Our life was going well until the accident.
"I've never seen you before in my life. I'd like you to leave now." Those words seered in my brain as I slowly walked to my car. This was not the ending to the week I'd expected.
I glanced up at the sixth floor of the hospital. Surely, she'll come back to me.
Mindlessly, I drove home. The radio, usually a good companion, felt like an intruder. I turned it off. I turned into the parking lot and guided the car into our normal spot in front of apartment 118A.
I unlocked the door, pushed it open, and entered. I flopped on the couch and stared at the opposite wall where a framed picture of Ellie and me on the shores of Lake Michigan hung. Her sweet smile lit up the frame next to my smiling mug. She really is beautiful.
I sifted through the hospital encounter....
"See. This is us camping last summer." I held out a pic of us. "Another one of us dancing at your last birthday."
"Here we are at the Grand Canyon. Then, here, we're at Giovani's Pizza. One of your favorites. You like green olives, onions and pepperoni. See. See."
She looked stone cold at the photos, but shook her head. "I'm sorry. I don't remember. You're scaring me."
"Ellie, you've got to remember."
For an hour I tried to convince her, but nothing swayed her. The same thing for the last five days. Not a glimmer of us. The last three years were gone.
Now, I sat staring, not at the picture, but at the little black box that lay on the coffee table. The ring glinted in the waning rays of the sun through the pane of the window.