Forget Me Not

by Goodmore, Jade

  I collect my bag from the trunk and return to pay my fare.

  "No, ma’am. It's already been taken care of."

  "Sorry?"

  "The gentleman at the hotel paid me more than enough. Have a nice evening ma’am," he says, and with that he's gone.

  Jesse paid the fare. Of course he did. No doubt it was guilt money for not bringing me home himself. I’m just about to retrieve my phone so I can text Jesse to thank him when I hear Benjamin’s laughter from inside.

  I stride up the steps and in through the front door, dropping my bag to the floor. Following the sound of voices I make my way to the heart of the house, the kitchen. Benjamin is sat at the table with a paintbrush in his hand and my mother hovering over him lovingly.

  "What ya’ making?" I ask, grinning when they both look up at me.

  "Mom!" Benji shouts excitedly, and I walk over to kiss him on the head. "Look what we made! It's a dinosaur!" He points proudly at the squiggly mess in front of him.

  "That's fantastic!" I enthuse. "Looks like you’ve had a nice time with Grandma and Grandpa. Did you look after them?"

  "Yeah, are we coming for lunch tomorrow? Grandpa’s tired now so I told him to rest but he’ll be okay tomorrow, right?" he asks, only half paying attention to my answer as he clumsily casts his paintbrush over the clay.

  "Maybe, sweetheart. Grandma and Grandpa might want a bit of a rest."

  "Nonsense," my mom chips in, "I’m already marinating the meat."

  "Thanks, Mom." I say, knowing that it pleases her just as much as it pleases me. She worries that we live on cereal and takeouts. She’s not completely wrong.

  "Cup of tea?"

  "Yes, please." We walk over to the kettle, leaving Benjamin to put the final touches to his dinosaur. I watch my mom work. Her usually sparkling eyes a little strained and her golden hair messier than standard. She’s either been run off her feet with Benji or she’s been fretting about something.

  "Did you have a nice time?"

  "Yes, thanks. Pretty tired now though," I yawn.

  "But, you’re okay?" she asks with a knowing glint in her eyes. I know she has her mother’s instincts honed in on me and she is fully aware that something is up.

  "Yeah, just tired like I said," I reply, shrugging, unwilling to offer the information she’s rooting for.

  "You know what I’m asking, Michaela." She lowers her voice. "Did you see Jesse?"

  I don’t know why I assumed for one moment that she didn’t know the real reason behind my going to the reunion. She never mentioned it beforehand, but she probably didn’t want to risk planting the idea in my head.

  "We spoke. He’s fine. I’m fine," I omit, shrugging my shoulders and trying to appear indifferent. Suddenly I feel like a child again, lying to my mother.

  "So, you haven't spent the afternoon with him?" She’s looking at the kettle as she pours the hot water into the cups and yet I still feel like she is reading my mind.

  "What? Why would you..?" I don't get chance to finish my denial before she tells me that she saw my car parked outside Emma’s house when she went to the store. Assuming I was back she came to meet me, only for Emma to fob her off with some story about me going for a walk. Bless Emma for covering for me, but it was in vain. My mom knew immediately that I was with Jesse.

  "Do you not remember last time?" she asks. Her voice is weak and I get the impression that she most certainly does. I hurt for my parents when I think of how I was back then, but since I became a mother myself, to think of Benjamin hurting like that makes the pain impossibly worse.

  "Yes, of course I do, Mom," I insist. I clear my throat, and touch her hand. "But, we aren't seventeen anymore. We’re adults. We talked and it was lovely. Please don't worry about me."

  She huffs and rolls her eyes. "Of course I’ll worry about you. That’s my job. I can't pretend that I think this is a good idea, but I agree, you’re an adult now. So, behave like one. You have Ben to think of now, too."

  Her words cut into me. I don't know whether she’s implying that I will forget about Benji if I fall in love again or whether she thinks that when I’m heartbroken and mourning I’ll allow Benji to be affected by it. Whichever her opinion, they’re both difficult to digest and my petulant immatureness rears its ugly head.

