Remember Me Always: A Contemporary Romance

by Angela Snyder

  I put my hands on my hips and stare him down. "It's only been five years, Colton. Are you saying you don't remember me?"

  He opens his mouth to speak, but then closes it. A darkness forms in his eyes as he concentrates on me. "Five years," he repeats softly. "Did we go to school together or something?" he asks.

  I stare at him in disbelief. Is he really going to play these games with me and pretend he doesn't know who I am? If anyone has a right to be pissed off in this situation, it's me. He's the one who broke my heart. Not the other way around. And I'm going to tell him exactly how it is. How dare he play this off as if I'm nothing to him. After all that we shared together, there's no way I would treat him like that. He has no right to make me feel insignificant. And if he thinks I'm going to allow him once again to smash my barely mended broken heart from the first time he broke it, he's sadly mistaken. I won't let him. No, this time I'm going to be the one to stand up to him and tell him how I really feel. "You're…You're an asshole!" I yell, not caring who hears it.

  His whole body trembles with anger as he slowly stands up and menacingly towers over me. Now that he's standing, I can really see how much muscle mass he has put on since the last time I saw him. His broad shoulders and burly arms are tense as he stares me down. He leans down to my eye level before he asks, "Did I fuck and dump you back in high school, and now you want some kind of payback? Is that it, sweetheart?"

  If I didn't know him, I would be afraid. But I know Colton would never hurt me. We've had our fair share of fights in the past, but he never hurt me, not even once. Our relationship was sometimes like a tornado, ripping up everything and everyone around us by the roots and not giving a shit in the world about what or whom we destroyed. But the peace and calm always returned after we were done. And then we did our best to fix what we had almost ruined in the moment. There was never a dull moment when it came to the two of us. And I wouldn't have ever changed a thing.

  "No," I answer, while wrapping my arms protectively around myself. His words cut through me like a knife. As far as I know, I was the only one Colton ever slept with and vice versa. Was he cheating on me the entire time? Was I that blind?

  He scoffs and runs a hand through his dark hair, which is longer than I remember. "Then maybe you have the wrong guy. Are you sure you weren't whorin' around with someone else in this bar?" he asks, straight-faced.

  I try my best to keep my voice steady as I square my shoulders and take a step towards him. "You. Are. An. Asshole," I say, enunciating each word clearly.

  "Yeah, well, you're a bitch," he snaps.

  I'm taken aback by his words. Colton never swore, and he most certainly never called me or any woman, for that matter, a bitch. He was a mama's boy by heart, and he respected all women. That's the way he was raised and brought up. I stand there shocked at his sudden personality change. "What has gotten into you? It's like you're a different person!"

  "Maybe you never knew me very well."

  "I guess I didn't know you at all!" I turn to leave, but he roughly grabs me and twists me around to face him. My body crushes up against his hard chest, and my lungs intake a sharp breath in surprise. I think for a split second that maybe the game he is playing is over, but I still see the uncertainty and anger swirling in his gaze. He's not done playing games. He's just getting started. Well, I'm not going to let him win. "Let me go," I hiss at him.

  "Where ya goin'? We were just startin' to get to know each other." His eyes trail down to my cleavage peeking out of the low scoop neck of my shirt and back up to my face.

  "I'd rather forget I ever knew you at all, to be quite honest. And I certainly don't want to start getting to know this new you!"

  He entraps both my wrists in his hands and holds me tightly. A small sense of fear begins to seep its way into my bones. The Old Colton would never hurt me, but I don't know this New Colton. And that scares me. "Let go," I say, my voice wavering a bit.

  His face suddenly grows serious, a crease appearing in his brow. "No. Tell me who you are. Tell me how you know me."

  "Let me go!" I scream, trying to tug out of his tight grasp to no avail. I stare up at the boy I used to love, the boy I would do anything for, the boy I wanted to marry. But that boy sadly is gone, and standing before me now is a stranger, and I don't know why. Nothing makes sense right now, and it tears me up inside. What the hell happened in the time that I was gone? Tears suddenly fill my eyes, and I blink them away.

