Stay

It all happened so suddenly. We were driving to our special spot near the water. We had been together for five years and six months. The best years of my life. I had just moved into town. I was “The New Kid”. I wouldn’t say I was popular at my old school, but usually people knew who I was. I liked my old school but I had to move. My dad left when I was just a baby, so I never really got to know him. I was brought up by a single mother, my siblings had moved out long ago and our closest neighbour lived almost a mile away. I would say I was a good kid, the isolation definitely made sure I didn’t get into much trouble. I spent most of my time reading or exploring the woods surrounding our house. A lot of kids at my old school were like that, or at least kind of like that. It made it easy to fit in, everyone had something in common. I was almost sure that I was going to stick out at the new school. My mom had died of lung cancer, so I had to move in with my aunt and uncle who I had never really talked to before. A new, now orphaned kid who used to be isolated trying to fit into a highschool in the middle of a big city. Sure. No problem at all.

I had planned the date for weeks. I always planned ahead. I loved making a big deal out of our dates, creating just the right atmosphere to fit the date I was hoping for. My mum used to tell me I was way too romantic for my generation and that a lot of people my age would just share a cheeseburger by a lit candle and call it romantic. I could, but where’s the fun in that? I think preparing a date is almost as fun as the date itself. I’m more of a guy who likes to buy champagne and make her favourite food. Today I was finally going to pop the question. I was going to go down on one knee, I was going to ask her to marry me at sunset, she would say yes and we would live a happy life, buy a great big house and maybe even become parents if the time was right.

He did this a lot. He took my hand, looked at me and smiled with that crooked smile. He always planed the most perfect dates; sometimes I wondered how he did it. Once we were drinking coffee in the park, then one of his friends walked up to us with his guitar, started playing and suddenly his band played our song. When the song was over, he asked me if I wanted to be his girlfriend. What could I say other than yes? He made me feel like a princess. He had always been there for me, right from the start.
When he first walked into my highschool, it was in the middle of my senior year. These two guys were picking on me; they had been doing it for years. I was pretty much all alone and I knew, if I tried to stop them, they would just hit harder the next time. Will simply walked up to them, punched them both in the face, grabbed my hand and told them to pick on someone their own size. That was the last time I was bullied.


I told her I had a surprise for our anniversary. I liked to celebrate the half-year anniversaries as well. It gave me an excuse to go a little over the top with all the romantic stuff. She smiled and her big blue eyes glowed with joy. Without asking any more questions, she jumped on the back of my motorcycle and we drove off. We turned on the stereo and it played her favourite song. She held on a little tighter to my jacket, leaned in, and kissed me on the back of my neck. She knew I loved when she did it.


I hugged him tightly and buried my face in his jacket. The wind blew through my hair making it go everywhere. It made me feel free, as if it blew away all my worries and left this feeling of sheer joy. I loved that feeling; I would never get it if I wore a helmet. I have tried but it was never the same. I would never feel the wind on my face or get tears in my eyes because of it. All I would get was the cold feeling on my skin. That is the one and only reason I don't wear a helmet.


She sang along to the music and I did the same. The sky slowly started to change colour. Orange, pink and purple started to spread. It was exactly what I was hoping for. We were only a few minutes away. Two of my friends had already prepared a blanket and some candles on the spot we always go. The only thing missing was us. We looked at the sky in wonder, so when we realised what was happening it was already too late. The truck hit us like bolt of lightning. We were in one of the blind spots truck drivers always were warned about. The driver hardly noticed us before he hit us. I did what I could to protect her, but she never wore a helmet. The last thing I saw was her lifeless body lying in my arms and the truck driving away as if nothing had happened.


When I looked around, I saw an unfamiliar room. My parents were sitting next to the bed I was laying in and next to them were two strangers I guessed were doctors or nurses. They started asking me questions like “do you know where you are?” and “do you remember what happened?” I answered no to both questions. How would I know? After a few more questions, they concluded that I had amnesia.



