Forget Me (Hampton Harbor) (21 page)

BOOK: Forget Me (Hampton Harbor)
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"But you wouldn't," he fills in. 

I continue, "So she said we needed to get married.
Meanwhile I took classes, albeit huge and pregnant by spring semester. I had
him over spring break and only took two weeks off before returning to class."

"We had a long engagement, and married the next summer, just
before our senior year of college,” Jason adds.

"We lived in a tiny, off campus apartment while we finished
school." I say softly.

I grip the edge of the table and close my eyes. I feel Jason’s
light touch on my arm.

"Maybe we should move slower," he says and I'm nodding
my head in agreement.

Thankfully our waitress comes wobbling toward us, carrying a tray.
She sets a plate of fried eggs, pancakes, and bacon in front of Jason. She
grabs another plate and sets it in front of me, and my heart sinks. I stare at
the meal in front of
me,
trying to think of anything I
can say. I grasp for some sort of normal reaction.

Jason laughs and I look up at him. "I think this is the only
time I've ever seen you stare at your
breakfast
 with
the same concern I did when we first met."

I lick my dry lips.

Jason takes a sip of orange juice. "You always said you could
eat it..."

"Morning, noon, and night." I finish for him.

I'm not staring at my plate because of the memories it brings back
of Melissa, or the oddness of the meal in front of me.

I'm staring at it because it reminds me of Jane. It reminds me of
a small boating town in Maine with a kind old couple, a bayside cafe, and a
handsome, dark haired guy that works at the marina.

I pick up my fork and, with effort, dig into the plate of cheese
ravioli.

 

CHAPTER
TWENTY-FIVE

 

After our brunch,
Jason drives me past our street and down to the elementary school. He pulls
into the almost empty lot and parks in front of the playground. Three moms sit
on a bench beside the bright blue equipment, two of them pushing strollers back
and forth slowly. Several kids are chasing each other around the playground,
all pre-school age. 

"So this is where I work?" I ask, even though I know the
answer. The details past college are fuzzy, but I recognize the building to my
left. Light orange brick and wide, rectangular windows. I can see odd shaped,
colorful trees in one window and a Dr. Seuss book pops into my head.

"You were hired straight out of college. You are good at what
you do, so good," Jason says with emotion. "You've been here two
years now."

"I was a waitress," I say suddenly.

Jason peers over at me, confusion covering his face. "Not
that I've ever known..."

He doesn't realize that I’m suddenly speaking about my time in
Hampton Harbor, not my lost memories. I'm talking about my new ones, the ones
that are the newest.

"In Hampton Harbor," I add to make things more clear.
"I was a waitress, in my grandparents cafe. It’s right on the water, with
wind chimes and seagulls and all. We should go there sometime. To visit Charles
and Marie, you know?"

Jason seems uncomfortable. I can't read him well enough to
understand why.

"I always went home smelling like the fish of the day, and
with a layer of salt on my skin." I'm not sure why I'm speaking these
things now. I don't know if it’s out of selfishness, or if I want Jason to know
where I've been.

"Did I ever talk about my grandparents?" I ask him when
he doesn't respond.

Jason is looking past the windshield now, watching the kids play.

"Not really," he finally says. "You told me how
much your mom hated her parents, and how you weren't allowed to visit them
anymore. You said the same things then, you know. You said when you were little
you loved the wind chimes and the seagulls."

"Is that why I went back there?" I ask without thinking.

I can see Jason's jaw working, and a vein on his neck makes an
appearance. I know that he holds the answers to why I ended up in Maine, but I
also sense that he isn't ready to share them just yet, and maybe I'm not ready
to hear them. I decide to change the topic.

"Show me where you work," I say.

I watch him visibly relax as he starts the car and backs out of
the parking spot. The high school is just three blocks down the street. It is
built of the same light orange brick as the elementary school, but the windows
are smaller and more confined, the outside not as welcoming. I doubt there
are any colorful, pom
like trees in these windows. Jason
lets us into the athletic wing of the building and shows me the field house,
the locker room, and finally his office. There isn't a soul in sight, and I'm
glad that I don't have to meet anyone that I
should
 know. 

His office is small, with a window that looks out into the field
house. His desk is an organized mess, with stacks of papers neatly placed in a
puzzle like formation on the top. His college diploma hangs on the wall, with a
nice frame around it. There are a few sports awards on his desk, and some
pictures with small groups of guys. Teammates from college, perhaps. I step to
his desk and focus on a black frame that holds two vertical pictures.  The
picture on the left is of us, and I gather it’s from college. He’s wearing his
team uniform, which is covered in red dirt from a game.  My arms are
around his neck and I'm hanging off his back. My cheek is placed close to his
for the picture. The second is more recent. He is wearing a purple TIGERS
uniform, but it is clean since he is coaching and not playing. I'm wearing a
TIGERS shirt and though my arm is wrapped around his waist, I'm not standing as
close and my smile isn't as big as it is in the first picture. 

The glass is missing from both pictures, and the frame is cracked.

"It fell off my desk," Jason says quickly, as though he
reads my thoughts. "Come on, I'll give you a tour of the town."

 

We don't get back
to the house until mid-afternoon. My brain feels full from all of the
information I received today. I know that this is all just recall, and that
I've known these things for most of my life, but the quick return of the
information has been startling.

Not for the first time I wonder…

If I had just let Charles
and Marie find my family from the start...

The thought stops me cold in the entryway. Jason bangs into me from
behind.

