Forget Me (Hampton Harbor)

by Jess Petosa

  "I think Jane is making great progress," he tells Charles and Marie. I notice that he doesn't tell them about my memory from this morning. "I would recommend that you stay away from anything mind altering, at this point in time. Alcohol, recreational drugs, and so on."

  I feel my cheeks turn pink and I slink in my chair a little. I feel like a child being lectured, once again.

  "Not a problem," I respond hastily.

  Charles and Dr. Morgan shake hands and Marie gives the doctor a hug goodbye. We are out of the office, into the parking garage, and seated in the car before I can take a deep breath. The exam wasn't as bad as I thought, but now I have something new to worry about. In a few days Dr. Morgan will be calling with my results, and I may learn something that I am just not ready to hear.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  The fourth of July, and Will’s birthday, passes us by. The staff from the Grace Cafe came to Charles and Marie’s for cookout, and afterward we all drove to the pubic beach for the fireworks show. There will be one every night until Sunday but most of us will be working right through those.

  Now it's Thursday and I am one big bundle of nerves.

  Bad nerves over waiting for Dr. Morgan to call.

  Good nerves because Will comes home today.

  I've had some time to think over the past two days, and the possibilities that keep running through my head are driving me crazy. To make matters worse, Will is still on his fishing trip. With each day that he’s been gone, I've felt more of a longing to be near him. Today, the butterflies I feel in anticipation of his return are growing rowdier with each hour. Is it really fair for me to feel this way about Will? Is it fair to him?

  I feel as though I understand a thing or two about first love. How easy it is to fall head over heels and fast. For all intents and purposes, this is my first love. I highly doubt it’s Will's, and therefore I find that the stakes are higher. I can easily end up making a fool of myself here, and I’m not sure what to do. At this point, my memory loss can act as a buffer in our relationship. Not that I want to be playing any handicap cards, but it is an advantage that I can use if the opportunity arises.

  I'm sitting at the kitchen table, my fingers tapping feverishly on the wood grain. I painted my nails pink last night, and the color seems bright against the dark, olive tone of my skin.

  Charles and Marie are probably boarding a plane to Florida any minute, which means I have the house to myself for the next five days.

  The phone rings and I jump, nearly knocking my chair over. I hurry across the kitchen and grab the portable phone.

  "Hello?" I draw out the word.

  "Jane, this is Dr. Morgan."

  Painful chills run up my spine. "Oh, hi Dr. Morgan."

  "Your blood work is back from the lab," he tells me. "I'd like for you to come in so that we can discuss the results."

  I close my eyes. "You can't tell me over the phone?"

  There’s a pause.

  "I think it would be better if we met in person," he responds.

  I exhale loudly. "Charles and Marie left for their trip already, so I can come once they are back. Does sometime next week work?"

  "I really think we should meet sooner, Jane." Dr. Morgan says. "Don't you want to know?"

  Know what? I am thinking.

  "I don't really have any other way of getting to Bangor, and I think Charles and Marie would like to come with me. They come home on Wednesday so maybe we could come up there on Thursday," I say.

  Dr. Morgan sighs. "Very well. We will see you then. And Jane..."

  "Yes?"

  "I meant what I said, about staying away from alcohol and drugs."

  "I know," I respond.

  I hang up the phone and lean against the wall, teetering between feeling frightened and annoyed. Why does Dr. Morgan think he can sit around and lecture me about alcohol and drugs? Maybe he saw something in my blood work that shows cause for concern.

  Oh God. What if I'm a junkie?

  I’ve bought myself a week. On one hand, I want to know what Dr. Morgan has to say. It could be as simple as telling me my blood type and that I have a clean bill of health or maybe I have some minor, underlying issues, like allergies. If he thought my life was in danger, surely he would have told me over the phone.

  Right?

  Just as I step away from the wall the phone rings again. I reach for it slowly, sure that Dr. Morgan is calling back to tell me the news cannot wait. Or that he himself will come pick me up for my appointment. Sure, I could take a bus, or maybe Amy or Will could drive me, but I don't want to tell him that.

  "Hello?" I answer the phone.

  "Hey," says a deep voice that sends the good kind of chills up my spine.

  "Will," I breathe his name.

  "Guess who will be pulling into the dock in t-minus one hour?" he asks.

  I smile into the mouthpiece of the phone. "I'll meet you there."

  Forty-five minutes later, I'm sitting on a bench just outside of the entrance to the marina. I barely waited a minute before calling a dispatcher and running to catch a bus into town. My ponytail, denim shorts, and pink tank top are a testament to that. I have my hands placed on either side of me, and I'm swinging my legs back and forth underneath the bench. Several ships are pulling into the docks, one after another, while others are coasting out to sea.

  I see Will before he sees me. He is walking up the dock, pulling a large cooler behind him. Several older men surround him, and I perk up when I recognize two of them. Will went on the trip with his dad and brother, and I realize that by arriving early I will have to meet them. Maybe Will didn't want me here early; maybe he told me an hour hoping that I would show up late. I stand slowly, prepared to make a run for the cafe, when Will's eyes find mine. A large smile lights up his face and he throws his free arm in the air, waving enthusiastically.

