Dear Patrick

Dear Lana,

It's been a couple of weeks since you left the hospital. You left a lot of things- I got rid of everything. For starters, you left me. You left us. You left our story. You left my tears. You left my sacrifice. You left me, you did. You left me and left with Derek. You're so confused and it's killing me. I want to come get you but that won't help because I can't do anything until your brain regurgitates all your memories clearly. And it's just a matter of time and how much longer I can last without you. You left behind a box at the hospital. A box that you hadn't seen yet, though. It was yours though- it still is. It isn't really that big of a box, but what's inside is.

You know they say commitment is the biggest thing that can ever happen to someone. The biggest thing inside such a small box. I can't wait until I give you that box. I can't wait until you remember. For now, I'm just waiting because even though I say I can't, I really am left with no choice. I know you're starting to get it back, baby, and that gets me so excited because I just don't know how to explain how much I miss hugging you. I know you're not stupid so the fact that Derek is runoff to football practice when your brain told you he plays hockey is really getting beneath your skin. I can't wait until you remember, I just can't.

I can't wait to give you that box. It's the cutest box ever. It's the box you gave me in senior year. That one night.

I always remember it.

I remember how beautiful you looked. You looked beautiful and your body was just fucking hot. You were wearing a white dress, it was tight and immodest in just the right places. And your skin was tan from the beach and your legs were smooth from all that healthy shit you put on it. And your smile was flawless because that's how it's always been and your eyes were the most yellow honey color I'd ever seen. And your was all curly and put up so it showed your back. And the make-up you put on the circumference of your third finger on your left hand to try and cover the tattoo we got you when we were drunk.

The one with my name on it.

I love that tattoo.

I remember how you told me that you wanted to dance so you could shed some of your dancing skills on me but you're a God-awful dancer. And I remember how hard I laughed when we got to the dance floor and how stupid you looked dancing. Then I remembered how it kind of hurt your feelings but you tried not to let it show. So then me and you left when they started bringing all the shrimp and food that was 'too rich-people to be fun'. And we ditched Adam and my date, I can't even remember her name. And we went, you and me, to that hotel. And the guy checking us in knew exactly what was going to happen And so did you. And so did I. But it didn't happen as fast as I thought it would.

Because I remember as soon as we got into the room, you started having trouble breathing and you scared the shit right out of me. Do you know what it's like to look at the only thing you have and watch it struggle to stay alive? So blah, blah, blah, fast-forward, fast-forward, fast-forward. Let's skip the parts you said you don't want to remember.

And finally, when you were okay and the paramedic left and the door was closed and the lights were dim and the bed was just screaming to be unmade, we did what I'd been waiting for for the longest time. I remember taking off my tuxedo and placing it carefully on the side, making sure not to wrinkle it- your mom would kill you if she knew that we had sex... and me, so I had to keep everything in tip-top shape. And so I sat shirtless and in my dress pants in the bed, waiting for you to come out and you did. And man are you fucking beautiful.

And you were blushing furiously.

"If you keep looking at me like you're going to eat me, we're not doing this." You laughed.

But I wanted to hear it- so badly. I wanted to validate it. I wanted to make sure it was real. So I asked.

"Doing what?" I smiled when you did.

"Having sex," you said, "We're not going to have sex if you look at me with hungry eyes."

"But I'm hungry and you're beautiful."

And so you blushed some more.

"Okay, then. I guess I have to feed you. I mean, that's what best friends are for, right?"

And I fell in love with you ten times more.

And just as you were about to unzip the back of your dress, I pushed your hand and did it for you. And you squirmed out of it, in your underwear and bra. Good gracious, your breasts are perfect. And you leaned in on me and you just barely pecked my bottom lip. Enough to drive anything with a penis crazy, I swear.

But I didn't want to start yet. And so I pulled you in and held you. I took in everything. The bareness of your skin against mine. The feel of the delicate muscle of your stomach against the more formed one of mine. Your leg wrapped around my waist and your head in my shoulder. And as soon as I averted my focus to the stack of boobs on my chest, I lost my control and so it began.

Notes