I'll Remember You Tomorrow

I woke to the feeling of sunshine on my face. I slowly opened my eyes, already missing the feeling of calm that comes with being asleep. The room was almost familiar, although I couldn't place where I was.

How did I get here?

Slowly, I made my way out of the bed and walked toward the door on the opposite side. I turned the knob to no avail. Locked.

Okay, don’t panic. I’m locked into a room and have no idea where I am or how I got here. That’s fine.

I then notice a nightstand with a glass of water and a little black book on it. Atop the book was a note that read, "Drink me,” with an arrow towards the water and “Read me.” with an arrow pointed at the book.

I might not know where I am or how I got here, but common sense reminded me not to drink something when you don’t know what's in it. I take the book and open it to the first page.

Don’t panic. You are safe.

Thank you book. That is really quite comforting. I guess I will just lay here, casually locked in the room I don’t know, in clothes I’ve never seen, and then maybe do some morning yoga. Despite myself, I turned the page and kept reading.

Go to the closet and grab a sweater.

Nope. Not doing that either. I flipped through the book barely skimming the pages. Each had a sentence or two on it with quick statements or instructions written in messy handwriting.

Knock on the door four times.

I had been battling my anxiety since waking up, but that struck me with curiosity. Seeing as I didn’t have much of a choice to do anything else, I walked over to the door and knocked according to the book of suspicious instructions. I heard a click and the door slowly opened. Standing on the other side was a man, who at first glance, made my heart leap unexpectedly. He looks tired.

“W-who are you? Where am I?”I ask, trying to keep my voice steady.

“Turn the page,” He says, gesturing to the book in my hands.

My name is Malcolm. You're in our house.

I look up from the page. “Our house?” I say slowly, testing out the words in my mouth.

Malcolm starts down the stairs and motions me to follow. He walks to the kitchen and makes himself some coffee.

“Jesus, it's cold in here,” I mumble under my breath. I was surprised when Malcolm started to chuckle to himself.

“Page 2. You are always so cold.”

With an eye roll I say, “Mind if I have a cup?”

My head is spinning and having a cup of coffee to focus might help. He points to the mug waiting on the kitchen counter. I take a sip and note that it is made exactly how I like it. Enough milk and sugar to make it taste like ice cream.

“This is my house?” I ask in between sips.

“Ours,” he retorted. “We moved in here in May.”

“Why don’t I remember any of this? I don’t even know-,” I stop when he points to the book again.

“Really?" I say, waving the book around. “What is this? Huh? The book of answers!”

He looked at me fondly, as if I wasn't throwing a tantrum, and continued nursing his coffee. Reluctantly, I looked to the next page.

You had an accident. Your memory has been slowly returning for five months.

“Okay, sure. So I lost my memory, and because of that, you decided to lock me into a room at night and write me a book, for what? A flashback scavenger hunt!”

The more I yelled, the more he started to laugh at me. The audacity of this man! I mean seriously. Here I am, a prisoner in my own house, in my own mind, and yet he is having a freaking field day. The only thing that upset me more was how absolutely gorgeous this man is while smiling.

Something about blue eyes and an all-American smile always gets me. Wait, I remember that! Memories started to flood back into my head in flashes. Our first date, him proposing, our wedding. The memoirs assaulted me until I thought I was going to pass out.

“I remember you,” I say once my head stops throbbing. I felt my eyes well up with tears suddenly. Malcolm came around the kitchen counter and pulled me into a hug. After a minute in his arms I calmed down.

“Your memory resets every night,” He explained. “ I lock the door to your room so if you wake up in a panic, you don’t run out of the house. You did that once the first week and it really freaked out our neighbors.”

I started to laugh quietly as I pulled away. It was comforting to have some inkling of familiarity but the house was still foreign. How did I lose my memory?

“Your little black book of secrets mentioned an accident. What happened?”

Malcolm took a deep breath and started to tell the story that I am sure I’ve made him tell a hundred times. I was working late and missed the train. I called a taxi, he picked me up and we started home. The driver was apparently drunk. He crashed us into a tree not even five minutes into the ride. He had died on impact and I was brought to the hospital with sever brain swelling. Malcom said I spent a week in the hospital before they released me. The taxi company had offered us a $20,000 settlement to keep it out of any major headlines.

