Forget Me (Hampton Harbor)

by Jess Petosa

  "Are you calling me old?" I say in mock horror.

  Will holds up his hands defensively. "No, you are just more matured than a sixteen year old."

  I raise an eyebrow. "Oh really?"

  He laughs. "In more ways than just physically."

  "So, Mr. Davey, did you sneak around the marina like a frisky teenager?"

  For one of the first times since I've met him, Will seems embarrassed.

  "Sorry, that was a really bold question." I try to recover. "Hey, for all we know I had some frisky teenage years."

  Will's jaw clenches and he watches me closely for a moment. He reaches out to grab my hand in his. "Follow me."

  We are hurrying away from the sailboat and back into the shadow of the yachts. He makes a turn down a side dock and stops in front of an average sized yacht with maroon streaks running along the side.

  ANNA is written on the side in a black script.

  Will removes a large key ring from his pocket, one adorned with dozens of keys of different shapes and sizes.

  "What are you doing?" I whisper yell at him when he kneels down and starts to unlock the ramp that is tightly secured to the dock. He bends it up and onto the side of the ship, where it latches perfectly to a lower walkway. There is a small door there, one that presumably leads into the yacht.

  Will looks at me. "What? I have keys to all the boats in the marina."

  I look in either direction a few times. "Will," I whisper yell again. "You're going to get us in trouble."

  "I know the owner of the docks, I think we're good."

  Will rolls his eyes and steps across the ramp. He leans against the side of the boat and crosses his arms over his chest, waiting.

  I stare him down, pretty set on not giving in.

  He unlocks the door and pushes it open, bringing his eyes back to mine.

  I think about telling him off when I hear voices moving down the dock.

  "Ben's yacht is soooo stuffy tonight," a woman says. "And did you see the size of the rock on Marla's finger?"

  I don't hear the rest of the conversation because I am across the ramp and through the door in less than five seconds. Will follows me and pulls the door closed behind him, enveloping us in darkness. He steps further into the room and sensor lights pop on along the floor, making small paths around the room.

  "This way," he whispers as he takes my hand.

  He pulls me down a hallway to the side and I barely have time to take in my surroundings. I'm not sure if I've ever been in a yacht before, but I know they are built for luxury. We ascend a small staircase and pass through a door that leads to the main deck.

  "Will, you are so..."

  I hesitate as I think up an insult and Will takes the pause in conversation to his advantage. He pulls me close and presses his lips to mine, silencing any ill thoughts I previously had of him. I draw closer to him, wrapping my hands around his waist and settle them on his back. His hands travel over my shoulders and into my hair, and then back down again. I am overly aware that my body is pressing against every inch of his, and that his lips have moved from my mouth and are trailing down my jaw line and to my ear.

  A woman giggles nearby and I push away from him. We are both breathing heavily, and I have trouble pulling my eyes from his. I tiptoe to the side of the boat and look down. I think I see the silhouette of a couple but the boat casts the dock in deep shadows here.

  I turn on Will. "What if we get caught?" I whisper. "Oh my gosh, can you imagine what would happen if they took me to the police station. What's your name? What about an address? Can I see some ID?"

  I can hear the panic rising in my own voice and Will steps forward, putting one hand over my mouth.

  "Jane, calm down." He pulls his phone from his pocket and uses his finger to scroll through it for a moment. He turns it and holds it up so that I can see. There is a picture of a family in front of a yacht.

  The Anna!

  As I look closer I recognize Will. There is an older couple, a man with Will's thick hair and a woman with Will's eyes and smile. There is an older version of Will standing with them as well, his arms wrapped around a pretty girl. A younger boy is standing in front of Will, his looks are more similar to the older man, but he has the older woman's light hair.

  "This is your boat?" I ask.

  "Well, my parents’ boat." He puts the phone back in his pocket.

  "Anna is..."

  "My mom," he finishes for me.

  "You could have told me." I put my hand over my heart. It is still beating rapidly.

