If I Forget You

by Michelle D. Argyle

  “I don’t think we should go out again … at least anytime soon,” she said quickly before her courage faded away. “I feel like I’ve used you—that night at the party. I thought you were …”

  She finally looked up at him, her breath catching in her throat. How could she tell him she had wanted him because she’d thought he was Jordan? Or had it been the other way around? It had all started with Kent that very first day in English, so maybe it really was him she had liked and her brain had mixed it all up.

  His eyebrows rose and he waited for her to continue. She liked that he wasn’t making any assumptions yet.

  “I thought you were exactly what I wanted,” she explained as vaguely as possible “… and I was what you wanted, but I … it’s just too fast for me.”

  There. Out. Kind of.

  His lips twitched at the corners and his thumb slid from her watch. “I understand, sure.” He nodded vigorously, as if convincing himself this was exactly how everything should happen. At that moment, he didn’t seem like the player Jordan had described. He seemed truly heartbroken, and it hurt her to watch it play across his face.

  “Kent, I hope you’re not—”

  “I’m always like this,” he interrupted. “I’m always too fast with relationships. It’s just how I am, I guess.” He shrugged. “Girls figure I’m a player and they leave after a few dates. It’s just that I … I guess I’m afraid to lose people once I have them interested, so I rush everything.”

  He watched her carefully, probably hoping she’d feel bad and take back what she’d said. Or maybe he wasn’t that shallow.

  “I don’t think you’re a player. That’s not why I’m doing this.” You have no idea how complicated it really is.

  He stepped back an inch. “I promise I’ll slow down. Would that help?”

  She chewed on her bottom lip. This was like a quiet tug-of-war. “I just hope you’re not upset if I go out with other people, that’s all.”

  He looked relieved. “So, you’re saying you don’t want to end this completely, right? We can still go out again sometime?”

  She knew it was probably best to cut it off, but she’d still see him in English class twice a week. And she’d be lying if she said she didn’t enjoy being with him. They had a connection, just not as strong as her and Jordan’s connection.

  “Sure,” she said, nodding. “That’s what I’m saying.”

  “Perfect.” He smiled softly, looking as if he wanted to reach out and touch her again. He refrained. “I’ll see you Monday?”

  “Yeah, Monday.” She nodded goodbye as he took off toward his class. She went in the opposite direction. On her way, she pulled out her notebook for keeping track of people and events and stopped for a moment to write about what had just happened.

  Halfway through the entry, she paused.

  “Look at you, Ave. Seriously. Just look,” Tam’s voice echoed through her head.

  For a long moment, she saw her Post-it notes scattered across the table next to her turkey sandwich. She saw her life in those Post-its. They had been her mom’s idea, and they had always worked better than any other reminder system she’d ever tried. The notebooks worked for recording memories. She loved cataloging everything after it had happened, knowing it was forever tucked away on paper. But was it the best way to live? Maybe writing everything down was ruling her life as much as Tam had ruled her life back in high school.

  Then a thought occurred to her—one that frightened her to her very core. What if she threw it all away, just as she had planned when she’d first moved here? She was putting a stop to hurting the guys in her life, as backward as it seemed. So why not put a stop to other things? Maybe it was worth a shot. After all, she hadn’t had any problems in classes yet. She could still take notes for school, but the Post-its could go. The notebook in her hands could go.

  Walking quickly to a trashcan, she almost tossed the notebook into the gaping hole filled with empty cans and food wrappers. Her fingers trembled. No, no she couldn’t. It would be like throwing away everything her mother had taught her. She would be throwing away memories. The notebook she held was filled with everything from the past few weeks—details about Kent, Jordan, and Owen. There were entire paragraphs about all the kissing. Details about Kent’s Jeep and Jordan’s chocolate torte. A description of Lake Union and the city lights reflecting off the water at night. She wouldn’t have remembered the name of that lake if she hadn’t written about it that night before bed. Would she?

