Forget Me (Hampton Harbor)

by Jess Petosa

  I can feel the Melissa part of me coming to life as I enter the room. The walls are painted a slate blue, and the room is filled with beautiful, espresso furniture. The bed is high off the ground, and covered in a cream colored comforter. The space is neat and organized, something I know I appreciate and can appreciate Jason keeping up with. The room makes me feel better than I have since boarding the plane, and I lean against the wall for a few moments before stepping into the bathroom. I shower quickly and dry my hair with a hair dryer I find under the sink. Signs of Melissa are everywhere. Hair products, bobby pins, floral lotions, and even a hot curler set. All things I left behind when I went to Maine.

  I go to reach for my black duffle but I stop. This is my room. It’s full of my belongings. I wrap the towel around me tightly and step toward the dresser, pulling the top right drawer open. I find underwear and a bra, and move on to the closet, finding a pair of khaki sorts and a ruffled tank top. The tank top is white, and the tan I've earned while in Maine appears darker against the color. I dig a pair of flip-flops out of a bin on the floor and hurry downstairs.

  Jason is leaning against the kitchen counter, a phone pressed to his ear. He holds up one finger and smiles.

  "Yeah, I'll have to ask her. I'll have her call you..." he looks at me. "Or maybe I'll call you later."

  He hangs up his phone and puts it in his pocket. "That was Beth."

  He waits to see if I recall the name, an action I can appreciate. It is nice to be given the chance to remember, whereas my mom wants to ship me off to a facility and have my memories pulled out of me.

  "Beth," I repeat the name. "My best friend?" I say as a question.

  Jason nods. "The troublesome twosome."

  My high school memories build on themselves, and now there is a tall girl with bright blonde hair and a sassy attitude. I met her my freshman year, the year she moved into town. We’ve been best friends ever since.

  "She's been worried about you," Jason says. A smirk fills his face before he speaks again. "She says that you need to get your ass over to her place and explain where you've been."

  I can't help but smile too, knowing that is just what I would expect her to say.

  "Are you ready to go?" Jason says as he grabs his keys from a bowl on the counter.

  I pat my sides, feeling empty-handed. "I dropped my purse in the ocean during my accident. I don't have a phone, or wallet, or any of that."

  It feels weird to explain that to him. In Hampton Harbor it didn't seem to matter. I was able to get where I needed to go with the bus, and pay for the small amount of items I needed with my tip money. A cell phone hadn’t even felt necessary. Otherwise Charles and Marie took care of me.

  "Well it’s a good thing we're married." He holds up his wallet. "And that anyone who would call you, you wouldn't know anyway."

  The joke hits in the right place and I laugh. The sound puts a wide grin on Jason's face and he steps to my side, offering me his arm.

  "Right this way."

  We drive a block or two and park on a side street. We could have walked the distance since we live right in town. As we move down the sidewalk, I'm finding that I recognize the shops and can even picture their owners. We reach the restaurant and I look at the sign over the door.

  Clinton Hills Corner Diner.

  Jason holds the door open for me and I step into the well air-conditioned entryway. A sign asks us to seat ourselves. Jason takes my hand casually and walks to the left side of the diner. Several heads turn as we pass and I hear whispers of my name as we go. We stop at a booth in the back corner and I choose to sit in the side with the cracked vinyl.

  "Do we come here often?" I ask.

  "We did," he says softly. I notice that his fingers are rubbing over something carved into the table. I take a closer look.

  "J and M, Forever," I read the fading letters and look up. Jason's green eyes meet mine. "Jason and Melissa."

  He looks down at the lettering. “You carved that into the table before senior prom.”

  A round, busty waitress comes up to our table.

  "Been awhile, you two. The usual?" she says.

  Jason looks at me and I just shrug. "Sure."

  When the waitress leaves I lean over the table. "What’s my usual?"

  Jason sits back. "Maybe I should let you be surprised."

  "Fair enough," I say.

