, I’m… not broken… hearted.” Reed slumped on the table, barely able to lift his head. “I’ve a… girlfriend.”

A hysterical laugh came from Chuck. “You mean the one who’s invisible?”

“Well, she… just doesn’t know… that I’m her boyfriend… so far. Because she still haven’t… broken up with Mike… yet,” Reed moaned grudgingly while his head lolled, managing a chuckle that sounded more like he was a snivelling kid.

Ugh, crud. He just lost his mind. Mike Sullivan would go ballistic if he found out that Reed had the hots for his girl, Leigh. That was just so messed up.

After a while, he grabbed his bottle and clinked it shakily against Chuck’s. “For pathetic losers,” Reed said.

Nathan raised his bottle. “And for brothers’ brothers.” He turned to me.

I just about dropped to the floor with the whole world distorting and whirring around me. But then, I managed to hold my bottle up and sport a stupid grin. “For us.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

PLEASE READ: Just had a major set back there because of time constraints. I'm thinking of a casting change for Matt Adams because even though Avan Jogia is just smoking hot, I dunno if he really fits Matt's macho image. So, any suggestions? Oh, and the song to the right is one of my faves so...