  That was the thing. She had no idea. It made her question how well she really knew herself without the notebooks and Post-its and reminders. But there were things she remembered very well. Her father, for one, and he’d been gone for so long. She could remember him like everything had happened yesterday, like her brain knew if it got rid of anything concerning him, she’d shut down. Maybe subconsciously something was going on there. Maybe it was a way for her to fix her forgetfulness for good.

  The notebook slipped from her fingers, landing in the trashcan with a thud. Her heart nearly stopped, but before she could change her mind she forced herself to walk away. At every trashcan along the way to her next class, she pulled out another notebook and dropped it in. She threw in her multi-colored stacks of Post-its, including the yellow Post-it that reminded her to mail a birthday card to her mom and to buy Chloe a present.

  She would remember.

  * * *

  For the rest of the day, Avery prioritized things in her head the same way she would on paper. There was work, which had become uncomfortably lonely down in that dank room all by herself. Heaven was coming into work before or after Avery’s shift, leaving half-finished projects on the table. Avery wanted to confront her and tell her she wasn’t going to date Jordan anymore, but the truth was she hadn’t seen him since that night. She had no idea where things stood with him.

  Next on her list was dinner with Chloe. After that, create an excuse to go out shopping alone so she could find a present for tomorrow. If she kept everything simple, it wasn’t difficult to remember the things she had to do.

  “You sure you don’t want a ride?” Chloe asked as Avery washed the dinner dishes in the sink. “Or you can take my car if you want, I don’t mind.”

  Avery scrubbed at a stubborn spot on a pan and shrugged. “No, the bus is fine. I don’t know the roads that well, anyway, and parking can be a pain.”

  “There’s always GPS on your phone for directions.”

  “I know, but it’s fine, I promise. I’ll just take the bus. I want to get out and see the city a little and not have to worry about driving.”

  “Okay.” Chloe leaned against the counter, watching Avery. “I’ll probably be in bed by the time you get back.”

  Avery nodded. “I’ll give you a call if I need anything.”

  Later, after she’d finished up a few homework assignments, Avery slipped on a pair of walking shoes and a jacket and walked to the bus stop a block away. The sun had gone down, leaving the sky a light gray clouded over with some nonthreatening rainclouds.

  Nobody was at the bus stop, and as she waited she almost pulled out her phone to check her reminder list for anything she might have missed. No. She wouldn’t check it. She could remember things. She could.

  Before the bus arrived, the familiar rumble of a bullet bike grew closer. Avery’s heart thumped a few times as she looked up to see Jordan approaching, probably coming home from work. He drove by, doing a double take as he passed, and then slowed down. Making a U-turn, he drove back to the bus stop and pulled up to the curb right in front of her. She couldn’t help but smile. He looked so good on that bike in a suit and tie, even with a helmet over his head.

  “Ave,” he said, lifting his visor. “Where you going?”

  She looked up to see the bus approaching a few blocks down. “Heading into town for some shopping. I need to get my aunt a birthday present.”

  He nodded and looked over his shoulder at the bus. “Do you want a ride? The bus isn’t fun
at all.”

  Laughing, she shifted her feet and remembered the thrill she’d felt riding on the back of Jordan’s bike.

  “So, you’re saying you want to shop with me?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. “Or are you just going to drop me off somewhere?”

  He pulled off his helmet and ran a hand through his flattened hair. “No, I’ll keep you company. Where do you want to go?”

  “Downtown to Westlake.”

  “No problem. Maybe we can get a coffee or something—or, if you want, I can take you down to the Market. It’s right there. Lots of shops there too, but a lot of them might be closed this late. Maybe another night, earlier?”

  “Um, sure, I guess.”

  “So, the mall tonight, then?”

  He looked so hopeful. What was she doing? This was not the way to end things with him. She’d managed to straighten things out with Kent and Owen, so why not Jordan?

  “Yeah, a ride would be great.”

  A grin spread across his face. “Good. Hop on and we’ll stop by my house for another helmet.”

  Before she knew what was happening, they were on I-5 heading into downtown. The cool night air whipped her hair against her back, and she held on to Jordan as tightly as she could. The freeway flew beneath them, the bike an extension of Jordan’s movements. When he tilted his body, the bike tilted with him. Changing lanes, he zipped through traffic, and they were soon pulling into a parking garage at the shopping center.