  I smooth down my shorts and push any stray hairs behind my ears. I meet their group at the end of the dock, and Will's dad says good-bye to the group of men traveling with them. When everyone except Will, his dad, and his brother, has left, Will drops the cooler and steps to my side.

  "Dad, James. This is Jane." He acts so casual whereas I feel so inept.

  His dad steps forward first, extending his hand to me. "It's nice to meet you, Jane. Will tells me that you'll be joining us for dinner tomorrow night."

  "Nice to meet you too, Mr. Davey," I say. I blank on what to say about dinner but his brother saves me.

  "James," he says as he holds out his hand, and I shake it firmly. "It's nice to finally meet the girl that my brother can't stop talking about."

  I just smile, trying to relax, but my nerves are buzzing around my body like angry bees. Will gives his brother's arm a playful punch.

  "Can you take the cooler up to the office?" Will asks James.

  James nods and he and Mr. Davey disappear into the small crowd walking the boardwalk.

  I turn to Will and raise my eyebrows.

  "Dinner?" I squeak.

  He gives me a tentative smile and rubs the back of his neck with one hand. "My dad mentioned wanting to meet you, and I said that I would bring you to family dinner tomorrow night. I guess I kind of agreed before asking. My parents want to celebrate my birthday, too."

  I nod slowly and he frowns.

  "Do you not want to come? I can cancel, and come up with an excuse. I should have called you first..."

  I take his hand in mine and shake my head. "No, it's not that. It's just, meeting the family...." I trail off.

  "Walk with me?" Will laces his fingers through mine and pulls me gently.

  I think we’re going to walk the boardwalk but instead he pulls me back toward the marina. We end up on Dock C, which holds speedboats and fishing boats; none of the large, towering yachts. We are silent as we walk to the end of the dock, and my mind is racing with the possibilities.

  Will wants me to meet his family. His parents!

  The wind is warm as it whips through the boats, picking up my t
hin ponytail and blowing it over my shoulder. We reach the end of the dock and sit down at the edge. The tide is high and I pull off my sandals so that I can dip my toes in the cool water.

  "I really want you to come to dinner and meet my family." Will is the first to talk.

  I peer over at him and have to cup a hand over my eyes. I immediately wish my sunglasses hadn't sunk to the bottom of the bay. "I'll come."

  Will looks relieved. "Really? For a second I thought you were going to bolt."

  "I'm not afraid to meet your family, Will," I say honestly. "I’m more shocked that you want me to meet them."

  Will looks down at our hands. His fingers are still laced through mine. "Why wouldn't I?"

  "It’s an important step, right?" I say. "I thought we weren't going to take this so seriously, because of my condition."

  Will brings my hand up to his mouth and kisses it. Light flames trail down to my wrist.

  He smiles. "I'm not trying to rush anything, Jane. I've had enough relationships to know how true my feelings are for you, and at this point, I'm tried of waiting. Even if moving so fast isn't wise given your condition, I just can't bring myself to worry about that anymore."

  My heart pounds as his words register in my brain, but I shoot him a teasing look. "Enough relationships, huh?"

  He purses his lips. "You know what I mean."

  I push him playfully. "Yeah, lucky for you or you might be diving head first off the dock."

  "I would take you right along with me." He shoots me a wicked grin.

  "If you could catch me," I whisper in his ear before I spring up. He reaches for me but I hop away from his grasp.

  He jumps up and points to a sign behind my head. "No running on the docks."

  I smirk. "I'm a fast walker."

  I take off at a speed walk down the dock, and he is on me in just a few strides, grabbing me around the waist and spinning me into the air. He catches me below the knees and back, cradling me to his body.

  "All talk," he says. "I expected a bigger challenge."

  I grin and then shrug against his shoulder. "Maybe I wanted you to catch me."

  I reach my hand up around his neck and pull his head toward mine. Our lips meet in the middle and I melt into him.

  When we pull apart, Will's eyes have grown darker. Not with anger, but something else. His voice is raspy when he speaks.

  "Well played, Jane. Well played."

  He carries me out of the marina, and I giggle and plead with him to put me down. I spot a few people on the boardwalk glancing over at us, and a few girls giving me envious glares. It feels good, in an odd way, to have girls look at me that way. It means that I have something—someone—worth holding onto.

  “What do you want to do tonight?” Will asks me after he finally sets me on my feet.

  “Dinner,” I say just as my stomach rumbles. We both laugh. “And then maybe we can walk the boardwalk and scrutinize this week’s influx of tourists.” I look out over the water. “Plus, there is another fireworks show. I don’t think I’ll ever tire of fireworks.”

  Will nods. “Food, tourists, and fireworks.”

  I wrap my arms around his chest and grin up at him. “Cheese ravioli?”

  He smiles down at me. “I’m in.”