On top of the great news, I also had a broken leg and the only reason I couldn’t feel it was because I was still numb after the surgery they had to do to fix my hip. Let’s just say, this was not one of my best days. My life in general was just not the best. I beat cancer when I four, was bullied all the way through highschool, have a depression and am a little suicidal. Or at least that’s how I remembered it. I couldn’t remember much of anything from the last maybe six years. The last thing I really remembered was finding this unique spot by a huge bridge. The view from the top was amazing, it was right above a beautiful beach, the perfect place to watch the sun go down. I remembered sitting close to the edge and drawing everything I saw. Drawing was one of the best parts of my life. Drawing and photography. I’m pretty sure I would have taken pictures of it if I hadn’t forgotten my camera.




I woke up in a hospital bed five hours later. My left arm was broken and I had minor wounds but apart from that, I felt fine. When I opened my eyes, the first thing I looked for was her, but she wasn't there. I started to panic, where was she? Was she... dead? No, she couldn't be. The nurse must have seen my panicked face 'cause she quickly said: she is the next room, unconscious. "Is she okay?" I asked. "She'll live, but I'm not sure under what circumstances," she answered. It broke my heart. "Can I see her?" I asked. "Okay" she answered. Another nurse met me at the door. He told me she had a bad case of amnesia and quite a few broken bones.
I gave myself a minute to take it all in but then I went into her room. She was sleeping with her mum on the right side of the bed and her dad on the left. Her mum looked up with relief. "Thank god you're okay" she said. I gave her a quick smile and sat down next to her. I looked at the hospital bed and the girl lying in it. She looked so small and helpless that it hurt to look at her. She was still beautiful, though. With her long auburn hair and her sweet little nose. I loved her so much, and I knew I always would. I had sat in her room for a little more than 45 minutes when she started to wake up. I had fallen asleep in a couch in the corner but I woke up when I heard her move.



I couldn’t sleep. I had been laying down with closed eyes, sincerely trying to sleep, but the numbness was gone and I could definitely feel my broken leg now. I had talked to my parents about this whole thing, they had shown me pictures of me as a kid and had asked if I remembered the different scenarios, I was in in the pictures. I could still remember my childhood. Both my parents and the doctors told me that it was a good sign. I really wanted to remember. Especially because my mom had told me, I had been a lot happier the last few years. Great! I guess I was a little less suicidal. No, but it really sucked to know I had finally been happy for a while and then not being able to remember any of it.




When she woke up, she took her mother’s hand; squeezed it very tightly and asked how long she slept? "Only an hour, honey" her mom answered. I stood up from the chair and walked towards her. She stared at me with her big, blue eyes, but she didn't look at me the way she used to. "Good morning, Alaska. Are you feeling any better?" I asked. She didn't answer, she just looked from me to her parents until she said I'm sorry, but who are you?
She didn't remember me. It hurt to know she could just forget me like that. All the good times we had, all the wonderful memories. Gone. That's Will, honey. Don't you know him? "Uhm... Isn't he the guy who moved in the house next door?
Well yes, dear. Is that all you know?
"Was I supposed to know more?" "He works in a garage" ... "He fixed your car at one point." I did. Over five years ago. I had stopped working at the garage and tried to focus on my writing. At least she remembered something, but either way I was basically a stranger to her.





Right when I sat up, this (to be honest, pretty handsome looking) guy walked right up to my bed and asked me how I was feeling. I was shocked he even knew my name, guys like him would never even look at me in the past and then that dude was just sitting there like it was the most normal thing ever. I didn’t really remember him, but I recognised his face. I remembered he had fixed my mum’s car, but that must have been a long time ago. I felt sorry for him. He looked at me like I meant a lot to him, but I didn’t know a single thing about him.


I couldn't take it, so I left. I stayed in my room because the doctors told me to. I just wanted to go home. I couldn’t get her out of my mind, the crash didn’t bother me that much. My motorcycle was a total wreck, but the insurance would pay for it, so I didn’t mind. I had the same thing playing in my mind for hours; it lasted less than ten seconds. I held onto her, tried to jump and got hit. I looked her in the eyes when it was happening. She was shocked, scared and sad all at the same time. I closed my eyes when we hit the ground. When I opened my eyes her lifeless body was lying in my arms, blood ran down from a wound on her head and her hip looked crushed. The last thing I remember seeing was the pain in her face and the tears from her eyes.
Almost a week later, the doctors told me it was safe for me to go home. I tried to stop thinking about her, but it was impossible. She was everywhere the place felt so empty without her. I could see her sitting in leather chair with a book and a cup of coffee. I could smell her skin in the bed. I could hear her humming to herself while she was cleaning the house, but she wasn’t there. We had lived together for two years, but her parents had moved most of her stuff back in her old room at their house because of her amnesia.


