The afternoon sun was setting when I woke up to see a smiling, handsome face staring at me. He was holding my hand; it was warm and a little sweaty like it had been there for a while. I croaked out, “Hi. My throat is dry and raw.”

  He walked over, poured water into a cup, and unwrapped a straw. Holding the straw to my lips, he said, ”Take a small sip. You threw up everything you had in your system. There's no need to shock it and have this all come right back up. They put in an IV because you were dehydrated, so you need to refresh your mouth.”

  I smile when I croak out, “Are you my new doctor?”

  He brightened my world by kissing my forehead. “No, because then we couldn’t date.”

  “Did you go home to shower and eat?”

  “Yes, baby. I went home. But I missed you and wanted to come right back. I picked up some food on the way and ate here with you. You slept through our second date,” he teased.

  “I thought it was for Friday night. What day is it?” Believing I may have been out of it longer than I thought.

  “Thursday. You can make it up to me tomorrow.”

  “But we didn’t have any plans until tomorrow. I’m confused.”

  “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be teasing you when your head isn’t working,” he apologized with a kiss on my forehead.

  “Okay. You can confuse me whenever you want so long as you kiss me better.” Two could play at being a tease.

  He laughed and kissed my head longer this time. “Any time you want or need a kiss, I’m your guy.”

  “I heard kissing booboos made them all better?”

  “Indeed, they do. Did you have another place in mind that needed healing?” he asked, wiggling his eyebrows.

  I stared at them. They made a warmth spread in my belly. I remembered him doing that before and how it affected me. “When did you do that before?”

  “Do what, honey?”

  “Wiggle your eyebrows at me. I remember you did it before, and a warm feeling filled my belly.”

  Gawking at her, he mumbled, “Earlier this morning, when you woke, you called me a bear. And I wiggled my eyebrows at you.”

  “Do I have an eyebrow fetish? Or did yours give me these feelings in the pit of my stomach?”

  I did not want her to stop speaking her mind since I believed it had to do with the drugs they had her on. But I underwent a guilty conscience because of it. Sharing with her whether she remembered or not was the right thing to do. “It’s the same thing I get when you smile at me. We have chemistry and like each other. We are both witty, and it makes me charming and you downright beautiful, witnessing the sparkle in your eyes.”

  “Wow. After one date?”

  “No, after you jumped me and kissed the bejesus out of me.”

  “I did what?” I gasped, not imagining myself doing such a thing. “What kind of a woman am I?”

  “Easy answer: a gorgeous, witty, smart woman.”

  “I’m so confused about myself and this whole thing going on. Do you think it might return to me if we kiss again?”

  “Is this you asking for a kiss?” he grinned like there was a joke behind his words.

  “Yes, I guess I am.”

  Leaning over the bed, he placed his lips on hers, and immediately she felt tingles throughout her body. His tongue traced the seam of her lips, and she parted them, wanting to taste more. He didn’t taste like mint. She remembered that robust lip lock. She remembered her core twisting and tightening for more. Her panties were damp then like they were now. She remembered the kiss and tangled tongues with Dwayne like it was their second kiss.

  Not knowing what to expect, Dwayne adjusted to easing her into a gentle kiss, but this time, she took over and sucker-punched him in the gut. They dueled and sipped and warred against each other's mouths. He swore he tasted her tonsils. It was the headiest kiss he had experienced since last night. And that had been the first ever that had his toes tingling. He had to stop it before he crawled into bed with her. He eased away from her lips, eyes closed, still savoring the kiss.

  “My memory is foggy, but you ate a mint before the last time we kissed?”

  “Yes, from after dinner. You remember the kiss? Anything else?”

  “No, just the inner turmoil of warring tongues and the sense that I shouldn’t be doing it. I’m sorry, I don’t know why I said that. Forget it.”

  “It’s fine. Your brain is trying to put things back together as it heals. Give yourself time, and it should all come back to you.”

  “The kiss certainly did. What else did we do that might jog something else?” I teased.

  “At least you still have your fabulous wit. Try to get some more rest. I’ll be here watching over you.”

