“Yeah.” Jon nods. “That's what I mean. You left stuff here.” He picks it up and hands it to me. “And...my sweater!” There's an old ribbed polo neck draped over one of the sofas. I've had it forever, since I was about sixteen. How come I look around in disbelief as more things spring into my vision, like a Magic Eye. That furry fake-?wolf throw that I always used to wrap around myself. Old college photos in their beaded frames. My pink retro toaster? “You used to come here and eat toast.” Jon follows my astonished gaze. “You used to cram it in like you were starving.” I'm suddenly seeing the other side of me; the side I thought had disappeared forever. For the first time since I woke up in hospital I feel like I'm at home. There's even a string of fairy lights draped around the plant in the corner; the same fairy lights I had in my little flat in Balham. All this time, all my stuff was here. Suddenly I have a memory of Eric's words, that first time I asked him about Jon. You'd trust Jon with your life.
Maybe that's what I did. Trusted him with my life. “Do you remember anything?” Jon sounds casual, but I can sense the hope underneath. “No.” I shake my head. “Just the stuff that came from my life before...” I break off as I notice a beaded frame I don't recognize. I move closer to see the pictureand feel a tiny jolt. It's a photo of me. And Jon. We're sitting on a tree trunk and his arms are around me and I'm wearing old jeans and sneakers. My hair is streaming down my back; my head is tossed back. I'm laughing as though I'm the happiest girl there ever was. It was real. It was really real. 336 My head is prickling as I stare at our faces, bleached by the sunshine. All this time, he had proof. “You could have shown me this,” I say almost accusingly. “This photo. You could have brought it along the first time we met.” “Would you have believed me?” He sits on the arm of the sofa. “Would you have wanted to believe me?” I'm halted. Maybe he's right. Maybe I would have explained it away, rationalized it, clung to my perfect husband, my dream life. Trying to lighten the atmosphere, I walk over to a table cluttered with old novels belonging to me and a bowl of seeds. “Sunflower seeds.” I grab a handful. “I love sunflower seeds.” “I know you do.” Jon has the oddest, most unfathomable expression on his face. “What?” I look at him in surprise, seeds halfway to my mouth. “What's wrong? Are these okay?” “They're fine. There was something...” He breaks off and smiles, as though to himself. "No. It doesn't matter.
Forget it.“ ”What?“ I frown, bewildered. ”Something from our relationship? You have to tell me. Go on.“ ”It's nothing.“ He shrugs. ”It was stupid. We just had this... tradition. The first time we had sex you'd been munching on sunflower seeds. You planted one in a yogurt pot and I took it home. It was like our own private joke. Then we started doing it every time. As a memento. We called them our children.“ ”We planted sunflowers?“ I wrinkle my brow with interest. That rings a tiny bell. 337 ”Uh-?huh.“ Jon nods, like he wants to change the subject. ”Let me get you a drink.“ ”So where are they?“ I say as he pours out two glasses of wine. ”Did you keep any of them?“ I'm looking around the room for signs of seedlings in yogurt pots. ”It doesn't matter.“ He hands me a glass. ”Did you throw them away?“ ”No, I didn't throw them away.“ He heads over to a CD player and puts on some low music, but I won't be put off. ”Where are they, then?“ A challenging note creeps into my voice. ”We must have had sex a few times, if everything you say is true. So there should be a few sunflower plants.“ Jon takes a sip of his wine. Then without saying a word he turns on his heel and gestures for me to walk along a small corridor. We head through a sparsely decorated bedroom. There he pushes open double doors to a wide, decked balcony. And I catch my breath. There's a wall of sunflowers all the way around. From huge yellow monsters reaching up to the sky, down to young flowers, tethered to canes, down to spindly green shoots in tiny pots, just starting to open. Everywhere I look, I can see sunflowers. This was it. This was us. From the very beginning to the latest scrappy seedling in a pot. My throat is suddenly tight as I gaze around at the sea of green and yellow. I had no idea. ”So, how long ago... I mean...“ I jerk my head at the tiniest seedling, in a tiny painted pot, propped up with sticks. “Since we last...” “Six weeks ago. The day before the crash.” Jon pauses, an unreadable expression on his face. “I'm kind of looking after that one.” 338 “Was that the last time I saw you before...” I bite my lip. There's a beat of silence, then Jon nods. “That's the last time we were together.” I sit down and gulp at my wine, feeling totally overwhelmed. There's a whole story here. A whole relationship. Growing and thickening and turning into something so strong I was going to leave Eric. “What about...the first time?” I say eventually. “How did it all start?” “It was that weekend Eric was away. I was over and we were chatting. We were out on the balcony, drinking wine. Kind of like we are now.” Jon gestures around. “And then halfway through the afternoon we fell silent. And we knew.” He lifts his dark eyes to mine and I feel a lurch, deep inside. He gets up and starts walking toward me. “We both knew it was inevitable,” he says softly. I'm transfixed. Gently he removes the wineglass from my hand and takes hold of both my hands. “Lexi...” He brings my hands up to his mouth, closing his eyes, gently kissing them. “I knew...” His voice is muffled against my skin. “You'd come back. I knew you'd come back to me.” “Stop it!” I whip my hands away, my heart thudding in distress. “You don't...you don't know anything!” “What's wrong?” Jon looks as shell-?shocked as though I'd hit him. I almost don't know what's wrong myself. I want him so badly; my entire body's telling me to go for it. But I can't. “What's wrong i s . . . I'm freaked.” “By what?” He looks dumbfounded. “By all this!” I gesture at the sunflowers. ”It's too much.
