Rule No. 1: Don’t be too emotional : Chapter 58

Everything means nothing if I ain’t got you

I breathed the fresh air deep into my lungs. The breeze carried the romantic, heady scent of flowers. I felt an intense sense of familiarity with this fragrance, as if I had inhaled it a thousand times before. I gazed at the scenery before me-beautiful as a paradise-and spoke to the man pushing my wheelchair.

“It’s so beautiful here.”

“Isn’t it?” P’Jane replied with a smile.

“What are these flowers called again?”

“Lilacs.”

“Ah… they’re popular for making perfume, aren’t they? Because the scent is so romantic.”

“That’s right.” Even though I couldn’t remember the tall man gently wheeling me along, I didn’t feel afraid. On the contrary, I felt safe and familiar enough to let him take me through this field of lilacs. Normally, I don’t trust strangers easily, but I trusted him. This Big Jane who claimed to be my boyfriend.

“Do you remember that we used to come here?” his deep, gravelly voice asked. I answered honestly.

“I don’t remember, but it feels… familiar.” He let out a low chuckle.

“I suppose so. This is actually one of the best forms of Cognitive Behavioral Treatment.”

“Have you been talking to my psychiatrist?” I was slightly surprised, but not much. I felt, instinctively, that P’Jane had more of a right to my life than even my father or my mother. The tall man shrugged as he continued pushing the chair.

“Just a little. Doctors can’t reveal patient secrets, but she did tell me how I could help you.”

“And that is… ?”

“Taking you to places from your memories. Talking. Just like I thought.” I nodded. I had been doing CBT since I was in the hospital. My siblings brought me the novels I used to love so I could re-read them-the books that inspired me to become a writer. Mom brought my degree and my old employee ID for me to look at. We were taking it one step at a time.

“Are you not very good at talking?” The tall man smiled.

“Let’s just say I’m not much of a chatterbox.”” I think you’re the quiet, cool type.”

“I have a way with words when I need to, but I don’t enjoy talking just for the sake of it.”

“Oh… ” That’s a bit of a complex way to put it. I guess he means he’s persuasive and eloquent, but doesn’t like small talk. How did he end up falling for a “curiosity killed the cat” person like me? Doesn’t he get annoyed? Because I love to talk. He wheeled me along the winding path of memory. The sun was out today, but it was pleasant-not too hot. Both sides of the path were carpeted with blooming lilacs as far as the eye could see, with a breathtaking mountain view as a backdrop.

“How did we meet?”

“We were seniors and juniors at the same university. Same faculty.”

“Oh!”

“I was a senior (Year 4) and you were a sophomore (Year 2).”

“Ah.” He laughed softly.

“Why/ do you keep making those sounds?”

“What sounds?”

“Like a child.” I tapped my index fingers together again. In my mind, I was still only eighteen.

“Well, it sounds very interesting, but I don’t know how to respond because I can’t remember it anyway.”

“It’s okay. Just listen. One day you might remember on your own.”

“Okay. So that means we met when I was twenty and you were twenty-three, right?”

“You being twenty is correct. But I was twenty-seven back then.”

“What?! Were you about to get kicked out for being a ‘super senior’?” I immediately felt a bit disappointed. I like people who are good students; I don’t like people who don’t pay attention to, their studies. How many years did he struggle to finish his Bachelor’s degree? P’Jane laughed. He seemed to read my face perfectly.

“Are you disappointed that I wasn’t a good student?””… ”

“Well… you don’t have to be. I wasn’t a bad student. I have an IQ of 200. I already graduated with one Bachelor’s degree from Harvard. When we met, I was working on my second one.”

“Harvard?! The Harvard in America?”

“Yes. The best university in the world.”

“But… you said IQ 200?”

“Hey! Don’t tilt the wheelchair like that! I’m going to fall out!”

“You looked skeptical. I’m not lying, I promise.”

I nodded quickly. There really was no reason for him to lie to me.” So you’re half-American?”

“Yes… well, a quarter-American, technically. Born in New York. Dual heritage, but I hold a single citizenship.”

“American, right?” He nodded.

“I used to have dual citizenship, but Thailand has all that messy military conscription business, so I renounced it when l was fifteen.”

“I get it. As for me, I did R. O. T. C. (Territorial Defense).” P’Jane smiled.

“I already knew that.” That’s right… we’ve known each other for a long time. He probably knows everything about me.

“Actually, I never thought I’d live in Thailand seriously, so I gave it up easily back then.”

“Then why did you suddenly come to get a second degree in Thailand?”

“It’s a long story.”

“No matter how long it is, you have to tell me. Otherwise, how will I remember? You have to help me recover my memory!” “Why are you smiling like that?”