  Avery pulled off her helmet and breathed a sigh of relief as she stepped onto firm ground.

  “I think I could get used to that,” she laughed, trying to pull her fingers through her hair, “but my hair, not so much. It’ll take three hours to brush out all these tangles.”

  Jordan laughed and took her helmet, locking both helmets to the bike before they walked into the shopping center and Avery led him into a candy store.

  “Does your aunt have a sweet tooth?” Jordan asked as she browsed the bins filled with odd assortments of gummy candies and jellybeans.

  “I honestly have no idea,” she mumbled, stopping in front of a little display of rock candy suckers. Each stick was at least six inches long, covered in square crystals all stuck together. She pulled a green one off the display and twirled it in her fingers, reliving a day with her father when she was little. He’d bought her one of these. It was really the only thing she remembered about that day, besides her dad’s smile and the way he’d lifted her onto his shoulders so she could see everything as they walked and she ate the sucker.

  “Do you want that?” Jordan asked, inching closer.

  “What? Oh, maybe.” She held on to the sucker and kept walking through the store, taking in the smell of sugar, the echoes of the mall just outside the glass walls, the feel of the sucker leaving her hand as Jordan gave it to the cashier so he could pay for it. Not that she’d asked him to pay for it, but he seemed pretty intent, so she let him.

  Pulling him into store after store, she licked the sucker as he plucked sour jellybeans from a bag he’d bought for himself. For an hour, she let her mind wander through a million things, none of them having to do with the hot guy in a suit at her side. She liked the way he stuck right by her, acting interested, but she couldn’t bring herself all the way into the moment. For some reason, trying to find Chloe a present made her distant. She kept thinking about W and what Chloe had lost, and about her mom and how every phone call now got shorter and shorter. Granted, it was only a few weeks into the quarter, but at this rate Avery feared she and her mother wouldn’t even be calling each other by the end.

  What had happened to clinging to each other so her dad’s death didn’t hurt so much? It was as if she’d not only dumped her notebooks into the trashcan yesterday, but something else too. Something she couldn’t ever get back.

  “How’s your coffee?” Jordan asked after they’d settled themselves at a table in a nearby coffee shop.

  “It’s good, thanks.” She sipped her coffee and looked out the window at buses driving by, their taillights leaving streaks of red in her vision.

  “Avery?”

  She looked up at Jordan. He’d taken off his tie earlier and rolled it up in his suit coat pocket. Looking at his shirt collar, she remembered trailing her hand down his chest and the weight of him on top of her. It had only been a few days ago, but it felt like forever. She was already hurting him, she could tell. Her distance was confusing him. It was confusing her too, but not in the way she’d expected.

  “I’m fine,” she said softly.

  He watched her for a moment, as if trying to figure out a puzzle. “I know we’re not together,” he finally said, “but I’m here for you anyway. I can tell something’s wrong. Do you want to talk about it?”

  “I miss my dad,” she whispered down at her coffee, afraid to look Jordan in the eyes. “I miss my mom, too, even though she’s still alive and only a few hours away. I know I sound childish, but it hurts, and I—” She looked up at him, meeting his eyes as red and yellow lights from the traffic slid across his face. “I’m afraid I’m going to hurt you, Jordan. I like you a lot and I don’t want to hurt you. I already told you about Kent and Owen, but there’s something I haven’t told you.”

  Could she tell him? She wanted to, so badly. She thought about her journal falling into the trashcan, about Tam telling her she hadn’t changed one bit, and she knew that if anything was going to change, it had to start here.

  “What didn’t you tell me?” He leaned forward, pushing aside his coffee.

  “I didn’t tell you that I mixed you up with them.”

  His brow furrowed. “Huh?”

  Panicking for a moment, she glanced out the window and counted to twenty. Would she sound completely ridiculous?

