I was on my knees with my head on the ground, sobbing. I had only met this person a couple days ago why did it hurt so much to walk away from him. But the reality was I have known him for months. With the swelling and the bruises to his face I didn't recognize him. Not to mention I just never really cared to know who he really was. He was just a client. I knew that when he remembered who he was that I would have to step back and walk away from him. I knew that, why does it hurt so bad to actually, physically walk away.

            I couldn't be in this hospital anymore. I had to get away from everyone. I get in my car and drive and drive. I had driven two hours south of Los Angeles to a site that I had drove to every single day for a year. I think that if I still lived in San Diego, I would continue to drive here day after day.

Stones of all sizes and shapes surround me. The emptiness I felt the day she left this earth still resides inside me. I have never gotten over the death of my mother. I have never been able to deal with it. One year and three months of avoidance. Throwing myself into work as got me to the point I am today but at some point I need to face it.

"How did I become this person?" I say out loud. With each question, I get louder and louder. "How did I get so wrapped up in myself and my work that I forgot how to feel any emotion? Why can't I let anyone in? Why did I have to lose you?" I pound my fist into my leg. "It should have been me... You should be alive today... I need you more now in my life than ever before. I need you to tell me what I should do? I need you to tell me your okay. I need you..."

            The drive back to L.A was a blur. I don't remember driving from her grave spot to my apartment but there I was staring at an empty apartment, with an empty heart, and an empty world.

            I lay in bed staring at the ceiling until I fell asleep hours later. Only to be woken up by the phone ringing. When I opened my eyes, I realized that it was already the next morning. I had slept the entire day away. It was the office. Heaven forbid I not be in there an hour before my shift normally starts. I can't do this. Life happens, things change, people leave.

            I get up, shower, and get on my way to the office. I stop at the Starbucks just down from the office. It makes me think of him. He hated hospital coffee. I shake my head... I have to focus on what I need to do. I have a job to do. Breathe.

"Melissa... where have you been. I know where Justin is... I know why he hasn't been answering your phone calls..." Tracey says as I walk past her and straight into my office. She comes in, "Are you okay?"

"It was a rough weekend."

"So, Justin Timberlake was in a car accident. Memory loss the whole nine yards, that's why he hasn't called you."

"I know."

"You know? Since when?"

"Depends."

"What do you mean it depends?"

"Do you remember me telling you about that car accident last week, the guy I had helped..."

She nods her head yes, then it hits her. "Oh my god... that was Justin."

"Yes."

"You were with him the entire time... how did you find out?"

"The police brought his phone to me, I called his mother... When she walked through those doors I knew who she was, I knew who he was at that moment."

"What's going on now with him?"

"I don't know I haven't seen or talked to him since I left the hospital yesterday afternoon."

"I'm surprised you didn't stay."

"Well this gentleman he..." he has a name now, I thought. "Justin... got his memory back. There was no need for me to be there."

"So, you have no interest in him?"

"He is a client."

"That's not what I asked."

"He is a client. That's all."

"So you spent an entire week with a guy you didn't know, who turned out to be someone you knew and it meant nothing?"

"Tracey, he was someone that needed help. I helped him. He doesn't need my help anymore. Case closed."

She mumbles, "Ok..." as she walks out of my office.

            I had to much work to do to think about what Mr. Timberlake was doing, regardless how many times I thought about him. Things were not going to change. He is a client. He is Justin Timberlake and as much as I didn't want to, I had to make a trip to the hospital to get some information from him. I had to do my job.

            After being in the office and stalling for nearly nine hours I decided I had to get this over with. I pack up my things and shut off the light. I was the only one left in the office again. So I walked down a dim light hallway to the elevator, hoping my phone would ring or something would happen to prevent me from making this trip to the hospital.

            There was no traffic, no waiting at traffic lights, no stop signs... anything. This world was seriously against me. I felt so much pressure in my chest as I started to walk down that last stretch of hallway before his room. Why was this so difficult? Seriously this is a client that needs to answer some questions, get yourself together.

            I knock on his door and step inside. Lynn says hello but the only thing I see is a woman embracing Justin. I couldn't see who it was but she kissed him. Maybe he was seeing someone else. Maybe Jessica was right with her allegations.  I had a knot in my throat. I turned and walked out of the room. I hear someone call my name but I couldn't do this, I couldn't be here. I had to contain myself.

            What was my problem?

            I had a job to do. I had to get a statement from a client. I had to find out what he wanted people to know and what he wanted to keep on the dark side. I had to find out who that woman was. Contain yourself Emily and do your job.

            I sit in the waiting area for a moment, hoping to convince myself enough to go back in there. Maybe I just wasn't used to seeing someone else spending time with him... maybe it was that I missed having someone to eat dinner with... maybe I had officially gone off the deep end.

            The woman that was in Justin's room is walking down the hallway towards me. Shut the fuck up. She smiles at me, "Emily. It's nice to see you again."

"Jessica? Why are you here?"

"Justin was in a car accident, of course I'm here."

"Only a week too late."

"Emily, we are meant for each other..." She presses the button on the elevator. "I don't know what is going on between the two of you but just so you know we will work this out. We will be back together." She steps on the elevator and the doors close behind her. He went back to her.

             My phone is buzzing inside of my blazer jacket. Without even looking at the phone I answer it, "Emily Clarkson."

"Em."

It was him. I didn't want Justin Timberlake calling me Em.

"Em, please answer me. Please come back, I want to see you."

I don't say a word to him, I hang up the phone.

            I walk back down that hallway and enter the room. I can't even look at him. I'm not sure if I am mad or relieved. He had his life back. All of his current life and his old life.

            I continue to look down at my notebook, I began to ramble very fast "Justin I have to get a statement from you about everything that is happen. Obviously we don't need to worry about the breakup. I see that you worked that out. What do you want to say about the accident, about your schedule, your fans, whatever I just need a brief statement so I can get back to the office?"

He is calm and collected, "Em."

I look up at him, "Don't call me Em."

"Okay... Emily. I don't want to talk about a statement. I don't want to talk about anything relating to work."

"Justin, I'm your PR agent, I just need a statement so I can go."

"I'm not giving you a statement. Screw that. I want to talk to you."

"Well then I guess my job is done here." I get up and start to walk out of the room.

"Emily Marie Clarkson." Justin hollers.

I close my eyes, fighting back the tears. "Justin I have to go."

"Emily, this isn't what you think it was."

"It doesn't matter." In my I don't give a fuck tone. "I will have my assistant call you in the morning and get a statement."

            I nearly run out of that room. I was a professional and I couldn't help but letting get my emotions get the best of me. I was a fucking professional... get a grip.

            There I was again, eating my salad alone in my empty apartment. It never used to matter to me. I enjoyed my quiet time. I enjoyed my life the way it was, at least I had convinced myself that I was content with my life.