“I’m just thinking… I don’t have a problem telling it, because I’ve told you before. But I’m lazy. It really is a very long story.”

“P’Jane!” I puffed out my cheeks, hitting my lap with both hands like a spoiled child. How could he tease me like this and then just stop? P’Jane patted my head gently.

“Let’s leave some things for you to remember on your own, okay?”” Not okay!”

“Stubborn, aren’t you?”

“I just want to know!” No matter how much I grilled him, he wouldn’t let it out easily. He just kept laughing.

“I said the story is long. I’ll try to tell you everything, but of course, it would be much better if you remembered it yourself. Because a story isn’t just about the telling and the remembering-it’s about the feelings, the scents, the sounds, the atmosphere we perceive while we are living through those moments. Correct?”

“I guess you’re right.” Damn him. He’s incredibly hard to get information out of. And what he said trapped me with logic. Eventually, I got tired and stopped asking. I inhaled the sweet scent of the lilacs and the cool, clean scent of P’Jane’s body that wafted toward me. His scent was another thing that felt familiar and comforting. It made me unafraid to be alone with him, even though he felt like a stranger. Even if my brain didn’t recognize him, my body remembered the chemistry between us and his scent perfectly. Mmm… I love this smell.

“Jane.”

“Yes, P’Jane?”

“Do you know why it had to be lilacs?”

“What do you mean?”

“Do you know their meaning?” I shook my head. P’Jane stopped the wheelchair. He walked around to the front of me and knelt down. Even kneeling, he was nearly as tall as me sitting in the chair. Exactly how many centimeters tall is he? More importantly, his face was incredible-like a masterpiece of sculpture. Noble. Exquisite. I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone this good-looking before. What was this “hot” aura radiating from him? Like Jean said… how could I not be obsessed? He’s so handsome and sexy. I turned my face away because I felt like my heart was going to leap out of my chest. My cheeks were burning. P’Jane reached out, plucked a handful of lilacs, and held them out to me. I reached to take them, but he didn’t let go immediately. His sharp eyes locked onto mine.

“Purple lilacs represent the first emotions of love.” Thump-thump. Thump-thump.

“And they are also used as a question: Do you still love me?” I bit my lip, not knowing how to answer that question at all. It was still too early to answer. P’Jane, who was wearing a small smile, seemed to understand perfectly. He didn’t pressure me. He stood up and returned to pushing the wheelchair. I looked at the bouquet of lilacs in my lap, my heart swelling with happiness. I murmured to hide my shyness: “You just picked those without permission. The caretaker is going to tell you off.”

“Who would tell me off?”

“Well… the gardener.”

“The gardener wouldn’t tell off the owner of the garden.”

“You… you own this place?!”

“Yes. That’s right.” His accent is so cool. I was impressed by his accent for a moment, wishing I could hear him speak English for a lot longer. He had a deep, pleasant tone with a hint of rasp. I kept the conversation going.

“Did you get a Master’s degree? Because Mom said I didn’t get to go.”

“I finished a PhD.”

“Really? So you’re a Doctor!”

“Yes. I have a PhD in cognitive psychology.”

“That’s amazing!” He glanced at me, watching me get excited like a child, and his lips curved into a smile. I asked eagerly: “So, do you have ‘Dr.’ in front of your name too?”

“I do have that title in front of my name.”

“Wow! That’s amazing. You’re so smart. I’m really impressed-I’ve always liked smart men.”

“No wonder you loved me so much,” he teased.

“Th-that’s crazy!” I cried out, flustered.

“I’m serious. You were absolutely head-over-heels for me.”” P’Jane! No way!” The tall man laughed at my blushing face before adding, “Dr. Thamonwan and I will be consulting once a week about you. Is that okay? That means you have two high-level psychologists looking after you.”

“That sounds good.” Obviously, it was for my benefit more than anyone else’s.

“But this is the first time you’re hearing about this.”

“About you finishing your PhD?”

“Yes.”

“Wait, I thought you said we loved each other so much?”

“We loved each other deeply, and for a long time. But our lives had a lot going on. We dated, we weren’t sure of each other’s feelings, we separated, and then we came back together.” He paused.

“We were apart for five years without any contact. I finished my doctorate during that time. When we reunited and started dating again, I just hadn’t found the right moment to tell you yet.” He leaned down and draped his arms over my shoulders from behind.

“My necklace and yours are a matching set I had specially made. There’s only one of each in the world. Are they beautiful?” He whispered , bringing his necklace close to mine so I could see: a key and a padlock.

Ah… so that’s why Mom put it on me the moment I left the hospital. She wanted me to remember him quickly. I nodded.

“They’re beautiful.”