  Our waitress returns with two large glasses. Orange juice for Jason and a diet soda for me.

  I drink soda this early?

  "I'm just going to throw this question out there, because I can't stop thinking about it." I pick up a packet of sugar and fiddle with it nervously. "I got pregnant, right?"

  Jason's expression doesn't change as he nods his head. He watches me carefully.

  "I remember the night I found out, and how you wanted me to get rid of the baby."

  He flinches at my words and finally breaks eye contact, looking down at the table.

  "What happened after that?" I ask.

  I think of the memory now, of me on his bed while he stroked my hair and told me that everything would be okay. Was it? Is it?

  "We gave him up for adoption," he finally says. He takes out his wallet and opens it, pulling a business card size picture from one of the sleeves. "He's five now. He lives with a nice couple in the suburbs of Chicago, and they've adopted another baby since then."

  He sets the picture on the table and slides it toward me.

  The little boy in the picture has Jason's blond hairs and square jaw, but the rest is all me. Dark blue eyes, a small nose, big lips, and a heart-shaped face.

  The picture blurs as tears fill my eyes. I push it back toward Jason.

  "Ethan." I say his name for the first time since my accident.

  "Ethan," Jason murmurs. "Your mom wanted you to have an abortion. You called me one morning in tears, saying that she had tricked you into a drive and that she was dragging you into the clinic. They couldn't have forced an abortion on you anyway, but I remember driving there and sprinting into the building. A security guard had to subdue Grace while I carried you from the building."

  "I was screaming every profanity I could think of," I finish for him.

  He nods and I can see the pain in his eyes. "You stayed at my house for the rest of the summer and then went right back to the dorms at school."

  I can see it all now, as though I am watching an old movie play back in my head.

  "Grace told me if I wanted her to pay for my education, I had to start talking to her again. She decided she could spin the adoption in her favor." I take a long sip of diet soda from my straw. "She told me that I had to break up with you."

  "But you wouldn't," he fills in.

  I continue, "So she said we needed to get married. Meanwhile I took classes, albeit huge and pregnant by spring semester. I had him over spring break and only took two weeks off before returning to class."

  "We had a long engagement, and married the next summer, just before our senior year of college,” Jason adds.

  "We lived in a tiny, off campus apartment while we finished school." I say softly.

  I grip the edge of the table and close my eyes. I feel Jason’s light touch on my arm.

  "Maybe we should move slower," he says and I'm nodding my head in agreement.

  Thankfully our waitress comes wobbling toward us, carrying a tray. She sets a plate of fried eggs, pancakes, and bacon in front of Jason. She grabs another plate and sets it in front of me, and my heart sinks. I stare at the meal in front of me, trying to think of anything I can say. I grasp for some sort of normal reaction.

  Jason laughs and I look up at him. "I think this is the only time I've ever seen you stare at your breakfast with the same concern I did when we first met."

  I lick my dry lips.

  Jason takes a sip of orange juice. "You always said you could eat it..."

  "Morning, noon, and night." I finish for him.

  I'm not staring at my plate because of the memories it
brings back of Melissa, or the oddness of the meal in front of me.

  I'm staring at it because it reminds me of Jane. It reminds me of a small boating town in Maine with a kind old couple, a bayside cafe, and a handsome, dark haired guy that works at the marina.

  I pick up my fork and, with effort, dig into the plate of cheese ravioli.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  After our brunch, Jason drives me past our street and down to the elementary school. He pulls into the almost empty lot and parks in front of the playground. Three moms sit on a bench beside the bright blue equipment, two of them pushing strollers back and forth slowly. Several kids are chasing each other around the playground, all pre-school age.

  "So this is where I work?" I ask, even though I know the answer. The details past college are fuzzy, but I recognize the building to my left. Light orange brick and wide, rectangular windows. I can see odd shaped, colorful trees in one window and a Dr. Seuss book pops into my head.

  "You were hired straight out of college. You are good at what you do, so good," Jason says with emotion. "You've been here two years now."