  A crowd of people has gathered around us, and the music suddenly cuts off. Colton's dark eyes dart around the bar and then focus on me again. He looks menacing, and I no longer wonder if he could hurt me. I know the answer is he can…and he will.

  "Let go of me, Colton James!" I cry, my voice barely above a whisper.

  His eyes narrow and a pained expression appears on his face before he finally releases his grip. I stumble backwards into a girl I recognize as Daisy Arnold, and she helps me to steady myself. All eyes are on me, but the only eyes I focus on are Colt's. He sits back down on the barstool, but doesn't turn away. His eyes dart around the room at everyone staring at him. He looks visibly upset, and I suddenly feel bad that I yelled. But he scared the hell out of me. Colton has never scared me like that in my entire life. I always felt safe with him. Always.

  Buddy Lawson rushes out from behind the bar and over to Colt. Buddy's been best friends with Colton and me since grade school, and I always thought of Buddy like a brother. He puts an arm around Colton's shoulders and says, "Let's calm down and get another beer, Colt. That's enough excitement for one night."

  "Are you okay, Penny?" Daisy asks.

  I nod even though I'm anything but okay.

  "Stay for a couple rounds," she offers. "I haven't seen you since high school graduation."

  "I'm sorry. I have to go," I whisper, my voice breaking. "I…I need to go." Turning, I run out of the bar, not stopping until I'm safely inside of my car. Tears flow freely down my cheeks as I slam the palms of my hands against the steering wheel over and over again. Curses fly from my mouth as I take my anger out on the inanimate object.

  I thought it would hurt me to see Colton. But the worst pain of all came from the fact that he acted like he didn't even know me. How could he pretend not to remember me?

  * * * * *

  COLTON

  I TAKE A swig of the lukewarm beer and set it down hard on the bar, the bottle threatenin' to burst from the force. My best friend Buddy is talkin' to me, but I'm blockin' him out. It's easy for me to withdraw into myself and block out the entire world. And I've been doin' it for so long now that it just comes second nature to me now.

  Fumin', I grab a fistful of peanuts from the bowl in front of me and pop one at a time into my mouth. My teeth crunch down hard. Every pore in my body is oozin' with anger. That girl didn't deserve what I did to her, but she pissed me off. Everyone knows better than to piss me off. I can't control my anger. Not ever since the accident. Everyone tells me I was a gentle giant, a mama's boy. Yeah, well, not anymore. A lot has changed since the accident, and that girl is better off seein' the real me before she got any further into her delusion of who I was back in high school.

  I can still hear her voice in my head. Colton James. The way she said my first and middle names together sparked something inside of me. A fragmented memory from deep within the recesses of my brain pierced its way through. A flashback of her sayin' my name sliced through my brain, and then it was gone in an instant. It had to have been a memory, because I've never seen this girl before --- even though she seemed so damn familiar. Petite and gorgeous with long, blonde hair that I could lose my hands in. But her eyes are what had me almost crumblin' to my knees. Those stormy gray eyes reminded me of the girl in my dreams. The girl who I'm always tryin' to chase after but can never quite catch.

  "Want to talk about what just happened?" Buddy asks, bringin' me out of my thoughts.

  "No," I quickly answer. My fingers curl around the bottle, and I chug the rest of its contents. "I'm out," I te
ll Buddy before gettin' up in a hurry.

  "All right, Colt. I'll see you tomorrow," Buddy calls after me.

  I walk outside, around the back of the bar and towards the big, old house sittin' a hundred yards away on a hill. It was my parents' place, but now I own it along with their bar. Everything was given to me when they died. And I'd give it all away to have them back again.

  As I walk, my mind is foggy with alcohol as it attempts to focus on one thing and one thing only --- the girl from the bar.