  "I am fully aware of that, thank you. I don’t need you treating me like a child when I am a mother myself. Benjamin won’t be affected by my seeing Jesse. I doubt I’ll be seeing him again, anyway. Thanks for the tea, but I should get going.” I exhale loudly in order to rid my body of its annoyance and when I feel calmer I turn and speak to Benjamin. "Are you done now, sweetheart?”

  "It's not dry yet,” he answers, pointing to his masterpiece.

  "Well, we can leave it here to dry and bring it home tomorrow, can't we?"

  "Oh, okay," he sighs, jumping down from the chair and finally falling into my arms. I kiss his head again and inhale his homely scent.

  "Say thank you to Grandma for looking after you."

  "Thank you, Grandma. Will you look after my dinosaur please?"

  "Of course, Ben. Bye-bye, darling. We’ll see you tomorrow." She gives him a sloppy kiss and then leans in and kisses my cheek.

  “See you tomorrow. Love you.”

  "Bye, Mom. Love you too.” Argument forgotten.

  Benjamin stays up late, again, but I’ve missed him and want to spend some more time with him. We watch his favorite Batman cartoon on repeat until he falls asleep and I carry him to bed.

  In his absence I allow myself a glass of white wine. It's cheap and nasty and I shouldn’t be drinking it, but it’s all that’s here and I’m in desperate need of some alcohol generated clarity.

  In my haven of peace and quiet I allow my mind to wander. What a day, seeing the love of my life again, the intimacy, the playfulness, the beach, the goodbye.

  The goodbye.

  I was meant to call Jesse when I got home. I pull the phone from my bag, thinking that it’d be easier to just text him. I’m shocked to find four messages and seven missed calls. Only the first one is from Emma.

  Call me! Ur mom has just been here! I think she knows u r with Jesse! xxx

  Are you home safe?

  Have u forgotten about me already?

  Okay, I’m worried now. Call me ASAP

  Emma has tried to call once but the rest of the calls are from an unknown number. When I check his business card I find that the number matches Jesse's cell. I’m pretty surprised at how intent he is on getting hold of me. I assumed his instructions to call were out of politeness. He must think I’m ignoring him, that I don’t want to speak to him. He couldn't be any further from the truth.

  After texting Emma to let her know I’m okay and that I’ll update her soon, I type in Jesse’s number, save it to my phone and then call it, all the while biting my finger nails in nervous anticipation.

  No answer.

  That's it. I’ve blown it. I fill up my glass and prepare for a miserable night grieving the loss of my only love for the second time. Then, my phone rings. The name Jesse flashes at me on the screen and I take the call at once, annoyed with my inner drama queen.

  "Jesse?" I answer sharply.

  "Mickey, are you okay?" His voice is tense and he’s talking loudly over a rumbling of background noise.

  "Yes, I'm fine. I'm so sorry I..."

  "What?" he shouts. "Mickey, I can't hear you, hold on a minute." The line goes quiet except for a faint shuffling sound. A minute goes by before it goes completely quiet. Has he hung up?

  "You still there?" a breathy Jesse asks. Without the background noise I can fully appreciate how his voice doesn’t lose its charm over the phone. It’s smooth and laced with masculinity.

  "I'm here. Jesse, I'm sorry I didn't get back to you before. I left my phone in my bag and then I had a few things to deal with here."

  "Is Benjamin okay?" he asks. I startle slightly, his worry throwing me off.

  "Yeah, he's great. He's tucked up in bed. Why?”


  "I was worried," he replies, his voice softened.

  "About Benjamin?"

  "About you. I thought you hadn't made it back safely, and then yeah, I was worried in case Benjamin was poorly or something and that's why you weren’t able to get to a phone," he explains. I sink into the sofa and feel myself warm from the sound of his voice, from his concern.

  "No, everything’s fine. Thanks for the concern though. My mom was a bit difficult, but other than that it’s all good."

  "Difficult?"

  "Yeah, she guessed I was with you."

  "You didn't tell her earlier?"

