Page 70 of Don't Forget Me
Stephen perched on the edge of the desk, looking like he really was there and not a figment of Nick’s addled imagination. “You don’t want to think you’re here alone.”
“Again, I didn’t make you appear.” Unable to take his brother staring at him any longer, Nick stood and stormed from the room, slamming the door and jamming the key in. He didn’t know why he kept it locked when he was the only one here. Maybe to protect the space from himself? Liz hadn’t been the true intruder there. She’d understood Stephen’s story in a way Nick had tried to but never could.
Stephen appeared beside him again, and Nick jumped. “Stop doing that.”
“Bro, it’s not my fault. It’s—”
“If you say yours, I’m going to punch you.”
“You could try.” He pointed to himself. “Not real, remember?”
“And also not a ghost, apparently.”
“You’re catching on.” He turned to walk backward in front of Nick as he headed toward the back door and stepped onto the deck.
Everywhere he looked, signs of Liz reminded him she’d been there, that it had been real. A shirt hung over one of the deck chairs. She’d taken it off to swim in the lake. Her sunglasses sat on top of the hot tub lid.
If he walked around the side of the house, he knew he’d find ashes from their bonfire.
“Why am I still here?”
Stephen dropped into an Adirondack chair and draped one leg over the arm. “I don’t know. Why are you?”
“Some help you are,” he growled, lowering himself into the other chair as he stared out across the dark lake. “I should have woken up by now, right? It’s been too long.” He knew the basics of comas from playing a doctor in one of his movies. He’d had a coma patient and had to tell the family the longer they were comatose, the less of chance there was of maintaining brain function.
“I know what you’re thinking.” Stephen didn’t look at him. “But you’re not brain dead.”
“How do you know? You’re supposedly just in my head.”
“Because you know it. On some level, you’re aware your body is still alive, that your mind is as you left it.”
Nick leaned his head back, looking to the stars overhead. “Do you think she made it?” What he really meant was if Liz was still alive. She’d been in pain when she left, what if that wasn’t her waking? What if she’d been dying instead?
Stephen was quiet for a long moment, and Nick wondered if that thought hurt him just as much. Even thinking the words made him feel like a cord wrapped around his heart, squeezing tighter and tighter. Soon, it would burst, and there’d be nothing left.
“I hope she did.” Those were all the words Stephen had for him, only hope.
“She loved your script. Even more than I did, though I don’t think she liked the ending.”
That brought a smile to Stephen’s face. “You’ve read it countless times and still don’t understand it, do you?”
“It’s a love story, right? What is there to understand?”
“Oh, brother, it is so much more. Our lives are made up of billions of tiny moments, some large and others inconsequential. A few stay with us, but it is only a fraction. Mostly, what we remember is how a moment made us feel, not what we saw, what we did.” Stephen smiled as he lifted his face to the sky. “It’s like the stars. There are more of them in the sky than we can possibly fathom, but we only see a small number of them. It doesn’t mean the others aren’t there. No memory is ever truly gone, some just shine brighter than others.”
“She forgets him in the end. I think that’s what made Liz so angry. He didn’t end up being one of the memories that shone brightly.” Don’t Forget Me. That was the script’s title. Nick had to know why. “Why couldn’t you have made her remember?”
Stephen lowered his eyes slowly, settling them on his brother. “Because that’s easy, Nick. I once told you that your tragedies didn’t make you, but that was only part of the truth. From each tragedy, you draw strength. One day, you’ll look up from the wreckage, all the hardships and strife, and you’ll be the person you were always meant to be.”
Tragedy. Like losing Liz and remaining here. Nick couldn’t see past his own grief into a future where these feelings would benefit him.
“What if I let it?” he asked. “What if I never find whatever strength this tragedy is supposed to give me?”
Only silence greeted his question, and as Nick looked to where his brother had been sitting, there was nothing there but the same deep emptiness he found inside himself.
The lake house no longer held the promise of seeing Liz, of waking up next to her and spending the day together in the sun. He’d wondered if it was the place that set him free—from expectations, from his problems.
But now, he only felt the ties binding him here, and for the first time, he wanted to go home.