  She evidently knows me, but I can't remember her. I don't even know her damn name. Maybe I'll ask Buddy about her tomorrow. I'm not sure if I had any jealous ex-girlfriends back in high school or not. That piece of my memory is wiped clean, and I refuse to live in the past by rememberin' shit that doesn't matter. I only have my very lonely future to look forward to. I faced that fact a long time ago.

  Pushin' on my temples to try to ward off a throbbin' headache, I growl as I climb the front porch steps. My old bloodhound Mack lets out a long howl and wags his tail in greetin' before followin' me into the house. Once he's safely inside, I slam the front door.

  My hands clench into fists at my sides as I try desperately to get the girl out of my head. I close my eyes, but all I can see is her beautiful and stormy gray eyes. They looked so familiar, but I couldn't possibly remember her. I don't remember anything before five years ago.

  The doctors told my friends and family not to push me; that when I was ready I would come around on my own. Well, I haven't reached that point of bein' ready, and I don't think I ever will. I just want to live in the now and say screw the past. I don't want to live in a past I can't remember when I can barely stand livin' in the present.

  I run up the stairs, takin' two at a time to one of the spare bedrooms. I pause and take a deep breath before goin' in. Most of the bedrooms I haven't been in for months. It's too hard for me to see their empty beds that they'll never sleep in again.

  My eyes scan the small room before finally landin' on a box of memorabilia that my parents had collected over the years. My fingertips trace my mom's delicate handwritin' on the lid before I open the box. Mom's been gone for eight years, and dad only one. My dad made sure I remembered a lot about my mother, no matter how painful it was. I lost my little brother Connor in the accident, but I only remember bits and pieces about him. I'm sure I could remember more if I allowed myself to let the memories in, but I'm too chicken shit to do that. Rememberin' the past is too painful, and I've been through enough pain in the past few years to last me a lifetime.

  When my dad was still alive, I begged him to keep the past in the past; but he insisted on makin' me remember some of the more important things. In the end, I was thankful for what he did; because once he passed, I had no one left to talk to. I block out a lot of my life before the accident only because it's easier to cope. I've lost more than most people my age have, and it's a tough thing to face on a daily basis. I cope the best I can, probably better than the majority ever would. Some days I don't even feel like gettin' out of bed, but I do it anyway. I keep on livin' because that's what they would have wanted. But sometimes it doesn't feel much like livin'. The fact of the matter is that they're all gone, and I'm still here. Alone.

  Sighin' heavily, I dig through the box's contents until I find what I'm lookin' for. It's a small picture of me kissin' a pretty girl. I look to be about seventeen or eighteen in the picture. I can only see the side view of her face, but I know instantly that it's the girl from the bar. On the bottom in black marker are the words I will love you forever, Colton James.

  Colton James. That's what she called me in the bar. Those are the words that made me rein in my temper. Sometimes I get so mad about what happened that I can't concentrate or control myself. One of my doctors had told me that's just one of the side effects of havin' massive head trauma and swellin' on the brain. But it all comes down to the fact that life isn't very fair when everyone you love is dead…especially when you're the cause of your little brother dyin'.

  I was drivin' that night. I don't even remember where we were goin', but Connor was with me. We were probably goin' on a late-night food run. He always loved to do that. That much I remember. He was tryin' to bulk up for the football team, and I was helpin' him. He was eatin' us out of house and home, but dad never breathed a word about the grocery bill. Dad always wanted what was best for us, and he knew Connor was excited to join the team.

  The details of the accident are hazy at best, but I remembered some of the details after I finally woke up from a coma several months later. The doctors told me that a drunk driver hit the car I was drivin'. The car rolled several times before we crashed into a big pond. We were both unconscious, but I managed to come to just as the car was startin' to sink to the bottom. It took me a while to get my seat belt off. I can remember the blood from my head wound cloudin' my vision and makin' me woozy. I desperately tried to unhook Connor's seat belt after I was freed. I refused to go to the surface without him. But the water was comin' in through the broken windshield, and I couldn't breathe. And then everything started to go black. That's all I remember. My dad told me that some passerby pulled me from the lake and performed CPR until the paramedics got there. He saved my life, but I was unconscious and couldn't tell him or anyone, for that matter, that my brother was on the bottom of that lake. Connor died, and I survived.