I couldn't really do anything. I tried to stay busy, but the news must have spread because I kept getting texts every five minutes asking if I was okay or if I needed help or anything. You never know how many friends you have until you almost die. I kept looking at pictures of us, of her mostly.
My brother had taken care of our cat while I was at the hospital. He was happy to see me and I was happy to see him. She named him Nutella because of his colour. He was still a kitten, about 12 weeks old. I had thought of bringing him, or at least pictures of him to the hospital to help her get some memories back.
He reminded me of her. A little furry ball of joy. Just like her. Except for the furry ball part. Looking at him made me think of her, not looking at him made me think of her, everything made me think of her. I missed her so much.
I visited her a few times, but only when she was sleeping. I had to see her, but the doctors told me not to see her too much before she could remember a little more of the past few years. I brought her flowers every time I visited, white lilies, her favourite.
Her parents told me she was getting better. It didn't hurt anymore. The only thing she complained about was the itching under her casts.


I opened my eyes and looked up in the bright light above my bed. There was nothing new. My mom had left me a couple of books. I started reading them and I really liked them, which surprised me because I don’t remember being much of a reader. Most of them were by the same author, William B. Young. They varied from love stories to deep philosophical thoughts about life. One of them was about a man who had eye cancer, he lost his eyes and had to get used to life without visuals. He was depressed most of the first year, but he fell in love with music, got married to a pianist who loved him dearly and brought joy back to his life. It was a heart-warming story that made me wonder if I would ever experience something like it.

Sometimes I woke up to a mysterious bouquet of white lilies. At first, I thought it was my mom, but when I asked her about them she told me, they weren’t from her. Maybe I was not all alone in my forgotten life.

I did what I could to forget, to push her out of my mind, just for a second. I cooked meals I’d never heard of, read some of my favourite books to calm down, I went running and I wrote. I think I wrote more those weeks than I’d written in a year. I made up a story about a guy in a situation a little too much like my own, but in this one all he had to do was look her in the eyes and say “I love you” and then she remembered everything and they lived a happy life with no worries. I wish that would be my reality.

My friend/manager Aiden visited me a lot. He read a lot of what I had written and told me to keep on writing. He knew he couldn’t help me to get her out of my mind. I had to do it alone. He knew I liked to deal with my problems by writing about them, and when times were tough I liked to rewrite my life to make it have a better ending. Sometimes it was depressing coming back to the real world, other times it was like the weight of the world fell of my shoulders and I knew exactly what I needed to do to make everything right again. This time was not one of those times. I had no idea of what to do, I had done my research and I knew she had to get her memories back piece by piece and not have them served on a silver platter. I couldn’t see her that often and when I did, I couldn’t tell her the truth. The only thing I could do was to start over.



The hospital felt really lonely when my mom left. She had to work, she couldn’t just keep me company all day. I knew and I understood but I couldn’t help but feel lonely, left behind and a little hurt. I had overheard a conversation between my dad and one of the nurses. He said that it was a little ironic that it happened now, when everything was going my way. Both my mom and my dad kept talking about my life like some miracle had happened and everything suddenly was great. I really wanted to believe them, but the only memories I had gotten back were about school, and the only reason I remembered them was that my mom told me to read some of my old school books. I didn’t have a lot to do. I was getting sick of drawing lilies and if I read any more today, my head would explode. The doctors and nurses told me that reading could help me get my memories back, but since my head was still pretty screwed I could only read for about an hour a day. My mom had read to me a lot. She started reading a new book by William B. Young. I definitely understood why I had so many books by him. The stories seemed familiar and the way he wrote calmed me down.

I turned around and stared into the bouquet of lilies. The pain meds for my head were starting to work. I finally felt comfortable. With the words as a lullaby, I slowly fell asleep.

I was getting better at keeping her out of my head. Aiden had let me stay at his house for a while. It had been moths since the accident and she still didn’t remember me. Not even a little bit. The doctors had warned me about this. They told me to try to get over her, because even if she got her memories back, time would have passed and she might not feel the same. It was easier said than done. An old man once told me: “Trying to forget someone you love is like trying to remember someone you’ve never met.” I guess we were kind of stuck in the same boat.