  "Sorry." Will's expression is full of remorse. "I didn't know it would freak you out."

  I work to control my breathing and look out over the water. The sun has dipped below the horizon and stars are dotting the sky. I lean my head back, feeling the tip of my ponytail graze against my back.

  “What are you afraid will happen?” Will asks.

  I shrug. “I don’t know.”

  “No one is going to blame you for your reaction to losing your memories,” Will says. “It isn’t illegal or anything.”

  I close my eyes. “I guess you’re right. With out my memories I feel extra anxious…. and afraid.”

  I feel Will’s arms snake around my waist and he sets his chin on the top of my head.

  “You have nothing to fear with me,” he whispers.

  My heart beats rapidly in my chest and I decide to change the subject.

  “Do you sneak girls onto your parents boat often?” I ask.

  Will chuckles and moves to stand beside me. "Once, in high school, I threw a crazy after prom party on this boat. I'm not sure why I thought I wouldn't get caught, considering how much noise was coming out of the boat, but it was a good three or four hours before someone realized we weren't having just another dinner party. It took me three straight days to clean the entire boat, and my parents had to replace the carpet in two of the bedrooms."

  I glance at him. "Do I want to know?"

  He continues to look up at the sky. "Probably not."

  I laugh and he does as well, finally tearing his gaze from the stars. "So about tonight," he starts. "I was thinking we could catch a midnight movie in town. They only offer them on Saturday nights."

  I nod my head. "That sounds... normal."

  Will brings his hand to his chest. "Should I be offended?"

  "Well," I say. "Considering on our first date I ended up running away, and our second date you whisked me away, by boat, to a sand bar, this sounds a little more expected. Normal sounds nice."

  Will smiles. "Well, I guess I can do normal tonight. I can't promise for the next date though."

  He offers me his arm and I take it. I don't say it, but I am just happy to be with him, normal or not. We walk out of the marina, up the ramp to the main street, and stop at an ice cream stand so that I can finally buy him the ice cream I owe him. He gets a chocolate cone and I follow suit, not really sure which flavor I like the best. We sit on a bench nearby and watch tourists pass by, commenting on where we think they are from. Thankfully, I still have an idea of our country’s fifty states, so I can play along. Finally, we make it to the theater and agree on a romantic comedy. When the lights dim and the previews start to roll on the big screen, Will reaches over and slips his hand into mine, lacing our fingers together.

  Yes, I am definitely happy to just be with him.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  "Jane. Wake up, Jane."

  I open my eyes slowly, blinded by a bright, golden light above me. It takes me a few minutes to realize that I am lying in the grass, under an old oak tree.

  "You drifted off while we were playing hide-and-go-seek," the voice says. "It's time to go home."

  I sit up slowly and look toward the voice. A pretty woman is leaning over me. She uses one hand to smooth the hair out of my face and then cups my cheek.

  "You're absolutely filthy. We'll have to clean you up before your father sees." She offers me her hand and I take it. I notice how small, and delicate my own
hand looks.

  The woman pulls me up and we start to walk. We are on a hill, looking out over fields of tall corn stalks. A little boy is running around at the base of the hill. A black and white dog nips at his feet.

  "School starts tomorrow, Jane," she says.

  My name sounds wrong coming from her mouth, and I realize that even though I hear the name Jane, her mouth forms a different word.

  "Robbie is in Kindergarten this year, so make sure you help him find his classroom and help him get on and off the bus alright." She pats my shoulder.

  My shoulder barely comes up to her hip and I look down. I'm wearing a dirty, yellow t-shirt, denim shorts, and pink jelly sandals.

  I'm a child.

  "Jane. Wake up, Jane."

  My eyes pop open and this time I'm back in my bedroom, or at least, my bedroom in Charles and Marie's home. Marie is peeking her head through the door, looking at me expectantly.

  "We need to get going," she says quickly, and then disappears.

