Forget Me (Hampton Harbor) (20 page)

Silence settles between us.

"I can't go up there yet. I don't think I can handle more
memories," I say in partial truth.

Picking up the picture frame from our wedding didn't bring back
memories of the day, but I can't convince myself that stepping into our bedroom
won't. I don't want to remember anymore tonight. I don't want to break my
heart, or his, anymore tonight. I'm stepping into a life that I should
understand, but can't. I don't want to picture myself getting ready in that
room, sleeping in a bed with Jason.

I close my eyes and picture myself in Charles and Marie's house,
getting ready for a shift at the cafe. I picture myself taking the bus into
town and standing on the boardwalk, looking out over the bay. I picture myself
in Will's arms, the night we spent in my bed.

My eyes pop open and Jason is no longer standing in front of me.

I'm not sure where he went but my black duffle bag is sitting in
the foyer and I walk over to grab it. There is a small bathroom off of the
kitchen, and I use it to change into my pajamas and wash up. I try to avoid looking
in the mirror but it is a futile effort. I decide to meet my reflection head on
and I brace my hands on either side of the pedestal sink. Long, dark hair,
plain blue eyes, a small nose and big lips. I feel as though I'm split in half,
rather than looking at a single reflected image. On one side I’m Jane, and on
the other I’m Melissa. 

Each life is melding together with the crash and tilt of the waves
during a heavy storm, and all the rage of the winds as they push and pull at
the sails of the boats. 

The storm will pass, either leaving bits of debris for its memory,
or a wake of destruction in its path.

My dreams are so
filled with memories, that when I wake up, I feel more exhausted than when I
went to bed. I can recall much of my childhood now, and I’m sure that the
memories of my baby and toddler years are there, but I wouldn't remember them
even if my mind was fully functioning. I remember a time when my parents were
together, and my brother Robbie and I would hide in his closet, waiting for the
fighting to stop. We lived in a different house then, an old farmhouse further
into the country.

I remember my mom berating me over and over as I grew up. I
remember how Robbie worked hard to fit into her perfect mold, and I always
resented him for being better than me. I rebelled against everything my mom
wanted me to be, and I feel as though I probably still do. I remember going into
high school, and finding a rambunctious group of friends. I remember Jason
asking me to the freshman winter formal, and we were officially boyfriend and
girlfriend from that point on, even if we had flirted all fall. I remember
making Varsity Soccer my freshman year, and it is one of the few times I
remember making my mom proud. She hated my friends and my boyfriend. I reminded
her of my dad, and she held that against me as well. The rest of high school
came in bits and pieces; bonfires in a cornfield, wild drives down the dark,
country roads, formals and proms, soccer games and working at the ice cream
place in town. I remember a stretch during my junior year where Jason broke up
with me and a week later started dating another girl. I can still feel the
heartbreak I felt, and how desperate I was to get him back.

I spent weeks in Hampton Harbor, struggling to recall anything.
I’m in Clinton Hills for twelve hours and suddenly my memories are slipping
back into my mind one after another. It seems unfair, that this place has to be
so familiar to me that it has this effect.

"Good morning." Jason's voice pulls me out of my daze.
I'm sitting crossed legged on the couch with a blanket thrown across my lap.

Jason is dressed for the day, in jeans and a simple tee shirt. I
try not to notice how his muscles bulge under the material, or how a familiar
tattoo weaves out of the right sleeve.

"I called in to work today," he says as he plops down in
the recliner across from me.

"You didn't have to do that," I tell him. I look down at
my hands and weave my fingers through the stitching in the blanket.

"I think I did," he responds.

I know that he is struggling just has much as I am, if not more in
some aspects.

"Where do you work?" I try to make light conversation.
 The air between us feels thick and stubborn.

"At the high school. I'm the PE teacher, and the baseball
coach."

"Isn't school out for the summer?" I ask. It’s almost
mid-July.

He nods. "I usually work through the summer, running baseball
camps for the community."

I know this, somehow, and just nod. "Where do I work?"

"Clinton Hills Elementary School, just down the street. You
teach Kindergarten."

He says everything in the present tense.

My mouth forms an O and I just nod. A Kindergarten teacher feels
like a far cry from a waitress.

"So I'm off for the summer?"

He nods. "You were done June sixth."

He says the date with meaning, as if I should understand the
importance of it. Looking back in my mind, I think that it could have been the
day I left Indiana and started my trip to Maine.

"The more you talk about us, the more I remember," I
tell him. "Maybe we should spend the day talking."

Jason seems relieved at the suggestion and I wonder what he was
expecting.

"I know just the place." He stands and helps me off the
couch. "We'll leave as soon as you’re ready."

He disappears into the kitchen and I pick up my black duffle. I
know that I need a shower, and I also know that this means I need to go
upstairs. I take a deep breath and make the journey up to the second floor slowly,
feeling certain steps creak under my weight. The upstairs is small, and there
are only three doors to choose from. My mind tells me that the door on the
right leads to a guest room that I turned into an office, the middle door leads
to a bathroom, and the left door leads to the master bedroom. I turn the knob
slowly and push the heavy door open. 

I can feel the Melissa part of me coming to life as I enter the
room. The walls are painted a slate blue, and the room is filled with
beautiful, espresso furniture. The bed is high off the ground, and covered in a
cream colored comforter.  The space is neat and organized, something I
know I appreciate and can appreciate Jason keeping up with. The room makes me
feel better than I have since boarding the plane, and I lean against the wall
for a few moments before stepping into the bathroom. I shower quickly and dry
my hair with a hair dryer I find under the sink. Signs of Melissa are
everywhere. Hair products, bobby pins, floral lotions, and even a hot curler set.
All things I left behind when I went to Maine. 