  I thought that was strange, considering we only had one date. Most people would have bolted by now. But not looking a gift horse in the mouth, I felt safer with him here. Truth be told, I did not want him to leave. It gave me a peaceful feeling in my gut as I drifted off, still holding his hand.

  The doctor visited and left, saying they were keeping her for the night and would try an MRI again in the morning. There was a limit of one bout of vomit per day. I slept through the whole exchange. Dwayne told me the details of the doctor's visit when I woke. It was fine by me; the noise of that machine was horrific, and I had no desire to go through that experience again. Maybe my memories would be in place by morning, and there would be no need to scan the noggin. Wishful thinking.

  By morning, I felt more myself, but I still couldn’t remember any of the details of that night or before. And my head was throbbing. If you asked a question, the doctor said that sometimes I spouted out the correct answer, not thinking about it, due to muscle memory. So, off to the MRI again to scan and hope for answers to this predicament.

  I made it through the scan without barfing, thank God. The doc should be in at any time with the results. It is nerve-racking sitting around waiting for news. Dwayne tried to entertain and put me at ease, reassuring me I’d be fine in a few days. But he’s not a doctor, so what does he know?

  Finally, mid-afternoon, Dr. O’Brien comes in with no smile. Does that mean bad news? Is something wrong? Will I recover? My thoughts are swirling around and won’t stop the worst-case scenario game. “Doc, just give it to me straight, no pussy footing around,” I encourage him frenetically.

  “The MRI showed no bleeds, overly serious swelling, clots, or tumors. There is a small bruise and minimal swelling. Regarding the test results, you should return to normal in a week or two. You must be monitored, rest, and have no bright lights for at least a week. Once the migraines subside, you can take care of yourself. I assume your boyfriend here can watch over you?” he asked briskly, almost a statement and not a question. Not waiting for an answer, as if it was a done deal, he said exactly what I wanted to hear, except the live with your boyfriend part of his statement.

  “We will discharge you this afternoon, so long as your man here promises to oversee your care. If the migraine gets worse, your nausea does not subside, or you faint, you need to come back immediately. Otherwise, if you progressively recover, please see your doctor in two weeks for a follow-up. The instructions will be with the nurse. No meds except Ibuprofen for the migraine, and no more than 800 ml per day. Roughly two in the morning and two at night before bed. Resume normal activities once the migraine is gone or your primary doctor gives you the okay. Any questions?” he asked this time.

  “Yes, I live alone. Can’t I go home and rest?” I asked, hoping for positive feedback but knowing it was not forthcoming.

  “No, young lady. First off, do you know your address? And since you live by yourself, there is no way for you to call an ambulance if you fall into a coma; who would know?” he literally scowled at me.

  “Ok, I’ll find someone to stay with and have them pick me up.”

  “No, she’ll be coming home with me, Dr. O’Brien. I have vacation days for the next couple of days, and then when I’m working, I can stop to check in and keep an eye on her,” said Dwayne.

  My mouth hung open, flabbergasted. “What?”

  He looks me in the eye, “I will take care of you.” Speaking to me like I was a three-year-old.

  Fuming, I would have yelled had my head not been pounding already, “One date does not make me your responsibility. I can call one of my friends.”

  “OK, who?”

  “Um, I know I have friends. Where’s my phone?” I was concerned that no one was popping up in my brain.

  “I have no idea, and it was not my first concern when you were unconscious. Probably in your car.”

  “Where’s my car?”

  “Don’t know; it was towed away. But I can make some calls to find it. In the meantime, you're coming home with me. You, at least, are comfortable with me. I don’t know if you will recognize or remember any of your friends?” he pointed out.

  “Damn!” I hated that he was right about this, and I would have to go home with him.

  They both looked to where the doctor stood, but he was long gone.

  “Don’t worry, I have a spare bedroom, chicken soup, and crackers. You’ll have plenty of rest time to heal. My place isn’t the Ritz, but it’s comfortable. You’ll be safe there until your memory returns. I promise,” he swore to me.

