Forget Me (Hampton Harbor) (14 page)

I set it back on the shelf and turn to her. "Oh, you mean
last month?"

She just nods. "Are you still happy with the Hampton Harbor
hat you bought?"

Her eyes travel to my head, where the hat in question is obviously
not located.

I nod. "I love it, thanks."

The sales lady cocks her head and I back away from the shelf of snow
globes, shoving my hands into the pockets of my shorts. 

"I better get back to work," I tell her.

I don't know why I lie, but I don't even think twice about it
until I am out of the shop and a half a block away. Fishing into my past is
turning out to be pointless, considering I don't know how to ask the questions
that will get the answers I need. The shop workers that recognize me will
assume that I remember the last time I was there, unless I tell them otherwise.
And I have no plans to tell any of them what happened to me, or what I am
dealing with.

Before I know it, I'm standing in front of the Davey & Sons
Boating store. I get a glimpse of the marina as I walk by. The boats rock
precariously on top of the unruly waves. I think about entering the main store,
but instead take the ramp down to the boardwalk, hoping to catch a glimpse of
Will. It doesn't take long to find him. He is standing on Dock A, next to the
first yacht. He is dressed from head to toe in a yellow rain suit, but I can
tell it is Will just by the way he stands. He talks to another worker, pointing
toward something on the hull of the boat. I hold the umbrella tight as the wind
whips around me.
It’s
stronger here than on the
street.

Thunder rumbles in the distance, and lightening flashes out over
the sea. I'm mesmerized by the storm as a whole, watching as it turns the normally
peaceful water into a weapon. Another gust of wind comes by and pulls at my
umbrella, and it flips inside out with a jolt. I wrestle with it for a moment
before instinct tells me to turn it toward the wind. It pops back into place
but two of the flaps are ripped, and in the process I've gotten myself soaked.
I drop the umbrella into a nearby trashcan and then cross my arms over my black
tee shirt. It clings to my body uncomfortably.

I turn back to the docks and see Will walking toward me, his eyes
locked on mine. 

"What are you doing out here?" He says over the rain. He
has to speak louder than usual.

"I got out of work early and took a walk. I stopped when I
saw you." I continue to watch him, trying to gauge if we are okay or not.

"You should go home, Jane. It isn't safe down here." As
if to prove a point, the wind blows the yellow hood of his raincoat back. His
dark hair dances wildly in the wind.

The rain falls harder and creates a deafening roar.

"I'm not going to get hurt," I yell back to him.

He regards me for a moment. His expression is taut and his eyes
full of sadness. "You will, Jane. In fact, we both will.”

I realize then that he is no longer talking about the storm. He is
using my words from Friday night, confirming what I feared after he pulled away
from the house. He is afraid that I’m going to hurt him. He
knows
 that I’m going to hurt him.

My mouth pops open slightly and I tear my eyes from his, looking
back at the thrashing boats. They are mimicking my feelings right now and copying
how my heart is thrashing back and forth in my chest. How my stomach is bobbing
up and down. I turn back to Will and just nod, pulling my arm from his grasp. I
turn and hurry back up the ramp, seeing a bus pull up to the stop just as I
approach. I climb aboard and chose to stand and hold one of the poles, not
wanting to get any of the seats wet. I look out the window as the bus pulls
away and see the yellow of Will's raincoat. He is still standing where I left
him minutes ago.

It isn't until I’m showered and in bed that I finally feel the
emotional tide taking me over. I try to brush the tears away from my cheeks as
quickly as they appear, but soon I give in and allow them to drop onto my
pillow. I pull the covers up to my neck and burrow deeper in the bed, willing
sleep to come peacefully.

"Mommy, when are we going to visit Grandma and Papa
again?"

I look up at the same
woman from the hill, except she seems a little older this time. There are more
wrinkles around her eyes and there are splashes of gray on her hairline.

"We aren't,"
she says to me. Her tone is harsh.

I can feel the immense
sorrow welling up on my insides. Tears spill onto my cheek and I’m sobbing like
a child.

I am a child.

"Don't be so
dramatic, Melissa."

The tears don't stop
coming, even though I suddenly want them too. I know how much mommy hates it
when I cry.

"If you're going to
sit there and act like a baby, you can go to your room." 

The woman points to the
stairs and shoots me a threatening glare.

I hurry up the stairs,
holding up the pink dress-up gown I'm wearing, and throw myself onto my bed.

The storm rages on
for the remainder of the night, and knocks out power to the entire island.
Shelley calls the landline in the morning to tell me that the cafe is closed
until the power can be restored, and I feel relief at her news. I don't want to
have to go back into town right now, not after yesterday afternoon. Not after
my dream last night.

I remembered again, and this time it feels much more important
than before.

For starters, I saw a glimpse of my home. The wallpapered living
room, the old TV in the corner and the carpeted stairs that led up my bedroom.
My bedroom that was painted pink and purple and had animated ponies on the
comforter. I'm sure that by now, things have changed, and maybe we don't even
live there anymore, but these details are still important.

Most importantly, my mom called me Melissa. She called me by name.

My real name.

Maybe it was a made up part of my dream. Maybe I'm so tired of
being Jane, the unknown, that I willed my memory to give me something else.
Just at a moment where I finally want all of this to be over, my mind has at last
given me a clue.