I go to reach for my black duffle but I stop. This is my room.
It’s full of my belongings. I wrap the towel around me tightly and step toward
the dresser, pulling the top right drawer open. I find underwear and a bra, and
move on to the closet, finding a pair of khaki sorts and a ruffled tank top.
The tank top is white, and the tan I've earned while in Maine appears darker
against the color. I dig a pair of flip-flops out of a bin on the floor and
hurry downstairs. 

Jason is leaning against the kitchen counter, a phone pressed to
his ear. He holds up one finger and smiles.

"Yeah, I'll have to ask her. I'll have her call you..."
he looks at me. "Or maybe I'll call you later."

He hangs up his phone and puts it in his pocket. "That was
Beth."

He waits to see if I recall the name, an action I can appreciate.
It is nice to be given the chance to remember, whereas my mom wants to ship me
off to a facility and have my memories pulled out of me.

"Beth," I repeat the name. "My best friend?" I
say as a question.

Jason nods. "The troublesome twosome."

My high school memories build on themselves, and now there is a
tall girl with bright blonde hair and a sassy attitude. I met her my freshman
year, the year she moved into town. We’ve been best friends ever since.

"She's been worried about you," Jason says. A smirk
fills his face before he speaks again. "She says that you need to get your
ass over to her place and explain where you've been."

I can't help but smile too, knowing that is just what I would
expect her to say.

"Are you ready to go?" Jason says as he grabs his keys
from a bowl on the counter.

I pat my sides, feeling empty-handed. "I dropped my purse in
the ocean during my accident. I don't have a phone, or wallet, or any of
that." 

It feels weird to explain that to him. In Hampton Harbor it didn't
seem to matter. I was able to get where I needed to go with the bus, and pay
for the small amount of items I needed with my tip money. A cell phone hadn’t
even felt necessary. Otherwise Charles and Marie took care of me.

"Well it’s a good thing we're married." He holds up his
wallet. "And that anyone who would call you, you wouldn't know
anyway."

The joke hits in the right place and I laugh. The sound puts a
wide grin on Jason's face and he steps to my side, offering me his arm.

"Right this way."

We drive a block or
two and park on a side street. We could have walked the distance since we live
right in town. As we move down the sidewalk, I'm finding that I recognize the
shops and can even picture their owners. We reach the restaurant and I look at
the sign over the door.

Clinton Hills Corner
Diner.

Jason holds the door open for me and I step into the well
air-conditioned entryway. A sign asks us to seat ourselves. Jason takes my hand
casually and walks to the left side of the diner. Several heads turn as we pass
and I hear whispers of my name as we go. We stop at a booth in the back corner
and I choose to sit in the side with the cracked vinyl.

"Do we come here often?" I ask.

"We did," he says softly. I notice that his fingers are
rubbing over something carved into the table. I take a closer look.

"J and M, Forever," I read the fading letters and look
up. Jason's green eyes meet mine. "Jason and Melissa."

He looks down at the lettering. “You carved that into the table
before senior prom.”

A round, busty waitress comes up to our table.

"Been awhile, you two. The usual?" she says.

Jason looks at me and I just shrug. "Sure."

When the waitress leaves I lean over the table. "What’s my
usual?"

Jason sits back. "Maybe I should let you be surprised."

"Fair enough," I say.

Our waitress returns with two large glasses. Orange juice for
Jason and a diet soda for me.

I drink soda this early?

"I'm just going to throw this question out there, because I
can't stop thinking about it." I pick up a packet of sugar and fiddle with
it nervously. "I got pregnant, right?"

Jason's expression doesn't change as he nods his head. He watches
me carefully.

"I remember the night I found out, and how you wanted me to
get rid of the baby."

He flinches at my words and finally breaks eye contact, looking
down at the table.

"What happened after that?" I ask.

I think of the memory now, of me on his bed while he stroked my
hair and told me that everything would be okay. Was it? Is it?

"We gave him up for adoption," he finally says. He takes
out his wallet and opens it, pulling a business card size picture from one of
the sleeves. "He's five now. He lives with a nice couple in the suburbs of
Chicago, and they've adopted another baby since then."

He sets the picture on the table and slides it toward me.

The little boy in the picture has Jason's blond hairs and square
jaw, but the rest is all me. Dark blue eyes, a small nose, big lips, and a
heart-shaped face.

The picture blurs as tears fill my eyes. I push it back toward
Jason.

"Ethan." I say his name for the first time since my
accident. 

"Ethan," Jason murmurs. "Your mom wanted you to
have an abortion. You called me one morning in tears, saying that she had
tricked you into a drive and that she was dragging you into the clinic. They
couldn't have forced an abortion on you anyway, but I remember driving there
and sprinting into the building. A security guard had to subdue Grace while I
carried you from the building."

"I was screaming every profanity I could think of," I
finish for him.

He nods and I can see the pain in his eyes. "You stayed at my
house for the rest of the summer and then went right back to the dorms at
school."

I can see it all now, as though I am watching an old movie play
back in my head.

"Grace told me if I wanted her to pay for my education, I had
to start talking to her again. She decided she could spin the adoption in her
favor." I take a long sip of diet soda from my straw. "She told me
that I had to break up with you."