  I felt he did not make promises often, but he kept the ones he made. I sensed his word was essential to him. The nurse came through the door, holding a bunch of paperwork. She asked where Dwayne had parked and that he retrieve the vehicle and meet us in the front vestibule. I signed what needed to be signed with my first name since I was unconscious when I arrived, and I took my release papers with me. I don’t know who I am, and neither did they. Good luck in billing me, I laughed to myself. I dressed in the bathroom in my dirty clothes from date night. Oh shit, these pants will never do. Maybe the kind nurse will let me take home a blanket to hide my ass. I will need clothes. This is a disaster. I sat on the toilet with my head in my hands, wanting to cry but knowing it would create too much pressure. I stared at the floor. I must have been staring for some time, as a knock on the door startled me.

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  “I’m coming.”

  “I was checking on you to make sure you didn’t pass out,” the nurse sweetly said.

  “No, I have an issue. I was on a date and wore sexy pants, but I could use a blanket to cover my ass, at least until I climbed into the car. Please?” I begged; it was embarrassing to walk around in the hospital gowns with your ass hanging out but to do it purposefully, damn.

  She smiled and handed me one of the thin, small blankets, and I wrapped it around my waist.

  “Thank you.”

  “No problem, happy to help.”

  She was very nice.

  I sat in the wheelchair and let her push me to Dwayne’s car. He came around and opened the door for me. Seeing the blanket wrapped around me, he smirked. Oh shit, he knew what I was wearing. Why would I wear these jeans on a first date? Some things did not make sense to me. Did he know what my tat said?

  I struggled to pull the blanket out from under me as I sat. The nurse said, “Don’t worry; keep the blanket.”

  Grateful, I thanked her as Dwayne reached in and snapped the buckle into place. Déjà vu. This happened before, and I experienced the scene in my mind, felt the electricity flowing, and smelled Dwayne’s aftershave and the smirk he gave me. But the sensation was at night, and this was afternoon.

  “This happened before. You adjusting me into my seatbelt?” I asked him.

  “Yes, did you just remember it?”

  “It was more like I experienced it. I could see, hear, smell, and feel you, but it was at night. Weirdest thing I’ve ever gone through,” she whimpered, stunned by it. It brought up intuitive deductions about Dwayne. Trust was one of them, but so was being secretive. It made no sense to me. My head started pounding like a drum; it was time to stop pondering it. I wanted my pillow and blanket – comfort.

  “I have no clothes. Can we go to my house and at least pick up some stuff?”

  “Sorry, I don’t know where you live. We had met for our date. You weren’t comfortable bringing me home yet,” he said, contemplating if he could look her up in their database and find her name and address. “Tomorrow, I’ll find your car and information for you; for tonight, how about one of my t-shirts and sweatpants combos?”

  “Okay,” I tentatively muttered. “But do I know you well enough to go home with you?”

  “I’m a police detective, so I am the best person to find out who you are, and we did have a mind-altering kiss.” Trying to put her at ease to stay at his house.

  I stared out the window, not seeing anything. I was nervous about going to his place, but not for the reasons I should be scared of. Something else was happening, but I had no clue what it was. My only option was to follow through and compensate the best way I knew how. Which was doing what? My head pounded at these thoughts floating around in my brain, like little warning signs of imminent danger.

  Arriving at Dwayne's house, I noticed his yard was nice and neat, with flowers along the front of the house. Unusual for a lone workaholic man. “You have a nice yard,” I said. Having no idea why I would say such a thing.

  “Thanks. I’ll let my neighbor know; she is the one who takes care of it. I never had time, and she was sick of living next to an unkempt yard, dragging down her property values. It’s a win-win situation. I throw her some money for flowers, and she handles the rest.”

  “So, does that mean to expect a messy house?” I partially teased.

  “It isn’t the kind to eat off the floor, but you can sit on the couch. I had a feeling when I came home for a shower to make up the spare bedroom, just in case. Concussions are not to be trifled with, and your memory is not what it was; I figured you might need a place to stay for a few days. I like being prepared for what could happen,” he shyly said, unsure how she would take his presumptuousness.

  “Does this mean you always carry condoms with you?” I asked. Then, realizing what I had just said, I blushed so red I felt like a tomato. “OMG, I don’t know where that came from, sorry.”

  Dwayne burst out laughing, “I love where your mind went, but no, I don’t.”