  "I was a waitress," I say suddenly.

  Jason peers over at me, confusion covering his face. "Not that I've ever known..."

  He doesn't realize that I’m suddenly speaking about my time in Hampton Harbor, not my lost memories. I'm talking about my new ones, the ones that are the newest.

  "In Hampton Harbor," I add to make things more clear. "I was a waitress, in my grandparents cafe. It’s right on the water, with wind chimes and seagulls and all. We should go there sometime. To visit Charles and Marie, you know?"

  Jason seems uncomfortable. I can't read him well enough to understand why.

  "I always went home smelling like the fish of the day, and with a layer of salt on my skin." I'm not sure why I'm speaking these things now. I don't know if it’s out of selfishness, or if I want Jason to know where I've been.

  "Did I ever talk about my grandparents?" I ask him when he doesn't respond.

  Jason is looking past the windshield now, watching the kids play.

  "Not really," he finally says. "You told me how much your mom hated her parents, and how you weren't allowed to visit them anymore. You said the same things then, you know. You said when you were little you loved the wind chimes and the seagulls."

  "Is that why I went back there?" I ask without thinking.

  I can see Jason's jaw working, and a vein on his neck makes an appearance. I know that he holds the answers to why I ended up in Maine, but I also sense that he isn't ready to share them just yet, and maybe I'm not ready to hear them. I decide to change the topic.

  "Show me where you work," I say.

  I watch him visibly relax as he starts the car and backs out of the parking spot. The high school is just three blocks down the street. It is built of the same light orange brick as the elementary school, but the windows are smaller and more confined, the outside not as welcoming. I doubt there are any colorful, pom like trees in these windows. Jason lets us into the athletic wing of the building and shows me the field house, the locker room, and finally his office. There isn't a soul in sight, and I'm glad that I don't have to meet anyone that I should know.

  His office is small, with a window that looks out into the field house. His desk is an organized mess, with stacks of papers neatly placed in a puzzle like formation on the top. His college diploma hangs on the wall, with a nice frame around it. There are a few sports awards on his desk, and some pictures with small groups of guys. Teammates from college, perhaps. I step to his desk and focus on a black frame that holds two vertical pictures. The picture on the left is of us, and I gather it’s from college. He’s wearing his team uniform, which is covered in red dirt from a game. My arms are around his neck and I'm hanging off his back. My cheek is placed close to his for the picture. The second is more recent. He is wearing a purple TIGERS uniform, but it is clean since he is coaching and not playing. I'm wearing a TIGERS shirt and though my arm is wrapped around his waist, I'm not standing as close and my smile isn't as big as it is in the first picture.

  The glass is missing from both pictures, and the frame is cracked.

  "It fell off my desk," Jason says quickly, as though he reads my thoughts. "Come on, I'll give you a tour of the town."

  We don't get back to the house until mid-afternoon. My brain feels full from all of the information I received today. I know that this is all just recall, and that I've known these things for most of my life, but the quick return of the information has been startling.

  Not for the first time I wonder…

  If I had just let Charles and Marie find my family from the start...

  The thought stops me cold in the entryway. Jason bangs into me from behind.

  They knew my family. It all would have been over in an instant. I never would have met Will. I never would have fallen in love with Hampton Harbor. I would have had my memories back sooner. I wouldn't spend countless minutes wondering about the what ifs.

  "Mel?" Jason says behind me.

  "I need a minute," I croak and take off up the stairs, running straight through the bedroom and into the bathroom. I sit on the toilet and put my head in my hands, taking deep breaths. When the room stops spinning I stand and look in the mirror, taking in my dark hair and red-rimmed eyes. Jane and Melissa in one.

  I know what I need to do. I need to make every effort to be in the now. To be in this life, the one I chose when I married Jason. I need to remind myself of why I’m with him, and I need to remember it all. It is going to be hard, but it will be necessary.