I pull the big camping lanterns out of the hall closet, the ones
Marie showed me one of my first days here. I take them downstairs and place
them in multiple locations so that I’m able to fill the house with a decent
amount of light. I do some cleaning, able to see enough to dust and sanitize
surfaces in the kitchen, living room, and bathroom. It is busy work, and it
fills my mind for a while. I mainly try to focus on anything but Will.

Anything but Melissa.

I am finished cleaning by lunchtime, and I make a peanut butter
sandwich so that I don't have to open the refrigerator. The clouds outside seem
to thicken by mid-afternoon, and it looks more like evening outside than two
o'clock. I sit on the bench seat in the living room and look out over the rough
waters, wishing I had something else to keep me busy. 

My thoughts overcome me and soon I am slumped back against the
pillows, trying to dry the tears that seem unending. I feel a nagging "I
told you so" within me. I knew that dating Will would be risky, and that
our summer fling could end in heartbreak. We've been together for almost a
month but it feels longer. I feel like I’ve spent a whole summer with him, a
whole year. He makes me feel complete and unbroken, despite my fragile mind, but
right now I feel like I’m in more pieces than ever before. I grip a pillow to
my chest and let my eyelids droop, finding that the emotional exhaustion has
seeped into physical exhaustion.

"I don't care what you think!" I scream before slamming
my bedroom door. 

I stomp over to my
dresser and grab a brush off the top, running it through my hair roughly. I
look up and I’m gazing at myself in the mirror, except I'm younger. More sure
and confident, and a tad bit cocky. My dark hair is shorter and falls just
below my shoulders. I'm wearing too much make-up. Blue eye shadow, black eye
liner, bright pink blush, and a pinkish lip-gloss. I continue to brush the non-existent
knots in my hair before finally throwing my brush to the floor.

My hand reaches for a picture
shoved into the edges of the mirror. I'm in the image and I have my arms
wrapped around a handsome boy. He has his arm around my shoulder and his head leans
against mine. He wears a baseball hat but I can see blonde hair creeping out
around his ears. There is a lake behind us, and we are both suntanned and
happy.

"I don't care what
my mom says," I tell the picture. "She can't break us apart."

Lightening strikes
and I sit up quickly, almost falling off of the window seat. It’s pitch black
outside but thankfully the battery-powered lanterns are still burning bright. I
stretch my neck back and forth, trying to ward off the stiffness from sleeping
at an odd angle. I run my hands over my eyes and keep them closed, thinking of
my newest memory. I go over every detail.

The room is the same one from my last memory, except now it had
been painted a deep red and my bedspread was black and white. I am a teenager
in my memory, maybe sixteen or seventeen. I know that the boy in the picture was
important to me at the time, but I can't think of his name. I remember his hat
easily, the purple baseball hat with a picture of a tiger across the top. How
many schools in the country boast a tiger as their mascot? Probably too many to
narrow down any answers.

More snippets come back to me, things that I just suddenly know.

I remember my mom being upset that I met this boy at summer camp,
and that we were dating. I remember her forbidding me to go on a date with him,
or to be with him. I don't know how, but I just
remember.

Maybe if I focus more on the memories I do have, the blanks around
them will fill in with details. I turn back to the window when the phone rings
in the kitchen. I hurry to answer it in case Charles and Marie are calling to
check in. 

"Hello?" I answer.

"Jane." Will breathes my name into the phone and all the
hurt from earlier washes right back into my body. "Are you okay?"

No
. "Yes, why?" I ask.

"I just want to make sure you have everything you need with
the storm, and the power being out. My mom said you’re welcome to come over to
the house and wait it out. They have the back up generators running and I can
pick you up..."

"Will," I say his name firmly, bringing his babbling to
a halt. "No. I don't want to come over there. I don't want to pretend
everything is fine when it isn't. We can't be together, I understand that."

"What are you talking about? Jane?" Will sounds worried
now. 

"You said you were afraid, and I get it. I do. I just don't
want to make this any harder than it already is."

I hear a frustrated groan on the other end. "Jane, I'm coming
over. I'll be there soon."

"You don't need to come out in this st
..
."
but the line is already dead.

I'm still wearing my pajama shorts and a tank top. I know that my
high ponytail is probably a mess from my nap, but I can't bring myself to move.
I stand by the phone, peering out the front window until, finally, headlights
appear on the driveway. Will's SUV comes to a quick stop and he hops out of the
driver side and sprints to the porch. I hurry to open the door for him so that
he doesn’t have to knock. He uses one hand to wipe the fresh rain from his hair
and pauses in the foyer, looking me over.

"You know, Charles and Marie asked me not to have boys over
while they’re gone," I tell him. I can't help but tease him, even in a
moment like this.

He smirks. "I'm sure even they broke the rules once or twice
when they were our age."

I shrug. "I'm pretty sure she was married at this
point." 

I shut the door behind Will and wrap my arms protectively around
my chest, thinking that maybe I can shield my heart from anymore hurt.

"We need to talk," he tells me and I nod.

"Then talk." I don't move to sit down, but rather remain
standing in the foyer. I want him to know that after he says what he has to
say, he needs to leave. 

His eyes dart around the room, looking everywhere but me. He
starts to speak several times but stops, running his hands through his hair in
frustration.