  Like I said, life isn't very fair.

  I stare at the picture of the mystery girl and me for a few more minutes before tuckin' it safely back into the box. No one else calls me Colton James, so I must have been close to this girl. I just wish I could remember why. Shakin' my head, I decide it's best not to even go there, because thinkin' about the past brings up other memories too, memories I don't want to recall since most of them are painful reminders that I'm here and they're not.

  Still feelin' upset and angry, I leave the house and go to a place that always seems to bring me solace. It's the only peaceful place I know.

  * * * * *

  PENNY

  I RUN THROUGH the front door of my parents' house and slam it behind me. Oh, it feels good to take my anger out on something when I can't take my anger out on someone. Colton was definitely pushing my buttons tonight. His cocky attitude is something he always saved for other girls. He was never like that with me, so he had to have known it would piss me off. How could he just sit there and act like he didn't know me? Asshole, I scream in my head. And I don't regret calling him that…twice. Nope, not even the littlest bit. He totally deserved it.

  Fuming, I walk through the extravagant entry hall and into the adjoining library where my parents sit. This is their favorite place in the house, and it used to be mine too. They are both relaxed with a book in their hands, and it reminds me of how my life growing up in this house was. We never owned a television set, so I couldn't watch MTV or movies or anything else the other kids in school watched. I guess that's why I spent most of my summers over at the Crawfords' house, which is just a hop, skip and a jump from our house. They had four televisions and junk food and all the other things a kid craves. But best of all, Mr. and Mrs. Crawford were always there. That's one thing I could never count on my parents for --- being there for me.

  My mother peers over the top of her reading glasses at me. "What's wrong, Penelope? You look upset."

  I take a few deep breaths in an attempt to calm down before I finally speak. "Well, I took your advice and got out of the house. I went to Crawford's Bar and ---."

  She suddenly sits upright, puts the book down next to her without even saving her place and vehemently stares at me. "Oh," she says sternly.

  I'm confused by her sudden interest in where I've been, but I continue. "I saw Colton, and he acted like he didn't even know who I was." I close my eyes, pinch the bridge of my nose and blow out a long sigh of frustration. I'm still seething from our interaction. I thought he would be happy to see me. Boy, was I wrong. "He was a complete jerk, and we ended up getting into an argument in front of the e
ntire bar. I've never been so embarrassed in my life," I confess. When I look up, my mother is nervously ringing her hands and shooting glances at my father, who looks equally worried. "What is going on?" I ask. "Why does it feel like I'm the last person to know a big secret? Everyone in town has been giving me the same look all day. It's like I should know something that I don't. What is it? Did something happen while I was in New York?"

  My parents stay quiet for a long time, and I wonder if they're ever going to answer me. My father finally clears his throat. "Penny, we should have told you ---."

  "Martin, no," my mother protests.

  "Virginia, she has a right to know. She should have known all along." He shakes his head and sighs. "It's not right keeping it from her. Not the way they were. Not what she was to him and what he was to her."

  I place my hands on my hips and stare between the two of them. They're obviously talking about Colton. "Okay. Somebody better tell me what's going on," I say. "Right now," I add, forcefully.

  My father stands and leads me over to a large oak secretary desk. "I'm going to show you."

  "Show me?" I ask in uncertainty.

  He opens a drawer and extracts a manila folder. He places it on top of the desk and opens it. The folder is full of newspaper articles, and the first heading in big bold print is CONNOR CRAWFORD KILLED IN CAR ACCIDENT.

  "Oh no!" Colton's brother is dead. My hands tremble as I choke back my emotions. Connor was always like a little brother to me. I had no idea he even died.

  Shaking my head, I try to refocus my attention back to Colton. Is this why he's so angry? Because his brother is dead? But why would he direct that anger towards me?