Forget Me (Hampton Harbor) (4 page)

Home
.

It’s what Marie has asked me to call their house while I live
there. I’m giving the word a try, but it feels
fake
when it settles into my thoughts and falls off of my lips. Maybe because I feel
like a fake, pretending to be a girl named Jane when I really know nothing
about myself. I know that time is running short on telling them the truth,
because it won’t be long before the truth finds a way to make
itself
known.

When I wake up on
Wednesday morning, Charles is already gone and Marie is waiting for me in the
kitchen. She has her purse on her lap and car keys in her hand. I freeze on the
bottom step, thinking that maybe they've discovered my secret. Marie is going
to tell me to gather my things and get out, or she is going to drive me to the
police station. Is lying about losing your memory a crime?

"Charles and I are giving you the day off," Marie says and
I can suddenly move again. "I'm taking you shopping in Bangor."

Shopping
. Another word my mind recognizes. It stores the word, giving me
images of the idea of shopping. Of course, I get no flashes of a time I've been
shopping myself.

"Oh," I say uncomfortably. "You don’t..."

Marie holds up her hand and I stop talking. "I know I don't
have to do anything, but I want to," she says. 

She is smiling at me. Her eyes crinkle, wrinkles form around her
mouth, and I know that I never had a chance. 

"Let me change," I say. I’m dressed in the same shorts
from last night, but a new white shirt. Marie put several of them in my closet
after my first day at the cafe.

I run up to my room and put on clean shorts. Shorts that do not
smell like the lobster special. I throw on a lightweight, black shirt that I found
in my bag and grab cash from underneath the mattress. Amy split tips with me
the past two days, and even though it isn't much, I feel like I should bring some
of my own money with me. I had been planning on giving it all back to Charles
and Marie, something I'll need to talk to them about soon.

"Bangor is about an hour from here," Marie says as she
pulls out of the drive and onto the main road. "But it’s the closest
shopping we have."

We drive in the opposite direction of town, following a winding
road through the heavy cover of trees. The road curves through a National Park,
so every mile or so there is a brown sign with yellow lettering, signaling to
tourists that a new stop is coming up.

Bike trails. Canoeing. Hiking. Pavilions. 

Every now and then I get a peek at the water through the tress. The
sun is out and by the humidity in the air just this morning, I can tell that it
is going to be a warm day.

We go over a large bridge, leaving the island and entering what
Marie refers to as
the mainland.

Once we are over the bridge Marie resumes conversation.

"The few items of clothing you brought are not going to last
you long," Marie says to me. "We need to get you some proper outfits
for summer, and start looking ahead to fall. The boutiques in Hampton Harbor
carry pricey items, so it’s best to do it all at the mall in Bangor."

Uncomfortable words bite at my tongue. My throat feels thick and
for a moment I panic at the thought that it might be closing. Marie talks about
my time here as though it’s indefinite. Will I really still be here in the
fall?

"Charles and I had a daughter," Marie says suddenly. I
immediately notice that she uses the past tense.

“We had trouble getting pregnant," she continues. I’m glad
that she is using words in a time when I can't seem to. "We tried for
three years, they didn’t have the same medical advancements that young couples
can take advantage of now. We had about given up. I had a routine blood test at
a doctor’s visit and he called the next day to tell me the good news. Nine
months later our daughter was born. We named her Grace. I had to have a
hysterectomy from the high-risk labor, so we knew that she was our one and only."

Suddenly I know that this conversation is going to a place I'm not
sure I want to visit.

"Grace left Hampton Harbor as soon as she turned eighteen.
She was such an angry girl. She fought so hard against us, and wanted so bad to
be as far from us as possible." Marie's voice cracks. "She lives in
the Midwest now, and hasn't been home in over twenty years. It's one of the
reasons we have lanterns going down the dock in front of the cafe. It sounds cheesy,
but I like to think that they light the way home. To let her know that if she
ever does want to come back, we are here waiting for her."

"Why are you telling me this?" I ask. I notice that my
voice sounds unsteady.

"Because I need you to understand exactly
why
 I need to do this," Marie
looks at me quickly. "I never had these opportunities with Grace. She
wanted nothing to do with me in her teenage years, and hasn't given me a chance
to repair whatever she thinks is broken in our relationship."

My stomach twists around, and I feel sick.

"I can't be a replacement," I say.

Marie looks horrified. "No! Oh dear, that is not what I’m
saying, not at all, Jane. I don't want to replace my daughter. When Charles
brought you home, something happened to me. I knew we needed to help you, in
whatever way we can."

I just nod, trying to find words to speak but they evade me. 

Marie turns up the
radio for the remainder of the drive, and I stare out the window. I try to find
anything to distract myself from her story. I listen to the songs on the radio
in depth, trying to find recognition. The music sounds familiar at times, but
at other times I can't place words or the beat. Maybe I didn't listen to music
much before the accident.

           
We
arrive in Bangor thirty-minutes later.

Marie pulls into a shopping mall and finds a parking spot outside
of a department store. She turns off the car and angles her body toward me.

"Charles told me not to tell you all of this so soon,"
she says. "I think he may have been right. I'm afraid I've gone and messed
up our relationship."