Aiden helped me write. He came up with ideas and little things to make the story a little less depressing. After these almost 6 months we’d finished the book, made my trusty friend, Ella, read and approve it AND send it to my publisher. Now I just had to wait for the publisher to read it and hopefully publish it. Not that they had ever turned any of my books down, they were a little company with only five people working there. The manager, Ryan, was one of my best friends and one of my biggest fans. I was properly his biggest fan too. He read more than he wrote, but when he did, everything he wrote was amazing. It was honest, funny, touching and well, amazing.

I was beginning to act more normal, getting better at going out and being able to smile again. I mostly went out with Aiden and or Ella, they were good company and they made me feel like everything was going to be just fine. It felt great. I still got updates from Alaska’s parents but I had stopped seeing her. If I was ever going to get over her, I had to start somewhere.



The doctors described me as “physically healthy, mentally sick.” I hadn’t been allowed to leave the hospital for 3.5 months and now it was okay for me to go home. Things at home hadn’t changed that much so the first 3 months seemed fairly normal. Some of my memories had come back just by looking around my room. I remembered hanging up some pictures with my best (and only) friend Riley and scribbling the lyrics of our favourite song in between them. Riley had visited me a couple of times while I was still at the hospital. She had told me stories about the things we had done the past few years and I was even able to remember some of them. She also told me about Will. He had moved in next door and we had apparently gotten pretty close. When she talked about him, she only said vague things and mostly talked about his personality and the things he had done, not how he looked.

He didn’t live next door anymore, so I couldn’t just look out the window and find out. I wanted to remember him and find out how close we really were.

I gathered all the information I had. 1. He used to be my neighbour. 2. He is not anymore. 3. His name is Will. 4. We were close. 5. Uhm… 5… Four things in total, not the best sign. I needed to know more, so I used the best method I knew. I asked my mom. When I said his name, her face lit up like a Christmas tree. She showed me a picture of him. When I saw him, I recognized him as the guy who visited me in the hospital the first day, the guy who once fixed my mom’s car. That gave me a couple more things to add to my list. 5. He knows how to fix cars. 6. He was one of the first people who knew about the accident. 7. He was handsome. He had this choppy, curly, dark blond hair. His eyes were brown and he had a charming little crooked smile. I knew that smile. I had seen it in dreams and now, I knew it was his.



Today was a going to be a good day. I could feel it the second I woke up, the sun was shining, the birds were singing and at that point, I wasn’t thinking about her anymore. I tried to act like it was just a normal breakup, just without the awkward moments when you see them public and don't know weather to say hi or not. Don’t get me wrong, it was never easy to let her go, but I had to. I couldn’t waste my life loving someone who didn’t remember anything from the last few years we had had together. It was tough but I lived through it. Everything else in my life was going great. One of my artist friends had sent me her beautiful artwork for the cover of my book. The publishers already had some copies of my book ready, I just liked to frame the original artwork and put it up in my office for inspiration. The little wall was starting to fill up. I didn’t just hang up artwork, I used that wall for accomplishments like my highschool degree and stuff like that. I didn’t go to a university. I had the money but I didn’t really need to further my education to be a writer. I already had a good puplisher and a couple of books that didn’t sell that bad. The newest one was a bit of a risk. It was very far from most of the other things I’ve written and I wasn’t sure my fans were going to like it. All I could do was cross my fingers and hope for the best.



I was stuck in the past. Literally. The world hadn’t changed much so it didn’t take me long to get updated, all I had to do was read and watch the news a little more than I used to. I tried to stay positive and tried to find good things about this bad situation. The best thing I could come up with was all the “new” music my favourite bands had made these last five years. Another good thing was the memories the music brought back, many of them had him in them.