My memory was almost nonexistent the first week, but over time long term memories seemed to stick. Other things came back slowly as I went about my day, and according to Malcolm, the book has helped.

“So $20,000 for a foggy head? I think I’ll start with getting myself a car,” I ponder teasingly.

“Not so fast. Read page 8,” He says.

You already agreed to use the money to go on vacation.

“I did not!” I shout. Malcolm raises his hands in a mock sign of surrender. He slowly moves his hand, as if not to agitate me further, and turns the page.

Yes you did.

On that same page was my signature clearly meant to confirm my agreement. I huffed, throwing the book on the kitchen counter. That stupid book. Nothing but trouble. Once I find some matches, I’m burning the damn thing. I started pulling open draws in the kitchen and living room, Malcolm following clearly amused. “Page 11,” He stated.

I hid all the matches and lighters. You burnt the first two books.

“Ugh! Whatever,” I say. “ Keep you omnipotent black book.”

Malcolm just rolled his eyes and grabbed my hand, leading me towards the couch. We cuddle up together while he answers more of my questions. We spent the day that way. His arms wrapped around me as we caught me up on our life, that only he was living. He then asked if I wanted to have my parents come visit since I apparently hadn’t been this lucid since the first month.

“They can visit tomorrow. I want us to have dinner together. Make up for lost time,” I say with a wink.

“Cassie,” he starts. “As much as I would love to, and trust me I would, your parents miss you.”

I lean into him slowly and stroke his cheekbone.

“Why are you so nervous? I’ll remember you tomorrow,” I say, sounding more sure than I am.

He held my hand to his face and leaned into it. After a few seconds of him breathing deeply, he looked into my eyes and started to cry.

“You say that every time. You’ve never remembered for longer than the day. It’s like you reset once you fall asleep. I miss you,” He says between soft sobs. “ I miss us.”

“I’ll remember you tomorrow.” I assured him again.

The rest of the day passed in a happy haze. When it got late enough for dinner, I talked him into ordering out. We set up the living room so that we could eat on the floor in front of the fireplace. Malcolm went to the door when the pizza arrived to pay the driver, and I grabbed a few bottles of beer out of the fridge. When I got back to the living room he looked from me to the beer and then back down to the pizza.

“Page 14,” he mumbled.

I looked at the book left forgotten on the sofa and opened it up to the corresponding page.

You’re pregnant.

“How long?” I ask while flipping the page.

Four months.

“Oh God.” I couldn’t believe it. We hadn’t even been married a full year yet. Half the time we’ve been married, I couldn’t even remember him! How can we raise a child like this?

“Surprise,” he says meekly. “ I didn’t really know how else to tell you.”

We spent the rest of the evening planning for the future that we hoped to share with each other and our child. We talked until late at night avoiding the inevitable. Eventually, we made our way back upstairs and stood in the doorway to my room. He gave me a hug and we held on to each other like it was both the first and last time.

“Why does this feel like a goodbye?” I asked shakily.

“Please don’t go. Don’t leave me. Not again.” He was shaking slightly.

“I’ll remember you tomorrow.” I said, reaching out and stroking his cheekbone slightly. “I’ll remember.”

I woke to the feeling of sunshine on my face. I slowly opened my eyes, already missing the feeling of calm that comes with being asleep.

I see a nightstand with a glass of water and a little black book on it. Atop the book was a note that read,” Drink me,” with an arrow towards the water and “Read me.” with an arrow pointed at the book.

Seriously? Anyone with common sense knows not to drink something when you don’t know what's in it. I take the book and open it to the first page.

Don’t panic. You are safe.

Despite myself, I turned the page and kept reading.

Go to the closet and grab a sweater.

Nope. Not doing that. I’m not even cold.

Knock on the door four times.

Leaving the book on the bed, I walk towards the door and do as I’m told. After the last knock, I heard a click and the door slowly opened. Standing on the other side was a man who made my heart leap. He looks tired.

“Hey Malcolm.”