  I try to wrap my mind around the dream. I close my eyes and run through it in my head, remembering every detail. Was it a memory? It felt so real and the woman seems so familiar. I climb out of bed, change, and comb the knots out of my hair. I slept with it down, and it brushes out into soft waves, so I leave it. It's so long.

  My appointment with Charles' friend in Bangor is today. Charles and Marie made good on their word and scheduled my appointment for as soon as possible. I’ve been busy since then; working and spending my free time with Will. We’ve gone back to the sandbar twice, seen a few movies, and spent a day at a beach on the south part of the island.

  By the time I get downstairs, Charles is already in the car and Marie is standing by the door with her purse. "I've toasted you a bagel to eat on the way. You were sleeping so soundly through your alarm earlier that I didn't want to wake you."

  I apologize and take the bagel, grabbing my purse from the hook by the door. I'm not ready to talk about the dream--or memory--just yet, so I sit in the back seat in silence as we drive off the island.

  "When will Will be back?" Charles asks.

  On Sunday evening, Will left to go on a boating trip with some of the investors for the marina. He told me that he, his father, and his older brother try to do this a few times a year, to bring a more personal side to the business end of the company. He would also be celebrating his birthday while on the trip, which I was bummed about at first, but we have plans to celebrate it tomorrow.

  "In two days,” I say.

  “The same day we leave for our trip," Charles observes.

  Before my accident, and before I came and rearranged their lives, Charles and Marie had planned a trip to see Marie’s sister in Florida. I begged and pleaded with them not to cancel it on my account, and they agreed to still go.

  Marie turns in her seat and smiles at me. I was finally able to fill her in on my dates with Will and she gushed on and on about young love and how well we were made for each other. I pointed out the same fears that Will had on our first date, and Marie waved them away.

  "I always believe that what is meant to be, will be," Marie told me. "I do not believe for one second that you stumbled upon us by accident."

  She sounds so sure of herself in that moment, and I grow minutely suspicious.

  Charles and Marie talk the whole way to Bangor, and I vaguely listen to their conversation. They talk about their upcoming trip to Florida and everything they want to see while they are there. They talk about the cafe and how things are going on the business end of things. Charles talks about his recent games of golf with his fellow retired colleagues. When we finally pull into the parking garage at the hospital, I sigh with relief. It's almost over.

  My stomach feels as though it was dragged the whole way here, and my toes and fingers tingle enough that they feel numb. I follow Charles and Marie through the parking garage and into a door on the second level.

  "You'll love Dr. Morgan," Marie tells me. "He has been doing this for years and years. He is going to retire in the Fall."

  We turn down hallway after hallway, finally stopping in front of a set of elevators. We stop on the fourth floor and exit into another hallway. Charles leads us through a door at the end, and we are greeted by a receptionist. Her nametag tells me that her name is Helen and the sign in front of the desk says Phillip Morgan M.D.

  "Good morning, Dr. Albright," Helen chirps happily. "Dr. Morgan is expecting you right away. You can see yourself back."

  Charles nods and we follow another hall to a large door at the end, which leads to Dr. Morgan’s office. That is the first time I've heard anyone call Charles something so formal. Even at the cafe, the regulars call him by his first name.

  He knocks on the door and a male voice calls for us to come in. We enter into his office, which is large and decorated with modern taste. His desk, the shelves, and even the chairs, are all made from a sleek, black material. The carpet is silver, as are the window treatments and decorative pillows. Several framed certificates hang on the wall, along with some portraits. I recognize Charles in a few of the pictures.

  There are three seats in front of his desk, and we each take one. I sit between Charles and Marie, and the arrangement makes me feel as small as the child in my dream.

  "I'm pleased to meet you, Jane," Dr. Morgan says. "Charles and Marie have had such good things to say about you."

  "Its nice to meet you too. So, they've told you about my situation? I look up at him.

  He is a kind looking man, with a well-wrinkled face and salt and pepper hair. His brown eyes are almond shaped, and even though he is seated, I can tell that he is a short man.