We had been doing things I had only dreamed about, like holding hands and laughing and singing along to the music and, and, and. He kissed me. Not just a peck on the cheek like you would get from your grandmother. He kissed me like he meant it. Like it was the most natural thing ever, like he really loved me. I started crying. I ran out the door to try to find the hill by the huge bridge. It started raining but I kept running. I had left him alone for more than 7 months, not even thinking about him once before now. I must have broken his heart. Without even knowing, I could have nearly killed him. I ran beside a big road and could see the top of what could only be the bridge. The surroundings started to feel familiar. I got closer and closer to the bridge. I got to an intersection and had the most horrible memory. The accident. No one ever told me what had happened, but now I knew. I remembered having the wonderful feeling of euphoria replaced with sheer horror in less than a second. It was a truck, and I wasn’t wearing a helmet. He had held me tightly as he jumped off the motorcycle, trying to escape the truck, but it was too late. It hit the motorcycle first, then us. He had done everything he could and the last thing I remembered seeing was the tears streaming down his face. That’s why he knew about the accident, he was there. I’m pretty sure I fainted on the side of the road. All I knew was that the next morning I woke up in my bed feeling horrible, not knowing how I got there.



The book was written, published and sold. It had only been out for a few weeks but it had already sold more copies than all my other books combined. Today I was doing my first book signing for the new book. But first, I was being interviewed for the local newspaper. This was the peak of my career so far. The interview wasn’t that long. “How did you get the idea of writing his story?” –It was a rewriting of an accident I was in a little more than half a year ago. “A rewriting?”, “how did you deal with such a traumatic experience?”, “are you back together?” The questions were more about me than about my book. I answered most of them briefly but precisely. I had tried to get over her, but being almost forced into thinking about her did NOT help. The book singing was great though. Most of the people were between 14 and 25 but I also had quite a lot of people older than that and even a few were younger. So many happy faces gathered here because of my little book. At the beginning, I was writing little personal notes but the queue was getting longer and longer so I had to just write my name. It was going great until Alaska’s mom showed up. I had just smiled and signed the book but then she told me that Alaska had started getting memories back and that she was feeling better. It made me happy and sad at the same time. I still hadn’t heard from her, did she remember me? I properly looked really weird and concerned for about 30 seconds after her mom had left, but I shook it off and kept signing.

When I was done, Aiden had planned a party to celebrate. He had done a great job, everything seemed right. He had ordered great food, played great music, held a great speech and had put decorations up in the same colours as the front page of the book. He had invited all my friends (except Alaska) and we all had a blast. I tried to talk to everyone but I ended up spending most of the night with Ella. We danced and talked and after a couple of hours, we were getting pretty drunk. We escaped the dance floor and walked outside. We sat down in the grass. She was wearing my blazer because she was freezing. She moved closer and I put my arm around her to make her feel a little warmer. She giggled a little and put her head on my shoulder. We sat like this for while, having drunken conversations. Suddenly she jerked her head up, smiled and before I knew what was happening, leaned in and kissed me. I was shocked and backed of saying “I’m so sorry” almost 500 times. I had never thought of her that way, but she clearly had. I didn’t know how to react, so I just acted like nothing had happened and went home. I liked her, but her kiss reminded me of Alaska. I realised no matter how hard I tried, I would never be able to get over her.



I wasn’t sick anymore. I had fainted, but my mom found me shortly after I did. She had driven after me when she saw I wasn’t in my room. She had carried me into the car and driven us home again. My dad came out and helped carry me back to my room. 
Today was my birthday so my parents woke me up with a cup of tea and a present. I smiled and opened it. It was a signed copy of the latest book by William B. Young. I turned it around and read on the back of it. “When Wayne first saw Amber, it was love at first sight. They had spent all their time together and loved every second. But then something terrible happened, they got in a car accident and Amber woke up not knowing who he was.” At that moment something clicked in my mind, everything came back together. Will was short for William. I finished the book the same day I got it. It was based on a true story. It was based on us. I cried almost the whole way through. I  now saw what happened through his eyes. I could read what it was like to be left alone with a broken heart. The second I was done reading everything about us came back to me. And when I said everything, I meant EVERYTHING. The day we first met, the day we first kissed, everything. In the book, Amber never got her memories back and it took Wayne years to get over her. He dated another girl but he could never love her as much as he loved Amber. I didn’t want our story to end like that; I had to change it.

I changed in to the dress I had worn the first time he said he loved me, brushed my hair and ran out the door again. I took the train to his little house like I had done so many times before. I hesitated a little before knocking on his door, but I had to do this.

I was on the phone with Aiden and then someone knocked on my door. I told him I would call him back after I had checked who it was. When I opened the door, Alaska looked up at me.

I looked him in eyes and said; William, I’m so sorry, I love you.

