Chapter One

I am sitting on the couch. I don't know how I got here, or why I am here at all. I blink my eyes in confusion. Something feels wrong.

"Mom, what's wrong?" says Henry, his voice full of concern. "Are you ok? You totally just spaced out." He says again. Henry. Henry.

Henry is your son, says an icy voice in the back of my head. He is the child of Neal Cassidy, the man who abandoned you and let you go to jail. You were going to give Henry up, but then you looked at his little fingers and his little brown eyes, and you just couldn't. You guys have lived together in New York ever since he was born. Alone, just the two of you. I rub my temples. Of course, this is all true. But then why does it feel so false.

"I'm fine, kid." I say to Henry, giving him a small smile. "I…. I just don't feel very well. I think I'm going to call it a night and go to sleep early."

Henry frowned. "Are you sure you ok?"

"Yeah, I think I'm just tired."

"Alright, if you say so. But I think your only staging this, cause you know I'm going to win." He says, sticking his tongue out at me. I look at the score; it's true, he's kicking my butt. "Well, I guess I'll just have to play alone." He said pouting. "I love you mom, goodnight. Sleep well."

"Love you too, Henry." I say, giving him a quick hug. "And don't stay up to late, you have school tomorrow."

"I wont. Promise."

I walk into my room and throw on my pink and green fuzzy pyjama pants on, not bothering to change my shirt. I tuck into bed.

I'll probably feel better in the morning, I think to myself. Though I cant shake this weird feeling. I feel like there is something I am forgetting. Maybe something I am supposed to do for work? I don't know. I fall asleep like that; trying to think of what it is that I could be forgetting.

"Mmm" Henry says, the next morning. He comes out of his room in his spider-man pyjamas. "That smells awesome!"

"Your darn right, it does! Let's see, we've got blueberry pancakes, just the way you like them. We've got some perfectly crunchy bacon, also just the way you like it." I flip a pancake off the pan, and it lands perfectly centered on the plate beside the stove.

"Oh my god! That was so awesome!" Henry exclaims. He throws his hands up, and I high-five him.

"Yeah, you really do have the coolest mom, don't you?"

"Yeah, I do." he says, grinning. "You finally got it to work, after years of trying over and over. I never once doubted you!"

Remember, the voice inside my head has returned, this has been you and Henry's tradition forever. Every morning, when you make blue berry pancakes, you have a tradition of trying to land them perfectly on the plate.

I smile at my son. "And last, but not least, we have hot cocoa, your favourite, with cinnamon, of course."

Just then, right after the words leave my mouth, a clear picture forms in my mind: a flash of a room, with tables and chairs. A restaurant. I am sitting with my son and two other shadowy figures. Just as I try to make out their faces, someone comes up to the table; Another unidentifiable figure, holding a cup of hot cocoa. And then, as the figures started to become clearer, the whole image flashes hurriedly away, like my own mind, itself, doesn't want me to see the scene. I tried to pull it back into my mind; desperate to see the scene clearly.

"Mom? Mom, are you there?" Henry's voice brings me back to reality. "Hello? Earth to mom!"

I shake my head. The scene, whatever it was, is gone.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah. Um, you should probably eat, you still have to get ready."

Henry gives me a weird face. "Ok then." He says "Anyways, did I already mention how awesome this smells?"

That evening, there is a knock on our door. I am confused. Who would come to our apartment at 7:30? I get up, and off the couch, to see who it could possibly be. I open the open the door. It's Walsh.

"Hey, Emma!" says Walsh. He has small brown eyes, shaggy and slightly curly. brown hair, and thick dark eyebrows. A big grin spreads across his face.

Walsh, your boyfriend of six weeks. It has been going well between you two. Henry likes Walsh quite a bit, and so do you. He's one of the only people you've ever truly opened yourself up to. It was weird; of course I already knew this information, but it was like… it was like before the voice said anything, I looked at Walsh, and I knew who he was, but I couldn't remember doing anything with him, I had no real examples or memories. And then, after the voice spoke in my head, my brain was filled with memories, and I could remember doing things with him; going on dates to movies, restaurants.