Forget Me (Hampton Harbor) (22 page)

           
“Are
you upset with us?” she asked.

           
I
took a deep breath and pinched the bridge of my nose. “I’m just really
confused.”

           
I
heard a sniffle on the other end and knew that Marie was crying. I pictured her
dabbing at her eyes with a tissue.

           
“We
never wanted to hurt you,” she told me. “We wanted you to have the chance you
were looking for. We were so excited for you to visit and then you had the
accident.
 
We weren’t sure why you
woke up so confused, but once Charles decided you were most likely suffering
from amnesia, we decided it was best to let the situation carry out. Like I
told you a few days ago, you told us that you didn’t want to contact anyone
from your family just yet.”

           
“Did
you know where I lived? Did you know about Jason? My pregnancies?”

           
“We
knew where you were living. Your mother couldn’t hide where she settled with
you and Robbie all those years ago, but she made it quite clear we were not
welcome to visit. You have to realize, when she walked in the door to get you
on Friday, it was the first time I’d seen her in almost twenty years.”

           
She
paused to blow her nose and then continued.

           
“I
had no idea you’d gotten married, or had a baby. Any of that. I tried to
contact your mother at least once a year, but she always shut me out. She shut
out the rest of our family as well. So, do you really have a child?”

           
It
was hard, explaining to her what was so fresh for me as well. It was like we
were both learning it in a similar time frame. She cried with me and offered
words of comfort. I almost asked about Will but I couldn’t bring myself to
mention his name out loud.

           
She’d
made me promise to call once a week before she would hang up the phone.

I set down the book I'm reading, one from my personal collection,
and glance at the clock.

Four o'clock.

Jason will be home soon, and I'll disappear into the kitchen to
throw myself into busy work. I've taken to cooking elaborate dinners, since
they keep me from thinking. It's the same reason I read, watch TV, and get
myself caught in lengthy conversations with the shop owners in town. My mind
still isn't my own.

It’s a vicious mix of both Melissa and Jane. Of both Jason and
Will. Of both Hampton Harbor and Clinton Hills.

The
front door creaks open and I hear footsteps in the foyer. I turn and watch
Jason set his duffle bag on a bench along the front wall.

“Hey,”
he looks at me under the brim of his hat and my heart flutters. It’s an old
reaction, one I’m used to from my past memories. Now I can’t seem to relate to
the feeling, even though I’m trying.

Slowly,
he has helped me bring back memory after memory. The first two years of our
marriage is clearer to me now, but I can't seem to get anything out of him
about the last year. Normally when I ask him questions about our past he gives me
as many details as he can remember but when I bring up the past year, he skirts
around the answers and tells me he doesn't want to overload me. He is being so
kind to me though, and I’ve been so withdrawn.

“I’m
going to shower, and then I’ll be back down,” he tells me.

I nod
and head into the kitchen to delve into the cookbook I've left open. There is a
very lengthy recipe for stuffed rosemary pork chops and sour cream and chive
mashed potatoes. I start pulling ingredients from the fridge and pantry, and
pull out knives, and bowls, and cutting boards. I'm fifteen minutes in, dicing
through onion, when Jason finally reappears.

He is showered and fresh water droplets sit on the tips of his
blond hair. He is wearing jeans and a tight, black t-shirt and I decide he
looks good. For a split second I feel bad for finding him attractive, but then
I realize that I have every right to.  We’re married. Then I'm thinking
about Will, and the way water dripped down his long hair and onto his face and
shoulders. 

I turn away and go back to the cutting board, wondering if the
sudden sting of tears is from the onion or the fact that I miss Will.

"You know, as much as I love these gourmet meals, I feel the
need to tell you that you did
not
 cook
like this before," Jason tells me.

Before
.

That’s what we've come to call my life prior to the accident. The
Melissa
moments I'm starting to recall.

"It keeps me busy," I say honestly.

Jason clears his throat and shifts his weight back and forth
nervously. I can tell he wants to say something, but the words seem to be stuck
in his throat. I've felt the same way many times since waking up in Charles and
Marie's home. For that reason alone, I don't push him.

Jason is saved by his phone
. He frowns at the
number on the screen and puts it to his ear.

"Grace,” he says calmly. "I don't think that's... no.
No. I'll tell her."

He puts the phone back in his pocket, and he now has my full
attention. I set the paring knife down and look at him.

"Your mom is coming over. Now."

I scoop the onions into a small mixing bowl and reach for the
salt.

"I was wondering what took her so long." I find it
easier to speak as though I know her fully, since most of my memories are
filled with her. My anger and bitterness, and the small pieces of happiness,
which I have with her, are the most vivid.

I'm sautéing the onions in butter when my mom storms into the
house. She stands by the kitchen table, her arms crossed over her chest, and
her long painted nails tapping her arms. Her lips are a thin, straight line
colored by plum lipstick.