  “I forget things really easily,” she explained in a breathless voice, meeting his eyes again. “It’s not something I tell many people. I forget faces and names, and for a little while, I thought you and Kent and Owen were one person. When I realized my mistake, it was too late, and that’s how … how I ended up liking all three of you. I’m sorry. I know it sounds stupid, but I—”

  “Avery, slow down. It’s okay.”

  A smile lifted his lips, and she was pretty sure it wasn’t an amused smile, but one of relief.

  “No, listen,” she said before her courage drained completely dry. “I don’t want to end up hurting you. You’ve been hurt enough with your wife’s death.” She put a hand to her forehead. “I can’t remember her name.”

  His smile fell. “Callie.”

  “Yes, Callie. See, I’ve hurt a lot of people on accident. If you’re looking for someone solid you can count on … I’m … I’m not that person. I know how long you’ve been alone now, and you say I’m different, but I—”

  “Avery, I said it’s okay.” He reached out and touched her wrist, brushing his fingers over her watch, just as Kent had done. “I’m not expecting anything, okay? Giving you a ride here isn’t something you have to repay me for, and I’ve already told you dinner this Friday isn’t something you have to do if you don’t want to.”

  She’d forgotten about the dinner on Friday. She blinked.

  “Have you told Kent and Owen what you just told me?” he asked.

  She shook her head.

  “Oh, okay.” Sitting back in his chair, he wet his lips and looked out the window. Now it was his turn to be distant.

  “You don’t think I’m crazy?” she asked, confused. It was as if she’d thrown a great weight off her shoulders. She felt relieved but anxious.

  “Crazy?” He looked away from the window and gave her an understanding smile. “No, not at all. I kind of figured you had a problem remembering things already.”

  Oh, no. “You did?”

  “Yeah. I’ve noticed you repeat things a lot, but it’s no big deal.” He flashed her a smile. “I think it’s endearing.”

  Tam had thought her forgetfulness was endearing, too, and that hadn’t carried over when jealousy entered the equat
ion.

  “Well, you’ve been warned,” she said. “So don’t forget it.”

  His eyes twinkled over his coffee cup. “Even I forget things sometimes, but I don’t think I’ll ever forget that you mixed me up with Kent. How that’s even possible, I have no idea.”

  She sighed. “I think I’m attracted to blondish hair and blue eyes. You all have that going on.”

  “Kent’s eyes are more gray, aren’t they?”

  She squinted, trying to remember Kent’s eyes. His eyes or Owen’s eyes had dark blue rims around a lighter blue iris, but she couldn’t remember whose was whose. She had probably written it down in her notebook, but it was too late to look that up now.

  “I honestly don’t know,” she mumbled.

  “And Kent’s hair isn’t really that light, is it? It’s more like a dark blond, I guess. I just can’t see how we look even remotely alike.”

  He was teasing her now, and she set down her cup and rolled her eyes. “It happened, okay? If you want me to go out with you on Friday, you can’t tease me about this. And don’t tell anyone, please. Especially Kent. Heaven knows, but don’t talk to her about it.”

  “Oh, Heaven,” he laughed. “She was still at my house when I got home on Tuesday. She told me I won’t win the challenge if it’s you I bring on Friday. She said it won’t count unless we’re dating exclusively. She’s just being a brat so don’t worry about her. I’d still like you to come.”

  Avery folded her arms. “And if we were dating exclusively, what then? Would you get some sort of prize or something?”

  “I would get the satisfaction of knowing I met her challenge, but I’ll feel like I’ve met it either way, so don’t worry. We don’t have to be dating.”

  She wondered if hanging out with him was the same as dating. Probably not. As they rode back home, she tried not to love the way it felt to hold on to him. He was confident and in control about everything in his life, even the hard things he’d gone through. It was impossible not to love the way it felt to be wrapped around someone like that. She had told him about her forgetfulness—about one of the most embarrassing mistakes she’d ever made—and he’d shrugged it off. She supposed that compared to losing a spouse from cancer, her little weaknesses were insignificant to him. He probably saw the world on a much larger scale. It was something she wanted in her own life, but she wasn’t sure she wanted to cross the bridges it might take to get there.