I take a deep breath and shake my head. "Not at all, it was
just a lot to take in at once."

I want to tell her how the news is hard to take because of my memory
loss. I don't have any memories of my own, so her memory of Grace fills every
inch of my mind and becomes a painful reminder of her loss. We leave the car
and walk into the department store, which appears to be a fair size. We find a
section with plain colored tees and I stock up for working at the cafe. I find
some cheaper pairs of shorts that I won't mind getting dirty when at work.
Marie even convinces me to try on some nicer tops
.

"Just in case," she tells me.

It takes us almost an hour to make it out of the department store
and into the mall, and it is another hour and a half before we call it quits.
Marie drags me into Gap, Ann Taylor, and another department store, and spends
too much money on too many clothes. I have three bags on each arm, and I am
starting to feel the weight in my shoulders.

"Let's grab some lunch," Marie says, leading me toward
the food court.

We end up in a chain restaurant that is attached the mall, and I
find it strange to be served a meal today instead of being the server. I pick
up the menu and the previous night comes back to me.

"Oh my gosh, I completely forgot about Will," I say out
loud.

Marie peers at me over her own menu. "Will?"

"I met him outside the cafe last night," I answer.
"I told him to sit in my section today for lunch, and now I'm not
there."

"Oh, well, he comes in often so I'm sure you’ll get another
chance to serve him." Marie looks back down at her menu, a small smile on
her face.

I just nod, but feel a tinge of disappointment at missing an
opportunity to see him. We order our food and talk about our purchases while we
wait. Marie bought quite a few items for herself, and I thank her profusely for
spending the money on me. I decide not to argue about the amount after the
whole talk about her daughter. I can think of a few ways to pay her and Charles
back, but I'm going to wait until I have a chance to talk with them both.

"I sat in your
section yesterday," Will says from behind me.

I'm standing at the counter, tying my apron around my waist and
searching for a pen. My shift is just starting, and already the tables in our
section are filling up. This will be my last day training with Amy, and then I
am on my own.

"I know," I say apologetically. "Marie swept me out
the door for a shopping trip. I'm not so sure I had a choice."

Will laughs, and the sound wakes the butterflies in my stomach.
"Do you think I should give it another try today?"

I shrug. "That's up to you, are you feeling boring or
spontaneous?" 

Will smiles. "Challenge accepted."

He walks away from the counter and slips into a booth in Amy's
section. I laugh and shake my head, turning to grab an order pad from under the
counter. Amy returns from the kitchen and sidles up next to me.

"What is he doing over there?" She asks as she ties her
apron tighter. "Will never sits in my section."

"I challenged him to try something new," I say over my
shoulder.

"Well, he orders the same thing every day so we might as well
just put it in to the cook." She starts writing on her pad and I stop her.

"Maybe he'll order something different today," I
say. 

"I'll start on my other tables. You get spontaneous
boy." She steps around the counter and heads to greet guests. 

I walk over to Will's table, very aware that he is watching my
every step. 

"Hi, I'm Jane and I'll be taking care of you today. Can I
start you off with something to drink?" I hold my pad in the air, my pen ready.

Will's eyes twinkle with amusement. "Water is fine. And I'm
ready to order."

"Just so you know, I'm going to be checking this order with
Heather," I say in almost a whisper. "If it’s the same thing you
order every time you come in, I'm deducting a point from your spontaneity
score."

Will smothers a laugh and picks up his menu. "In that case,
I'll have a bowl of chili and half of a grilled cheese sandwich." 

I nod my head and write it down. "I'll be right back with
your water."

I head back behind the counter and submit his order. Heather is
filling drinks
behind me so I turn and whisper, "What is
Will's usual order?"

She peeks over at me. "A cup of chili and a whole grilled
cheese sandwich."

"Of course," I say.

I pour him a glass of water and head back to his table, setting it
down in front of him.

"Well played," I say with one eyebrow raised. 

He leans back in his seat, his hands clasped together behind his
neck. I try not to notice that his muscles are more defined this way, but I
fail.

"You just said that I needed to change my order, so I
did." He smiles and the butterflies take flight again.

"I'm still deducting half a point," I say before turning
and walking away. I greet and take orders for a few other tables that have been
seated. Amy and I are splitting the tables today, each taking an equal
amount. 

I've just gotten two of my tables’ orders in when Will's grilled
cheese is done. I dish his chili into a bowl, shove some crackers onto the
saucer, and pile the entire order onto a tray.

"He likes lots of crackers," Heather says, grabbing
another handful and dumping them on the tray.

I know she is trying to be helpful, but I feel a touch of jealousy
at the fact that she knows him so well, and I hardly know him at all.

I deliver his meal and tuck the tray under my arm. "Enjoy
your meal!"

I hurry away before he can say anything. Each time I look into his
eyes, I get more and more unsettled. Amy refills his water for me while I carry
food to a large table. I run into the kitchen to get more sour cream and when I
come back out, Will is gone. I wander over to his table and find a
twenty dollar
bill and a business card. I check my order
pad. His meal would have cost him eight dollars. That is a one hundred percent
tip and then some. I shove the twenty into my pocket and look at the business
card.