  I leave the bathroom and make my way back downstairs. Jason is in the kitchen, pouring himself a glass of water. He looks at me with a reserved look, as though I might break apart at any moment and it could easily be his fault.

  "Cancel the dinner with my mom tonight," I tell him.

  His mouth opens slightly. "What?"

  "I need you to cancel tomorrow’s dinner with my mom," I say again.

  "Mel, I'm not so sure..." he starts.

  I bring my hands up to the sides of my head. "Please, Jason. Please."

  "Okay," he says quickly. He sets his water on the counter. "What should I tell her?"

  I think for a moment, wondering what Melissa would say. I only have access to my thoughts and memories from college, nothing from the two years before the accident.

  "Tell her that I'll come over for dinner on my own time. When I'm ready."

  It’s the only way I can think of to say No, you are no longer in control of me. I’m not ready to hear her talk about my issues and tell me that she is going to hire doctors to fix me.

  "She isn't going to like this," Jason says as he pulls his cell phone from his pocket. I can see a small smile pulling up at the corner of his lips though.

  "Exactly," I say. "And after that, can you call Beth and ask her to come over."

  Beth arrives fifteen minutes later. She is a blur of blonde hair and bubble gum pink lips as she rushes through the door and wraps me in a hug.

  "Jason told me all about what happened to you. He called me after your mom left to pick you up in Maine." As Beth's voice drawls out, I recall that she moved here from Georgia and still boasts a southern accent.

  "I remember you," I say quickly. "Well, at least pieces of you."

  "Hopefully it's the good pieces," she jokes. "What do you need?"

  I love this question. She isn't spending time asking me what I know and don't know, and she isn't skirting around me like I'm fragile.

  "I want to cut my hair," I say simply.

  Beth grins but Jason steps forward, a frown on his face. "You love your long hair, Mel. Maybe you shouldn't make such a rash decision..."

  "She knows what she wants," Beth snaps at him with amazing sass.

  His eyebrows furrow as he glares at her, and she winks at me before grabbing my arm and pulling me toward the front door.

  Beth takes me to a salon in town. The salon is modern and colorf
ul on the inside. She demands that someone named Hannah makes room for me, and within ten minutes my hair is shampooed and I'm in a chair with a smock on.

  "What are we doing, hun?" Hannah asks.

  She is a tall, spindly girl, with short hair that is dyed platinum blonde and buzzed on one side of her head. She has tattoos running up her arms, and I see one poking out of the collar of her shirt.

  I peek in the mirror at my long hair, which is wavy and settles around my chest.

  "Shoulder length," I say.

  "That would probably be enough to donate," Hannah says as she measures with her comb.

  She pulls my hair into a ponytail and cuts off the length in one snip, setting it aside. Her scissors move around my head expertly, snipping at random pieces of hair. It all makes no sense to me but Beth is practically giddy and I’m starting to feel the same way. I only remember the Beth from the memories I have. I don't know what she does currently, or what we enjoy doing together. I remember how we both smoked our first cigarette together under the football bleachers. I remember how we teepee'd her boyfriend's house our junior year. I remember how we drank from her mom's liquor cabinet and passed out in the empty jacuzzi tub. It was all so long ago, but it feels fresher than that. Most of all, I remember that I can trust her, which is why I am with her right now.

  The cut and dry takes thirty-minutes, and I walk out of the salon with not only a new hairstyle but also a new outlook. Melissa and Jane were blending together with the old look, with the same hair and same sad eyes. I've already changed one; it is time to work on changing the other.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  It's been four days since I came home from Hampton Harbor.

  Four days of a new routine.

  Sleep on the couch, take walks around town, meet people I knew--know--, eat lunch with Jason, read books, try not to think about Will, focus on relearning cooking dinner, watch mindless TV, and go to sleep again.

  I've seen Beth a few times; for coffee, ice cream, and a shopping trip to the mall.

  Jason is back at work and very busy with his baseball camp. Or so he says.