“To be honest, we weren’t often ‘sweet’ with each other. If our love were a movie, it would be a thriller, a drama, an action flick, and an erotic film all rolled into one-everything but a romance. But from now on, I intend to make our story a perfect romantic movie.” I could only fidget with the bouquet of lilacs in my hand as I listened to him. For several minutes, P’Jane said nothing more, then he straightened up and continued wheeling me along. Enjoying the view, I finally decided to ask: “So, are you a psychologist? Or a university professor? Jean said you have a job with ‘power.’ Is your power the ability to control people’s minds?” He was silent for a long beat before finally speaking.

“One of my powers is indeed controlling minds, that’s correct. But I don’t work under the title of Dr. Jane Patrick Palakorn.”

I nodded, shrugging.

“My family told me you come from a world-class wealthy family.”

“What else did they say?”

“That your parents are both important people. That you’re extremely rich and run many types of businesses. Rich from your lineage, rich from inheritance, and rich from your own doing.”

“But they didn’t mention I was part-American with an IQ of 200?” He let out a soft chuckle.

“They probably forgot. There was so much information to give me.” P’Jane didn’t say anything else until he stopped the wheelchair again and walked around to the front. This time, he didn’t sit down. His body language told me that what he was about to say was of the utmost importance. I looked up at him, my heart racing. His obsidian eyes glittered in the sunlight.

“Alright. There’s more I need to tell you, because it’s vital for your memory.” “… ”

“The truth is, Jane, you weren’t a police decoy. You went out to save me because I was about to be killed at that abandoned warehouse.”

“Then… then why did we take such a risk?” I was shocked.

“Because of… circumstances.” I listened to the entire story in total stunned silence. P’Jane recounted every detail calmly, hiding nothing-even the nature of his work, the “favors” he granted, and the dream a brilliant man like him had to build connections everywhere and “own the world.” I couldn’t say a word. My heart shook; my hands went cold. Everything I learned made it impossible to understand… How could I have loved him?

Why did I love this man? A man who is my polar opposite. I don’t like risks. I don’t like mysteries. I don’t even believe in “Grey Areas.” To me, the world is black and white. Right is right; wrong is wrong. And more than that… why did he like me? Questions swirled in my brain. I felt like I was drowning, unable to breathe, sinking to the bottom of the sea.

The tall figure crouched down, looking into my confused eyes.

“Jane, are you okay?”

“No… I… I… ”

“Calm down. Just breathe.” He held my trembling hands. I followed his instructions until I calmed down. Then, he spoke again in a voice that was level but filled with absolute conviction.

“You know that the story about the warehouse can’t be told to your family or anyone else, right? it’s a secret.” I nodded, my heart heavy with confusion and alarm.

“But I’ve quit,” he said.

“Quit what… ?”

“Quit granting favors. I’m no longer the person people can as for anything.” A silence lasted for nearly five minutes before I shouted,” Why?! From what you told me, you… you were so ambitious!” I stammered.

“I don’t see how you could just stop.”

“Because you almost died. And it was entirely my fault.””… ”

“That’s the reason.””… ”

“As simple as that. Now, I’m just a psychologist and a businessman.” I swallowed hard, looking at his face before whispering hoarsely, “You gave up your dream… just because of me?”

He took my left hand and pressed it against his right cheek. His sharp eyes were still shining.

“Jane, you are my dream and my future. To have a dream but not have you by my side… it’s meaningless.” I bit my lip. Even though I felt his decision was a good thing-and l didn’t agree with the things he used to do-why did my heart ache like this? I felt his pain and sorrow along with him. His dream of being a judge was already shattered, and now, he had to give up his other dream too. Just because of me.

“I never want to see you get hurt or be in danger again.” He threw everything away for me.

“Why… ?” “Why would someone perfect like you love someone as ordinary as me?””… ”

“I bet there are so many people who want your love. People better than me. People smarter-”

“I once wrote you a letter. Try reading it again.”

“A letter… ?”

“I don’t know where you kept it. I’m guessing it’s in your room at home. Do your homework-CBT, remember? Then you’ll know why I can’t love anyone else.” He gave a small smile.

“And you’ll know how great our love was.” I searched everywhere in my bedroom that night, Finally, I found an old letter folded inside an equally old envelope. On the front, it said Letter to Jenalee in thin, slanted English cursive.

Even though I didn’t remember P’Jane at all, and I had no memory of the events between us, I sobbed loudly when I finished reading it. I cried so hard I had to cover my mouth to stifle the sound, afraid Jet would hear me from the next room. My heart felt squeezed so tight I thought I might die right there.

I believe it now… that we really did love each other that much. But even so, I couldn’t tell myself if I could go back to loving him the way I used to. Because no matter how deep I dug into my memory… There wasn’t even a fragment of him left in my heart or my brain. Can I love him again? I don’t know the future.

And I don’t want to lie to anyone.