They
knew
my family. It all would have been
over in an instant. I never would have met Will. I never would have fallen in
love with Hampton Harbor. I would have had my memories back sooner. I wouldn't
spend countless minutes wondering about the
what
if
s.

"Mel?" Jason says behind me.

"I need a minute," I croak and take off up the stairs,
running straight through the bedroom and into the bathroom. I sit on the toilet
and put my head in my hands, taking deep breaths. When the room stops spinning
I stand and look in the mirror, taking in my dark hair and red-rimmed eyes.
Jane and Melissa in one. 

I know what I need to do. I need to make every effort to be in the
now
. To be in
this
 life, the one I chose when I married Jason. I need to
remind myself of why I’m with him, and I need to remember it all. It is going
to be hard, but it will be necessary. 

I leave the bathroom and make my way back downstairs. Jason is in
the kitchen, pouring himself a glass of water. He looks at me with a reserved
look, as though I might break apart at any moment and it could easily be his
fault.

"Cancel the dinner with my mom tonight," I tell him.

His mouth opens slightly. "What?"

"I need you to cancel tomorrow’s dinner with my mom," I
say again.

"Mel, I'm not so sure..." he starts.

I bring my hands up to the sides of my head. "Please, Jason.
Please
."

"Okay," he says quickly. He sets his water on the
counter. "What should I tell her?"

I think for a moment, wondering what Melissa would say. I only
have access to my thoughts and memories from college, nothing from the two
years before the accident. 

"Tell her that I'll come over for dinner on my own time. When
I'm
ready."

It’s the only way I can think of to say
No,
you are no longer in control of me.
I’m not ready to hear her talk
about my issues and tell me that she is going to hire doctors to
fix
me.

"She isn't going to like this," Jason says as he pulls
his cell phone from his pocket. I can see a small smile pulling up at the
corner of his lips though.

"Exactly," I say. "And after that, can you call
Beth and ask her to come over."

Beth arrives fifteen minutes later. She is a blur of blonde hair
and bubble gum pink lips as she rushes through the door and wraps me in a hug.

"Jason told me all about what happened to you. He called me
after your mom left to pick you up in Maine." As Beth's voice drawls out, I
recall that she moved here from Georgia and still boasts a southern accent.

"I remember you," I say quickly. "Well, at least
pieces of you."

"Hopefully it's the good pieces," she jokes. "What
do you need?"

I love this question. She isn't spending time asking me what I
know and don't know, and she isn't skirting around me like I'm fragile.

"I want to cut my hair," I say simply.

Beth grins but Jason steps forward, a frown on his face. "You
love your long hair, Mel. Maybe you shouldn't make such a rash
decision..."

"She knows what she wants," Beth snaps at him with
amazing sass. 

His eyebrows furrow as he glares at her, and she winks at me
before grabbing my arm and pulling me toward the front door.

Beth takes me to a salon in town. The salon is modern and colorful
on the inside. She demands that someone named Hannah makes room for me, and
within ten minutes my hair is shampooed and I'm in a chair with a smock on.

"What are we doing, hun?" Hannah asks.

She is a tall, spindly girl, with short hair that is dyed platinum
blonde and buzzed on one side of her head. She has tattoos running up her arms,
and I see one poking out of the collar of her shirt.

I peek in the mirror at my long hair, which is wavy and settles around
my chest.

"Shoulder length," I say.

"That would probably be enough to donate," Hannah says
as she measures with her comb.

She pulls my hair into a ponytail and cuts off the length in one
snip, setting it aside. Her scissors move around my head expertly, snipping at
random pieces of hair. It all makes no sense to me but Beth is practically
giddy and I’m starting to feel the same way. I only remember the Beth from the
memories I have. I don't know what she does currently, or what we enjoy doing
together. I remember how we both smoked our first cigarette together under the
football bleachers. I remember how we teepee'd her boyfriend's house our junior
year. I remember how we drank from her mom's liquor cabinet and passed out in
the empty jacuzzi tub. It was all so long ago, but it feels fresher than that.
Most of all, I remember that I can trust her, which is why I am with her right
now.

The cut and dry takes thirty-minutes, and I walk out of the salon
with not only a new hairstyle but also a new outlook. Melissa and Jane were
blending together with the old look, with the same hair and same sad eyes. I've
already changed one; it is time to work on changing the other.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

 

It's been four days
since I came
home
 from Hampton
Harbor.

Four days of a new routine.

Sleep on the couch, take walks around town, meet people I knew--
know
--, eat lunch with Jason, read
books, try not to think about Will, focus on relearning cooking dinner, watch
mindless TV, and go to sleep again.

I've seen Beth a few times; for coffee, ice cream, and a shopping
trip to the mall.

Jason is back at work and very busy with his baseball camp. Or so
he says.

I know that my mom has been calling Jason non-stop. He got me a
new phone to replace the one that fell into the ocean, and if she knew phone
was active again, I'm sure she would be calling me as well. Jason has given her
one more day before he thinks she'll come knocking down the door.

The best part of my four days in Clinton Hills was having the
chance to call Marie. I called her on Monday, when I knew she would be home in
the morning.
 
I close my eyes and
think about our conversation.

 

“Are you happy there,
Melissa?” she asked me.

“I’m not sure,” I told
her honestly.

           
The
line was silent for several uncomfortable minutes.

BOOK: Forget Me (Hampton Harbor)
6.37Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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