  "No…I didn't want her to worry. I told her I was with Emma." My hand covers my face to hide my embarrassment at being caught out, even though he can't see me. I don’t want to go into details regarding the reasoning behind my mother’s dislike towards him. Not over the phone at least.

  "Why would she worry?"

  Cringing, I admit defeat. "Because…she knows how I feel about you. She knows how I took it when you left and so, I guess she just doesn't want to see me get hurt again." I reluctantly confess. Silence vibrates between us for some time before I say, "Jesse?"

  He exhales slowly. "How did you take it?" His voice is a hesitant whisper.

  I mirror his hesitance. "I thought you didn't want to do this now?" I whisper back, repeating his line from earlier today in the hope that Jesse will spare me this conversation. I want to be with him when or if we are able to open up to each other, not miles apart.

  "No, you’re right, I don't. Sorry. Soon though, okay?" He suddenly sounds so distant and I sag, regretting the direction of our exchange.

  "Yeah, okay."

  "I have to go Mickey, I'm at work and Saturdays are pretty busy."

  "Oh, of course. I-I'll speak to you soon?" I stutter in disappointment.

  "Soon, I promise. Bye, sweets."

  "Bye."

  The line goes dead. The warmth that radiated from his voice and blanketed me just seconds ago has vanished, so I reach for the throw on the back of the sofa and pull it over myself. I contemplate turning on the television, but no amount of fiction can match the drama that is currently ravaging its way through my life. I need to stop thinking about him, over thinking about him, but it's all I can do to convince myself that the last eventful twenty-four hours has been real.

  Unable to let go and desperate to feed my Jesse addiction, I retrieve the laptop from the coffee table and fire it up, hesitating before typing his new name into Google. No going back now.

  LEE JENNER.

  Suddenly, a catalogue of unexpected pages are listed and my mouth hangs open in shock. All this time I thought he was absent from any source of public records, when really he was simply known under another name. Some search results regard other Lee Jenner’s, but the ones about my Jesse all detail the same things; his success, his money, his bars, restaurants and nightclubs. All of which Jesse has yet to tell me about. I should be annoyed at his reluctance to share this with me. You’d think he would want to shout about his success from the rooftops. Unless he doesn’t trust me? The thought makes me feel a little ill.

  As I continue to scour the results I learn of a Jesse that I’ve never known and several things occur to me…

  He is rich. Not Bill Gates rich but rich beyond anything I’d have imagined for a runaway teen. His rise to success is highly anticipated and I’m impressed, but I would be impressed with anything that Jesse found himself doing. After the start to life he had it’s a miracle he isn’t behind bars.

  He’s pretty well known. Known in the financial circuit especially, but his name also appears in the same context as some celebrities. Not as an equal match, but it seems as though his bars are used as celebrity hangouts and he plays host. I curse myself for never having read any gossip magazines. If I had then maybe I would have found Jesse without needing to attend a school reunion.

  Jesse is a player. It’s clear that Jesse enjoys spending time with a wealth of beautiful women. I guess that’s what happens with success. I can’t say that I’m surprised, his looks alone would always make him a catch, but I’m quite hurt at the volume of articles devoted to these conquests.

  Despite everything, what strikes me as the most odd is the lack of knowledge the media has regarding Jesse’s past. Considering how much information is offered about Mr. Jenner, nothing is mentioned of his beginnings here in Starling. To anyone else it appears that Lee Jenner just fell out of the sky with riches to his name. The wrong name.

  Sites offer information charting his continuing success, predicting big things for him and his bank balance. I skip the majority of it, preferring to wait to hear it from his mouth. Now that I know I can, it doesn't feel as big a deal to have all this information readily available. Before I knew where he was or how he was doing, the internet was my only choice. Knowing I can speak to him and talk this through, that's exactly what I want to do. When he is ready.

  I’m just about to close the web browser down when I notice one of the search results from a celebrity gossip magazine. It’s a recent article, dated only a week ago. I can't help myself as I click on the highlighted caption.

  Sienna Simone Caught With Hot Bachelor Lee Jenner!

