I suppose from the title of this story, you know what I’m going to be focusing on in the following sentences: remembering. Believe it or not, you’re right. I’m going to tell you how I remember the softness of his lips when they met mine, and how my cold face would feel the warmth radiating off his skin. I’m going to tell you how I remember the time he waited two hours out in the snow for me, not knowing about the change of plans. I’m going to tell you how I remember the illusion of safety when he held me in his arms, as if he could fight off any demons in my mind or any criminals on the streets.

I remember every detail of his face, the size of his lips, and the slant of his eyebrows. I remember how his voice would abruptly take on a vulnerable tone, like a helpless child who wants a hug, whenever he told me, “I love you.” And I remember hearing my own voice like an echo when I said, “I love you, too.” I felt the defenseless me inside, opening my heart out courageously while remaining afraid of what he may do to it.

Do you know what else I remember? I remember the color of the plastic cups: red. I remember the stench of the house: liquor and sweat. I remember holding his hand on the couch and watching more than half of my friends make fools of themselves because they were drunk. I remember their drunken laughs and their drunken walking. The glazed eyes of every idiot there are etched into my memory. I remember the girls who had apple cider. I remember the boys who stuck with the Coca-Cola. I remember the tickle of his breath on my ear when he whispered, “Let’s not be stupid, ok?” I remember the rattling of my brain as I nodded my head, for the laughter and conversing were so loud that it sent an earthquake through my body.

That was when everything was perfect in my life. That was when I could go party when I had time and go on his arm as he escorted me. That was when I could call his number and know that he would pick up no matter how busy he was. Those times were when I could go to his house and hold him in my arms as his pencil went back-and-forth on the sketchbook. It was a time that my future looked joyful, because I knew he would be in it.

This is the time that I remember. I remember the car ride home with country music in the background. I remember his smile as I told him a joke at a red light. I remember his alert gaze, no drunken cloud, as he stepped on the gas pedal and the car jerked forward. I remember feeling safe in that car because he was driving. I remember the shock on his face when he peered into the side mirror. I remember turning around and seeing my friend’s car, their headlights bright in the scene of night. I remember the swerving and the honking and my scream. I remember the sad glance he sent my way when the realization of what was about to happen dawned on him.

I remember that being the last thing I saw before my world was blurred and I felt my muscles bruise and something cut my skin and my brain rattled even more in my head. I remember the searing pain and all I wanted was to black out because it hurt so much and my only relief was the warmth of my own blood. There was another car right next to me…too close to me. Its window was broken and my arm was almost touching the steering wheel. My arm was no longer pale. Rather, it had the shine of a ruby. I called his name but there was no answer. I turned my head and whimpered as I did so and I wish I never turned my head because the sight was so horrific I wailed. I sobbed the cries of one thousand widowed women. I screamed like a soldier in combat. I remember the blood and the image of part of his face missing and I remember the bashed skull and the knowledge that he was gone, no longer within my reach, no longer with me.

My memory begins to haze then because God finally answered my prayers and gifted me with oblivion, with unconsciousness. He took away a part of me. He took away my other half.
I wish He left me in that state.
I wish He welcomed me into his kingdom.
I wish He let me spend the rest of eternity in His realm with my other half, so that I could be whole.