  "Yes, they have," he responds. "And while I may not agree with Charles methods, I trust him."

  I don't completely follow his train of thought but I just nod.

  "I'll take you back to an exam room, if that is okay with you. Charles and Marie can wait here."

  I nod and stand. Dr. Morgan pats Charles on the shoulder.

  "Try not to eat all the Rolos out of my dish, Charles." The men both laugh and I shift uncomfortably.

  Dr. Morgan grabs a chart from a file holder attached to the back of his door, and he leads me back down the hall that led us to his office. We go into an empty exam room, and I find that it is designed similarly to his office. He sits in a rolling chair by a small desk and I shimmy up onto the paper covered exam table.

  "Before we start I have a few questions." He looks at a blank chart in his hands. "Normally I do all this on the computer but since you're a new patient, we will have to start a new record for you."

  I don't like the sound of having any of this recorded, but I don't want to subject Dr. Morgan to any malpractice.

  "Tell me what you remember from before the accident," he says.

  I shrug. "I don't remember anything."

  "Nothing?" He sounds skeptical. "Marie says you've managed to function quite normally since waking up. That would mean that you at least remember how to do everyday tasks."

  "Well, I guess so," I answer.

  "Do you know what this is called," he raises the clipboard.

  "A clipboard." I say the answer slowly, wondering if this is a trick.

  "So you do remember more simple things," he says.

  I nod. "I know what different types of boats are, I know that hot dogs taste good with mustard on them and that planes fly in the sky. I know how to pour myself cereal in the morning and how to read a book. I know that I'm supposed to shampoo and condition my hair, and that I should get the split ends cut." I hold up the ends of my hair as if to prove a point.

  Dr. Morgan looks inquisitive. "So you seem to know a good deal of information, except for anything that has to do with you personally."

  "I don't remember my name, where I am from, if I have parents, siblings, or even a boyfriend. I don't know what I did for work before this. I don't even know how old I am." My voice cracks slightly at the end. "I don't even recognize my own face when I look in the mirror.
I've taken to avoiding my own reflection when I'm in the bathroom or getting ready."

  Dr. Morgan nods and makes some notes. "Sometimes, with amnesia patients, we find that the brain shuts out the darkest and most painful memories when faced with a traumatic event. For you, the traumatic event was hitting your head on the dock. Charles and Marie say that you were running when it happened. Do you think maybe you were running from someone else?"

  I stare at him with an open mouth and shrug. "I don't know."

  "Have you had any flashes of images recently, or maybe a dream that may have elicited some familiar things," he asks.

  "I had a dream last night," I tell him. "I can still remember it vividly." I recount the details to him.

  "So these people and this place seemed familiar?" he asks.

  "Very, especially the woman. It was like I was looking at parts of myself, except older." I tell him.

  Dr. Morgan nods. "So maybe your mother." He makes another note on the chart. "Sometimes memories start to come back in an odd order. It may start with a memory from when you are young, which is why you felt so short in your dream, and then something recent will flash into your mind. The fact that you remembered something this morning is a good sign. It will start slow but you should start to recall more over the next few weeks."

  "So you do think that was a memory?" I ask.

  "I think the fact that it feels familiar, and that you remember every detail, means yes. You aren't recalling a dream, Jane. The memory has been in your mind all along, and it is just now making itself known. Since you don't have any other memories right now, it will feel very vivid and very recent for a while. The more and more memories that return, the more jumbled they'll feel."

  He sets his chart down and stands up to wash his hands. "I'll take your vitals, and then my nurse will come in and we'll run a few other tests. Hopefully in a few days we'll have some more answers for you."

  Dr. Morgan takes my blood pressure and looks in my ears, nose, and throat. He checks my reflexes and presses on my lower stomach a few times. He calls for a nurse and a older woman comes into the room, carrying a tray of medical instruments. She takes six vials of blood and then brings me into the hall, where we check my eyesight, weight, and height. The whole exam takes less than thirty minutes, and soon we are back in Dr. Morgan's office.