Chameleon ✔️

29 puzzles

          Mine are the first pair of eyes his see when he opens them. They don't shift once. His brows pull together and he watches me curiously. Or maybe confusedly. His lips part and he inhales as if he might say something, but he doesn't.

She'd told me no, at first. Said she couldn't do it; she was too weak. I'd reminded her of the dreams she'd given me and how she'd showed me her own memories, suggested she combine the two. She'd said it's easier with me because of the strong bond we share. I'd reminded her of how "Stef" had invited Eli to the party. She'd insisted that that had taken a very concentrated amount of energy. I'd told her she'd best get to concentrating.

I have no idea what dreams of which memories she'd given him in the time alotted before he'd woken up. Or if she had even been successful at all.

Eli could potentially be laying eyes on me for the first time. Again.

"Oh, praise God." Relief shoots through Theresa as she sees that he's awake. She hurries to him, kneeling beside the bed and taking his face in her hands, and he is forced to tear his gaze from mine. "Oh, thank you, Jesus."

"Ma?" His voice is raspy from lack of use.

"Yes, baby; it's me; I'm here."

"What happened?"

"You fell and hit your head, sweetie," she tells him, and her voice is gentle and calming and I almost believe her. "Andrew called you an ambulance."

"Andrew?"

"Yes. Alyssa's Dad."

He looks upon me once more. He mouths the name — "Alyssa" — silently, trying it on for size. He doesn't seem convinced.

"Where's Dad?"

"He had to run home to pick up Kei and get us both a change of clothes. He should be back any minute now." On a cue I can only call Heaven-orchestrated, Theresa's phone vibrates in her pocket. She pulls it out and examines it. "This is him." She stands. "I'm gonna go get them. I'll call the nurse for you."

"Okay."

And then there were two.

I know I should be scared or anxious or some combination of the two, but I find comfort knowing that whatever happens — whether he knows me or not — is out of my control. I have done all that I can. I wait for him to speak first.

"I don't call you Alyssa," he says, unsure.

"No."

"I didn't think so. It didn't taste right." His tongue slides absentmindedly between his teeth to wet his bottom lip. "So, what do I call you, then?"

"Aspen."

"Aspen," he repeats. "Why do I call you Aspen?"

"Because it's my birth name," I tell him. And when that doesn't seem like explanation enough, I add, "You and my dad are the only two who call me by it."

He nods, but his brow is still furrowed. "Were you there? When I hit my head?"

"Yes."

"Where were we?"

I can tell he's reaching for pieces of the puzzle so he can form some kind of image in his mind to see if it feels familiar. So I tell him the truth. "We were at a friend's house. A friend of my mom's." And then I throw in a bit of Dad's story to promote continuity. "He had a graduation gift for me."

Eli scrunches his nose. "Graduation?"

"Yes. I graduated tonight."

He looks away from my face for the first time, down to the rest of me. My dress with the caked mud on the hem. My dirty bare feet. "I like your dress," he says.