  Wondering if I often stuck my foot in my mouth, I decided the best policy was to keep it shut. Walking in the door, I saw that the house looked like a typical three-bedroom with two baths. Nothing fancy, but it was clean. After a brief tour, Dwayne showed me to the guest bedroom, which was plain but doable. It wasn’t like I was going to live here, just visiting. It made me wonder what my place looked like. Was it the same type? I would learn soon enough as my memories reappeared.

  I was tired, and Dwayne suggested a nap before dinner. I took him up on the idea, unsure if I would sleep or not, with all these questions running around in my head. But a pillow sounded good. Asking me what I wanted for dinner. I wasn’t aware of what I enjoyed eating. “Whatever you are having will be fine. I’m not positive I will wake up or be hungry later. Don’t go to any trouble for me.”

  “We had sushi the other night, and I remember what you ordered, and I can refrigerate it until you are hungry. How does that sound?” he asked, sure it was a great solution.

  “Okay.” At that moment, I was not particular about anything except lying down.

  “I’ll let you rest. Let me know if you need anything,” he stated, aware that I was uncomfortable about being in a place I didn’t know. Then again, I didn’t know anywhere, so what difference did it make?

  Sleeping for eight hours straight, I woke up to a banging noise. Not sure of where I was, I peeked out the bedroom door. Dwayne was walking down the hallway towards me.

  “Sorry, I dropped the remote on the floor. I was afraid it would wake you, so I’m checking on you. Are you feeling better?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t remember how I felt before. I am peckish and definitely thirsty. Can I have some water, please?”

  “Of course. Do you want to sit at the table or on the couch?”

  “Couch sounds comfy.”

  He led me to the soft, downy, light gray cushions with the scrunchy fuzzy blue pillows and a medium blue check sheepskin blanket thrown over the back. As I sat, I thought this was more of a woman’s touch in the living room than a bachelor's. There must have been a long relationship; maybe they even lived together. It must not have ended very long ago. As I looked around the room, I noticed no pictures of people; they were just some blown-up wildlife pictures, more of a man’s style. He walked to the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of water and the sushi out of the frig. Heading to me, he set the stuff on the small table before me. He asked, “Would you like a TV tray?”

  “Um, no, this is fine,” not wanting to put him out.

  “It’s no problem, and it will only take a minute. They are right there,” as he pointed to the tray holder. “It would be less strain on your neck and head from bending over.”

  “Okay,” it seemed like he was determined that I use one.

  He propped the small table in front of me and adjusted the water and food to it. I wasn’t hungry, but the water was a godsend. I drank half a bottle by the time I put it down.

  “Would you like anything else? I can turn some music on or the television,” he asked, concern in his face.

  I wasn’t sure why he frowned that way. Like I was a broken doll. I ran my hands through my hair and found a rat’s nest. I turned red as I figured out what he was frowning about. I was a mess. “I could use a shower. Do I have shampoo and, most importantly, conditioner in the bathroom?” I asked as my embarrassment played on my emotions. I wanted to run and hide, but I figured he understood my dilemma. I wasn’t in the right headspace to care, yet I did with a stranger. What’s wrong with me?

  “Yes, it contains everything you need, including towels, a change of clothes, and a toothbrush.”

  “You are a great host for the unfortunate. I’ll be back once I’m refreshed. Hopefully, I’ll have an appetite,” I muttered, leaving him to his own devices.

  The bathroom did indeed have everything I needed. Thinking he was very thoughtful, or it was leftovers from the previous girlfriend. I wasn’t sure which one, but I was grateful to have what I needed to feel better. The hot shower felt wonderful, but the water pounding on my head did not. So, I was only in the shower for as long as it took to wash and remove my tangles. After dressing, I was exhausted. What little energy I possessed was drained. I returned to my room to find my water bottle and two ibuprophen beside my bed. The man was a marvel, seeming to know what I needed before I did. I slipped the baggy sweatpants off and slept in Dwayne’s white t-shirt. I sniffed at the shirt, but I only smelled laundry detergent. Why did I do that? Was I hoping to smell him on the clean t-shirt?

  I didn’t bother to say goodnight but put my head on the pillow and drifted off till morning.