2
"Mark, would you tell me more about myself? What happens to me?"
"It was a car accident, and you get badly hurt and you lose your memory."
"And you are my…" Her eyes keep wandering around until she see the picture behind above the bed, where she's in shinning white dress with her head laying on his shoulder.
“Husband.” He names it short and neat.
She falls into silence. And he fills the gap considerately. "The car lost control on your way back and I am sorry I was not with you there."
"I am glad you are not with me, or who may take care of both of us, and tell us who we are in patience."
He laughs, finding himself a space to sit on the bed beside her. She tries to stay still and not to shrink from him out of shyness.
She spins the fork to get the spaghetti around it. "How did we meet with each other?"
"You are a sales and you tried to sell your products to my company."
"Have I quit my job after we decided to get married?"
"No, you said that it will be the last thing you wanna do. You attach importance to the ability of making money. And I respect your choice."
She hasn't made a comment and he continues. "We would have the honey moon once you get better."
Where to? She wonders in her mind. And he gives the answer by soliloquy. "You like the North of Europe, saying that you want to see the tulips in bloom as seas under the windmills of Netherlands, climb the cliff above the waves at the coastline of Norway, watch the polar lights with your own eyes."
She licks her lips while she keeps chewing the spaghetti smells like cheese, enjoying this scene where a man is talking something she does like excitedly as if they were his own preference.
She picks up a mulberry and lays it among her teeth, "Can you tell me more about my characteristic? What kind of person I am?" She's always wondering how does she looks like in a man's eyes, and here comes her chance. It is such natural to ask everything you are supposed to know if you lose your memory.
"You are shinning the way you are. Talkative, easygoing, considerate and detail minded. But you are sharp and indifferent, unapproachable and mysterious sometimes, especially when you are hurt. You are good at being silent, making poker face and playing cold war. And I guess that it is one of your ways of self protection and isolation. You play it cool most of the time but it doesn't mean you are not willing to show something real in certain time..."
This may be the best comment she has ever got from a man, accurately vivid. She wonders how long they have been together to make him know her so bloody well. But she understands it well that it doesn't take long for the right one to get to know you all rounded. Maybe this is what he exactly looks like, too. Someone knows the other the way he knows about himself because there are so many similarities between them. And it is like looking at the mirror for your own image when you two stand face to face.
She couldn't help looking into his eyes green as jungle, feeling safe when she sees the reflection of her own. She find that she likes the way he smiles. It is warm and she sees something hard and cold within her heart is melting away.
It is amazing even if it is just a dream. But she feels a little bit pity when she thinks about it's gone when she wake up tomorrow and finds herself back to the real world with the parents who never sees each other eye to eye and a family horrible.
"Dear, get you wontons before they go cold. " He passes her the spoon. "What's on your mind? You just look straight into my pupils."
"Have I told you about my parents?" She asks.
"Not really, you keep silent about them."
"Do they know that we get married?"
He reflects on for a little bit then says "I am not sure. You haven't invited them to the ceremony."
She is not interested in pursuing the answer of the question. And she drops it. That's exactly what she will do in reality, not informing the family of her marriage.
She picks up one wonton with the spoon, but the pain in her gets her shaking, and the spoon falls onto the table. If it is at her home, her mother drops something onto the table during the dinner, the nagging negative and cankered of her father follows. He picks it up, gets another wonton back into the spoon, reaching her mouth ajar in slight surprise. He keeps his smile with him. And she takes that wonton under his gentle gaze.
She has something she would hardly imagine to have as a girl grown up in an unspeakably shabby family. And she wants this in her life some day.
"Mark, it's really sweet to have someone like you." Her eyes could tell him she does mean it.