I leaned in and kissed her with all I had. “I love you too, and I always have”



I moved back in a few days later. We have never been more in love. I thought back to what my life used to be like and how much my life had changed since I met him. He is the only one for me, no one can tell me any different. My parents are so proud of us and the things we have been through. We moved all my things back in and he showed me back to my little art studio next to his office. I had forgotten all about my job. I had showed him some of my sketches and he had encouraged me to follow my dreams to become an artist. So I have. I'm not as known as he is, but I'm getting there. He has always been supportive; he even used one of my drawings as the front page of his fist book. I would never leave him again.




It was a miracle. She was back, and she was here to stay. We had been back together for 6 months now. I had found a new spot. It was in a tiny clearing with a hill in a forest near the harbour. If you sat on top of the hill you could see all the boats and the people, but they couldn’t see you. I knew she was going to love it. She climbed in beside me in the new car I bought for the money I had earned for my bestselling book. I had the ring in my pocket. Today was going to be the day. I took the basket of food out of the car and she took the blanket. I held her hand and led her to the hill. I told her to close her eyes when we were almost there. I held my arm around her waist and led her closer and closer. She giggled, smiled, and kept following me. When we got to the top, I told her to open her eyes back up. When she saw it she jumped with joy saying “Will, It’s perfect!” I spread out the blanket and started serving the food.

The food was delicious, the view was amazing but what made everything better was her. I loved her so much. We had been talking for hours and I knew that now was the perfect moment. I got down on one knee and asked her to marry me.

He looked up at me with his beautiful brown eyes, a little nervous, which just made it better. My eyes were tearing up and I was speechless, I nodded and said yes. He put the beautiful ring on my finger, hugged me tightly and kissed me. He would always be mine and I would always be his. We were going to spend the rest of our lives together and I couldn’t be happier about it.


We spent the rest of the night talking about nothing and everything. We were lying on our backs looking at the stars. I had done it, she was no longer my girlfriend, she was my fiancée. It felt like the stars were shining a little bit brighter just for us. I pulled her a little closer and kissed her on the forehead. She rested her head on my shoulder and closed her eyes. I started making up stories about the stars and kept talking until she fell asleep. I stared at the full moon, taking in the light. I only had one thought in my head. She said “yes”.



We didn’t have a big wedding. The only family Will had was his two brothers and their wives. None of them had children. We were only about 40 people and most of them were our friends. It was a wonderful night, Will’s friend’s band played music almost the whole night and everyone looked like they were having a good time. We had ordered great food and great wine. And since Will had planned out most of the decorations, the place looked beautiful. He held an amazing speech and so did I if I could say so myself. It was really a perfect night I couldn’t describe it any better.


When the reception was over, we drove home and I carried her over the doorstep like they always do in the movies. She looked so beautiful in her long white wedding dress. I put her down and kissed her again. Her eye shadow was a little smeared but she still looked gorgeous. She always did. We talked for a while as we always do, then when it got late we went into the bedroom.



We have been married for three years today. We are sitting in the bed with our little son, Adam. He has just turned two a little more than a month ago. He is already so big. William has made us all tea and we’re just sitting here listening to whatever Adam is trying to say, nodding and smiling. William leans in and kisses my cheek. It is getting a little crowded since I am already 7 months in with the next one. It is going to be a little girl. We have already decided what to name her: Lilly.

Just like the ones we saw in Amsterdam on our honeymoon and the ones by the hospital bed when I had amnesia. We are not just a couple anymore; we are a family. Will is a great father. He has taught Adam many useful things, like the alphabet and how to count. He has also taught him some less useful things like hiding my keys under the table, making it impossible for me to reach them. I’m so proud of my little family.




I sat in my black leather chair one afternoon watching them play in the garden. Adam was chasing the cat and Will made sure none of them got hurt.


I used to hate my life, not seeing the point of living and not wanting to wake up in the mornings. My life used to be filled with pain and anger, but he had changed it. I don’t know where I would be if I hadn’t met him. William Blaine Young, my hero. He had saved my life without even knowing and I hoped I’d been saving his too.




This story is for Meliese, Hasan and Nathalie who have inspired me to keep on writing and to share what I've written with other people. If it weren't for you I would have never done this, and I would never have started to write this at all.