  We leave the boardwalk hand in hand and I can’t help but look over my shoulder and wink at the girls still glaring, as if to say, He’s all mine ladies.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  The next morning Will picks me up at eleven. Because we’ll be having dinner with his family tonight, we decide to pack a picnic lunch and hike one of the trails through Acadia National Park. We didn’t get to celebrate his birthday since he was on a fishing trip, and when I asked him what he wanted to do today, he told me he wanted to take me on a hike. He drives away from town and pulls into one of the small, dirt parking lots that sit at the beginning of the hiking trails.

  We are both dressed for the occasion: athletic shorts, tank tops, and a thick layer of sunscreen. The air is already thick and humid, which means by the time we finish our hike, we’ll both be sweaty messes.

  Will is carrying the large backpack that holds our lunch, and I’m in charge of the water bottles.

  “Ready?” he asks.

  “I’m really hoping that I was athletic prior to the accident,” I tell him. “I’d like to be able to walk up to your parents’ house tonight, rather than needing you to carry me.”

  Will laughs. “I’m sure you’ll do fine. I see some muscle in those thighs.”

  “Are you checking out my legs, William?” I smirk.

  “Several times a day,” he admits. He has to duck to avoid the swing of my water bottle.

  “So how long is the trail again?” I ask.

  I’ve been in Hampton Harbor for a month but I haven’t wandered into the National Park just yet. I know it’s huge, and I know that it draws tourists from around the world, but something about it gives me reservations. Maybe I feel so lost in my own mind that I don’t want to chance getting lost in the woods.

  “Three miles,” Will responds. “Each way.”

  I groan.

  “I’ll carry you if you get tired. Weakling.”

  “Maybe I’ll have to carry you,” I retort.

  “I won’t complain,” Will says with a wink.

  He leads me to the beginning of the trail and reaches for my hand. “Might as well hold it now before we are both sweaty and too disgusted to touch each other.”

  I smile and lace my fingers through his, stepping beside him on the trail.

  We pass several people early on, and even cross over a few bike and running paths. I can pick out the tourists easily, with the heavy cameras around their necks and the fanny packs around their waists. Excited parents hike across the trail, while bored and grumbling pre-teens follow behind. We pass a group of local high school students, all carrying large backpacks and rambling on about a campsite.

  It takes us an hour to reach the end of the trail, and when we finally break free of the trees, we come to a cliff overlooking the bay.

  “Whoa,” I say out loud.

  “Amazing, isn’t it?” Will asks.

  I wipe at the sweat dripping down my forehead. “I’ve never thought about looking down on the bay from up here, and I wish I’d done this sooner.”

  “There’s the marina,” Will says while pointing.

  I can make out Davey & Sons Boating from here, and my eyes trail down to where I know the cafe is. Everything looks so small from up here. I look out over the bay and I can see the mainland stretching out to the north. I even spot a few small islands dotting the water. I can see where the bay lets out into the ocean, and from there the water is endless.

  “Come this way.” Will takes my hand, even though it is slippery with sweat.

  We follow the path around to a flat outcropping of rocks. Will pulls a blanket from the backpack and sets it down. We both sit and chug water from our bottles. I drop the empty bottle onto the blanket and reach into the bag. I made some calls the previous night, and snuck into town this morning to gather the food I wanted for our lunch.

  I pull out the first container, which is still warm from the insulated cooler I borrowed from the restaurant.

  “Cheese ravioli from Amore.” I set the container on the blanket. “And grilled cheese and chili from the cafe.”

  “It’s like you know me or something,” Will says.

  “You are a creature of habit,” I tell him. “Thank God you don’t order something different every time we eat out.”

  “Like you?” He says with a grin.

  “I like options,” I retort. Then I lean across the blanket and press my lips to his, letting the kiss linger.

  We dig into the food, and it isn’t long before it is all gone. Hiking so far left us famished. A few other hikers wander up to the cliff, and one is carrying climbing gear. I pull my gaze from the view and look around the open area. There are small piles of rocks scattered about, all stacked in towe
rs. I know they could haven’t formed like that.

  “Why are those rocks like that?” I ask.

  Will follows my line of sight. “I’m not sure how they started. It feels like they’ve always been here. Tourists and locals add to them, or start new ones, when they’re up here. I guess it is a way of making a signature. Saying that you were here. Some people leave rocks in memory of lost loved ones.”

  I wipe my hands on my shorts and stand up. I find a flat, circular rock and walk over to the rock piles, looking for the perfect place to put mine. I find one and set it atop, careful not to knock the tower over. I head back to the blanket and sit down.

  “Now I’ve been here too,” I say.

  And I’ve set a stone in memory of whoever I used to be.

  Will doesn’t speak for a moment, just watches me. I’m back to looking out over the bay, but I can feel his eyes on me.

  “Ready to head back?” he asks after a little while. “I figure we should both probably wash up before dinner with my family, and by the time we get down the trail and out of the park, it will be past two.”