I run my fingers over what looks to be dried tearstains.

It’s September 16, 2008, exactly one month since I have last seen you and three weeks, two days and four hours since I have last talked to you. You’re going nuts by now I’m sure. I have already lost some of my memories, not all, but enough for the doctors to prepare me. You see, I have brain cancer. The tumor is sitting on my memories of you babe and I am losing them slowly. There is a 99.9 percent chance I won’t remember you after my surgery. I have to give myself something to look back on of our time together, if I make it out of this alive.

They say healing will be hard enough, let alone dealing with being sad that I am missing something or someone I no longer have those memories of. My mom is calling your parents on Thanksgiving and telling them. I am glad I won’t be there because I know you and Drake are going to be devastated, especially if I don’t make it out.

I take the bottom of my shirt to my eyes, wiping the tears that are freely falling down my face. I feel her presence again and it causes me to look up. She looks how I feel. She has two bottles of wine in her hands. She sets one down and pops the cork in the other, handing it to me. I take it and start drinking while she pops hers. She silently gestures me to keep reading. I force myself to look away from her beautiful tear streaked face.

How screwed up is this Babe? One month later and I’m dying. One month after we promised, no matter what happens, we would be one another's infinity and I am freaking dying. They say it’s what is best for me. You always stress how important it is to do what’s best for me. I hate that they are making me leave you. I hate them and I hate this stupid tumor that is making me forget you. I just hope someday that you get this letter and I hope that I am the person giving it to you. I am putting all our memories together so one day, if I survive, I can have these stolen memories back.

I only hope that you live out our dream of rocking it out in Talania and going to college. I hope that you are happy. I want you to know Tristan Monroe that you are and always will be the best thing that has happened to me, even in our tender teenage years. Wow, that makes me sound old. Oh, the irony. Okay, I am serious, if when you read this, you still hate me for leaving you, I want you to know, no, I need you to know, that I love you. You are my love, my promised one with infinity stamped on you. I am so sorry I forgot you. Please forgive me for breaking our promise.

Love always,

Your crazy-ass beautiful girl.

XoXo Infinity

Fuck being strong! I fall to the floor and let it all out. I see her knees drop to the carpet and I look up. She’s gulping her wine while crying and looking at me. My heart is being ripped out of my f**king chest again! She sets the bottle down, sighing and wiping her eyes. I finally calm down and drink nearly all my wine. Forever passes by without either one of us saying a word. I need to break the silence. It’s killing me.

“So are these the memory boxes?”

She looks from me to the boxes. “Yeah. I just opened that one when I spotted the letter I wrote myself and the letter I wrote you.” She gestures to the paper still tightly in my grip.

“Can I read your letter?” she whispers.

Why can’t she? She wrote it.

“Evelyn, you wrote it. Of course you can read it.” I hand her my letter.

A few moments go by before she hands it back.

“What promise did we make to one another? The one you said you wished you never made. It’s in the letter,” she whispers.

“Maybe if you see and heard the promise it would be better.” I gesture towards her boxes. “I know you have a copy. If you kept everything it should be in here.” We move over to the boxes, emptying the contents onto the floor. I start putting them in a time line like order.

“What are you doing?” She laughs, even though it is a sad broken laugh.

“I am making out a time line that we can see.” I shrug.

As I am going through our keepsakes from carnivals, dates and everything else, I decide I need more wine.

“Can I grab some more wine?”

She nods her head, too focused going through everything.

When I come back in, Evelyn is sitting completely still, staring at something in her hands. I take a few steps forward and then I see it: ‘The Promise’.

“I see you found part of the promise,” I mumble.

“Tristan, what is this?” she whispers.

“It’s exactly what it looks like.”

“We were teenagers.” She looks up at me, eyes bloodshot.

“Yeah, but we were teenagers desperately in love. Would you like to watch the video? You should have it—,” She scrambles through the piles of DVD jewel cases before I can even finish my sentence.

“What’s it labeled Tristan?” She’s literally scrambling around.

If I wasn’t so sad I would laugh, but her angry tone catches me off guard.

“Tristan, WHAT IS IT LABELED? I know you know.” She is frantically flipping through the cases.

“The promise,” I whisper.

Why does this shit have to be so hard?

“Got it!” She pops up from the floor so fast it makes my head spin. I notice the other part of ‘the promise’ is still in her other hand.

She turns on the big screen, grabs the remote to turn on the DVD player, and pops the disc in. After she pushes play, she just stands there, waiting.

I close my eyes, because this one video is all me.

My voice comes crackling through the speakers.