  The link opens up a vividly pink page with no end of celeb stories bordering the screen. I scan the relevant text and scroll down to a photo of Jesse, captioned as Lee Jenner, with his hands all over a stunning blonde, an actress that I recognize. I feel like I’ve been kicked in the stomach. I wasn’t so naïve to think he’d never been with a woman other than me, but to see it flaunted across my laptop disturbs me so much that I physically feel sick.

  The image itself is almost indecent. His one hand is underneath her shirt and his other cupping her nearly exposed ass. They’re wide eyed and shocked to have been caught. I’m embarrassed for both of them, but mostly for myself. He clearly hasn’t been mourning a lost love, and the whole world knows it. It’s also unpleasant to see that his taste has so drastically improved. Sienna is younger, blonder and skinnier than I, not to mention famous. How can I believe that he has missed me when he has found such perfect replacements? Looking down at my sweatpants and mismatching wooly socks I wonder what perfectly dressed and manicured woman he’s fondling tonight. The bile that rises in my throat is soon banished with the help of another glass of ghastly wine.

  The article is a week old. Has he really ended things with her and started things with me, all in such a short timeframe, or am I just a dirty little secret? I could remain positive and insist he is single. She could have just been a onetime thing. I imagine if he owns various nightclubs then women with as little reserve as her are easy to find. I’m not sure which idea troubles me more. The idea that he’s playing the field or that he’s in a relationship. I’d like to think that Jesse is a better person than that of a cheat. He feels compassion like no other, or he used to at least. Surely I know him well enough to be able to say that he wouldn’t do this to me. Or even to her.

  Regardless of who she is, the fact that they’ve so recently and so publically been intimate fills me with revulsion. Now I can’t help but think this ends it for us before we’ve even had a chance at our second beginning.

  What do I do? Do I just ask him outright or is it too weird that I Googled him? Will he brand me a stalker? Shit, Michaela, you and your stupid ideas. Turning the laptop off without even bothering to close it down properly, I down the rest of my glass and shuffle up the stairs to bed. All of the happiness from today has been snatched away by the cruelness that is knowledge.

  Chapter 10

  My happiness hasn't returned with the rise of the sun. Back at my parent’s house for our usual Sunday family gathering and my mom’s been eyeing me worriedly all day. I expect she’s waiting for me to crumble. I hardly look a pillar of strength with my weary eyes and lax attention span. I’m trying to act perfectly fine but my efforts are tarnished by my lack of sleep. The only one fooled by my pretence is Benjamin. Thankfully, he remains oblivious to
both my inner turmoil and our family’s watchful eyes.

  It's not even like I'm upset or in need of looking after, I’m just…apprehensive. I feel like I should have all of my answers by now, but instead I have more questions.

  As if having to be careful around my parents and Benji isn't taxing enough, my sister, Joanna is here. I love her, and we get on great, but she was never Jesse's biggest fan. Her presence at our Sunday gatherings is not a regular occurrence. Her demanding job as the local pediatrician keeps her busy. It’s rare for her to have a Sunday free, and when she does her immediate concern isn’t to grace our parent’s doorstep. Hence, the reasoning behind her unusual appearance is blatant; my mom has told her all about my afternoon with Jesse.

  Despite the motive behind her presence she has barely said a word to me all day. Instead, she simply surveys me throughout dinner and then eventually follows me out onto the porch.

  "I'm stuffed!" she announces.

  "Me too," I lie. I could barely manage half of my plate, and it didn't go unnoticed.

  "What ya' doing out here?" She sits on the porch swing behind me. I can feel her eyes burning into the back of my head as I sit on the steps leading down to the drive.

  "Just making the most of the fresh air. It's not the same where we live."

  I often sit out here after dinner, savoring the sweetness for when I am cooped up at home. The air is fresh and the breeze carries the fragrance from the nearby wildflowers.

  “Air’s air, Mickey.”

  “No, it’s sweeter here. Healthier. Can’t you feel it?”

  "Are you drunk?"

  I chuckle for the first time today. “No.”

  “Are you a member of the Walton’s family?”