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"Good," I said. "I just wish that I could be more helpful to you than I am. I'm really just kind of hanging out and hoping that you don't wake up one day and remember where home is, leaving me behind," I said it in a joking tone, but it was a serious admission.
"You know that I said I never want to leave the place where you are," she looked at me, and I could tell that she was serious about that as well.
"I know, I know." I answered her, lighting a cigarette. I inhaled, blew out the smoke, and then sighed. "What I really mean is that I hope the memories that you get, when you get them back, I hope that they don't make me old news to you. That you don't change your mind about things. Maybe too much information will change the way that you feel. Maybe if you learn too much, whatever we've learned together will become obsolete."
"If there's one thing I think that we've proven and illustrated so far in knowing each other, it's that love's never obsolete," she said, almost losing her balance. "Though there are plenty of people out there who would like to make it so," she added. |
