Olivia's POV
I snap my eyes to Mrs. Davis's the moment I realize that what she might be talking about is the night on which I was hit by the car. We are still standing in the middle of the hospital hallway, with Samuel positioned right beside me.
"Mrs. Davis, areâ"
Before I can finish, Mrs. Davis glances at the watch wrapped around her wrist. "Oh no, I'm running late. I'm so sorry, but I really have to hurry now."
She almost flies past me, giving me no time to respond. And by the time I manage to rotate my body to follow her, she is already several feet down the hallway. I take a step forward, but Samuel clasps his hand around my wrist and forces me to stay put.
"The doctor said no running," he reminds me.
"I think she knows something about the accident." I try to tear my arm out of his hold, but it's of no use.
"You can ask her tomorrow. You need to rest."
"But..." I try one last time to free myself from Samuel's hold, but it doesn't work.
He forces me to follow him in the opposite direction from the woman who could be holding the key to me learning what happened on the night of the accident.
*
The next morning, I stop in the middle of the sidewalk in front of the intersection from my accident and for a second savor the new freedom of walking without crutches. Then I close my eyes and wait for the memories from that night to reappear.
Instead of images from the accident, first Mom's and then Samuel's warning to take things easy swarm my mind. After them follows Dr. Kate's warning and I automatically reach up to the back of my head. Both the gauze and the bandage are already deep within the trash can inside my house, but that doesn't stop the doctor's warning words from reappearing.
It takes me another five minutes to get rid of the pesky people telling me to take things easy and not to do anything impulsive before I can finally focus on the darkness behind my closed eyelids.
A couple of minutes in, I realize that instead of searching for my missing memories, I'm starting to doze off. With a loud groan, I snap my eyes open and turn my back to the intersection. I head down the street in the direction of the café from my date with Nick. Maybe a fresh cup of coffee will help me find my missing memories.
At the corner of the café, I run into an older woman bent toward the ground. At first, all I can see is the top of her short gray hair and the hand she has resting on her lower back. Then I notice the countless flyers scattered around her and I immediately crouch down to help her. As fast as my hands allow me I gather the flyers into my hands, and then help the older woman back into a standing position.
"Thank you." She pushes her thick glasses closer to her eyes and smiles at me. "You saved my back just now."
"It's no problem." I look at the flyers still in my hands and notice that they're ads to promote the café we're standing in front of. "Don't tell me they tasked you with distributing these flyers?"
"No, no." The woman chuckles. "I'm just filling in for my grandson. The lazy ass should have shown up an hour ago, but I bet he's still slacking off somewhere."
"Then I'll help you." I grab the flyers with both of my hands and smile at her.
"There's no need to."
"Of course, there is." I back up a couple of steps to prevent her from taking the flyers back from me. "I can't allow an old lady like you to do a job that is meant for someone as young as me."
I take another step back while reassuring the woman that I don't mind the work. After all, I couldn't live with myself if I don't help an old lady like her. "It's okay. I got this."
I'm just about to take another step away from her when a loud honk causes me to jump forward. A car brushes past me, which finally causes me to realize that I'm no longer standing on the sidewalk. Like a lunatic I'm positioned on the edge of the road; the only thing missing is me waving at cars that drive past me. The moment I realize this, I jump back onto the sidewalk and take another couple of steps backward, just to be sure.
"Are you okay?" The older woman hurries over to me.
"I'm fine." I shake my head and look up and down the road for the nearest crosswalk. When I spot one about a hundred yards to my right, I wave goodbye to the older woman and then head in the said direction.
While walking further and further away, I can't seem to shake off the scare the car just gave me. How could I have stepped onto the road without noticing? Despite my impulsive tendencies, I have always thought that road safety was something I never underestimated.
Now, however, it's starting to dawn on me that maybe I'm not immune to stepping onto a road without knowing the grave move I'm about to make.
*
Two hours after I volunteered to distribute the flyers for the café, I find myself at the edge of the small park near the intersection from the accident. The café is within a ten-minute reach, however, because the throb in my ankle starts to turn more and more painful, I head for the empty bench at the edge of the park.
Who would have thought that Mom was right when she insisted on me getting a cast? It hasn't even been twenty-four hours since Dr. Kate removed the cast and I'm already putting too much strain on my left foot.
The moment I plop myself onto the surprisingly clean and odor-free wood, a loud sigh escapes my mouth. I rest the left-over flyers on my lap and close my eyes.
"You going to be here long?"
The unfamiliar voice causes me to pry open my eyes and I find a boy standing at the edge of the bench. He looks about fifteen, with the thickest pair of eyebrows I have ever seen and with a gold chain wrapped around his neck.
"I'm not sure. I just got here," I say.
"This is my bench." He rests his hands on his hips.
I look down at the bench and then scoot to its right side. This creates more than enough space for him to sit as well. Instead of a grateful smile, the boy mumbles something under his breath and sits onto the other side of the bench.
"What did you say?" I turn my body to the side, so I'm facing him. "I didn't quite get it."
"You expect me to take a nap while sitting?" He groans and leans his head so far back that for a moment I'm afraid his neck might snap.
"Here." I take the top flyer from the pile resting on my lap and hand it to him. "Instead of a nap, you can go there and have a cup of coffee. I haven't yet tried it, but I hear it's superb."
The boy peeks at the flyer and then turns to look at me with his eyebrows flattened in a straight line. "You're the one." He eyes me from my wine red shorts to the gray long-sleeved shirt I'm wearing. "You work there?"
"No." I shake my head. "I'm just helping out an old lady who's filling in for her lazy grandson."
"You know her?" he asks.
"Who? The old lady? No, not at all. Why do you ask?"
"You want me to believe you're helping somebody you don't know?" He snorts.
"Why not? She's old, and she looked like she could use some help. It's what everyone would have done in my place."
"You're weird." He cocks his head to the side and looks at my face more carefully. "Have we met before?"
I mimic his intense stare and take in his dark eyes which are matched with the black outfit he's wearing. No matter how carefully I scrutinize him, I'm sure I've never seen him before.
"I don't think so."
"You sure? There's something about you..."
"Olivia Han," I say, eyeing his reaction to my name.
All he does, however, is to raise his eyebrows into two wide arches. "What's that?"
"It's my name. Olivia Han," I repeat, but still nothing. "I wanted to see if you find it familiar, but it looks like you've never heard it before. What's your name? Maybe I'll recognize your name?"
Instead of introducing himself, the boy shakes his head and slumps deeper against the bench. "It's too long. Now, get off my bench."
With a snort, I stand up to see what he is going to do. And the boy doesn't disappoint. The moment I free the bench, he stretches across the entire length of the bench. In the lying position, he folds his arms underneath his head and closes his eyes, while the flyer I gave him floats to the ground beneath the bench.
"I knew you'd be this reckless."
The groan causes me to turn away from the lying stranger. A couple of steps away from the bench stands Samuel with his arms predictably crossed in front of his chest. The look he's shooting me tells me that I have a lot of explaining to do, starting with why I'm back here.
***
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- E