"Enough is enough, Melissa." Her voice is high and
squeaks slightly when she says my name. "It's time to stop ignoring your
family and start making an effort to get better. Robbie and Sarah drove all the
way from Chicago the other night to have dinner with you, and you decided to be
a no show. I had to reschedule all of your appointments in Chicago. You're
acting like a child."

"Am I?" I say as I pull the pan off the stove and scoop
the onions back into the bowl. "Or are you? You walk in
my
house and start demanding that I
listen to you. I’m an adult. You no longer get a say in what I do."

I can practically see the steam rolling off my mom. She taps her
foot now, and the rhythm matches her fingers.

"I see someone is sleeping on the couch. Is that you or
Jason?"

"That’s none of your business." I say.

She sighs. "What matters is that you aren't even sharing a
bed with your husband. Imagine what the girls would think."

I picture of a bunch of older women, sitting in my mom's living
room and sipping tea.

"I guess you'll have to come up with some story to tell them.
Although I doubt any of the
girls
 are
spending time in my living room." I raise an eyebrow at her.

Jason is leaning against the refrigerator, looking more unnerved
by the minute.

"He's your husband, Melissa!"

I slam the bowl on the counter. "I'm trying. I'm trying
really hard." I'm nearly shouting now. "And Jason has been helping
me. Beth too."

My mom sneers at the mention of Beth.

"I'm taking it at a pace I can handle," I say more quietly.

"Maybe you need to push yourself, make yourself do some
uncomfortable things to recover quicker," my mom says. "Spend a night
with your husband..."

I open my mouth to tell her off but Jason speaks first.

"Grace..." his voice is a growl. A warning.

"I think you should go," I say.

"I..." she starts.

"Let me rephrase that," I say to her. "You
need
 to go."

My mom looks at me, her eyes narrowing. 

"Fine, I'll go," I say. 

I wipe my hands on a towel and leave the unfinished dinner
ingredients all over the counter. I walk past my mom and out the back door,
using the side path to reach the front yard. I follow the sidewalk to town, and
walk straight through town, slightly aware that I have flour on my clothes and
most likely my face as well. I pass through town and come to a small park
nestled between a set of old homes. The trees are tall and thick, sheltering
the swings, slide, and paths from the sun. I almost stop but then decide to
keep walking, not really sure where I'm going.

I walk past the town limits and by several corn and soy fields.
Eventually I come to a bridge, and my feet carry me off the road and down an
old dirt path. There is a concrete shelf under the bridge, and the river water
is quiet as it travels past. 

I sit down and pull my flip-flops off, resting my feet on top of
the cool water. I close my eyes and try to imagine that I'm sitting at the end
of a dock and that my feet are skimming the ocean water, not this brown river
water. I'm not sure how long I sit there. I keep my eyes closed and eventually,
I lean back against a steel support beam. Cars drive over every now and then, causing
the wall behind me to vibrate. Eventually a car slows and I hear a door slam.
Someone is coming down the dirt path.

"I thought I might find you here."

Jason
.

I open my eyes and I'm surprised to see how much the light has
changed since I arrived. It is no longer bright and offensive, but rather soft
and golden. The sky is streaked with purple and red.

"How long have I been gone?" I watch as Jason sits down
beside me, holding his legs off to the side.

"Three hours," he says. "I imagine it took you
almost an hour to walk out here. It's five miles."

I blink at him. "I didn't plan to. I just hit the sidewalk
and kept walking. Somehow I ended up here."

"Do you remember this place?"

I shake my head, and Jason smiles sadly.

"You used to come here to hide from your mom. You said it was
far enough from town that she couldn't sense your happiness and try to ruin it.
Plus, you knew she would never traipse through the dirt and brush to find you
down here."

I stifle a laugh. "I shouldn't laugh," I say. "I
shouldn't find anything funny about the situation with my mom. How did it get
so bad?"

"I don't know." His answer sounds truthful.

"I guess dinner is ruined," I say.

Jason bumps my shoulder. "Actually, I finished making it, but
I doubt I did as good of a job as you would have done."

"It all tastes the same." I turn my head and I’m
suddenly aware of how close Jason is. His shoulder is pressed against mine and
he is leaning slightly toward me, his face close to mine. 

Before I have time to think about it, his lips are on mine.
Pictures, both moving and still, rush at me quickly. Kissing Jason in cars,
behind the school, at prom, in my bedroom, in his bedroom, and so on. I gasp
and push him away, scrambling to a standing position.

Jason jumps up. "I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have done
that."

I shake my head. "No, it's okay. I think. You shouldn't have
to apologize for kissing your wife." I bring my fingers to my lips.
"It made me remember things."

"We should go," Jason is looking at the water now, and
the shadows make it impossible for me to see his expression.

"Okay," is all I can sputter
out.
 

We climb up the dirt path and back to Jason's car, which is parked
on the side of the road. The drive back into town is quiet.

"Is my mom gone?" I think to ask when we are getting
close. "She isn't camped out on the couch, is she?"

Jason laughs. "She stormed out soon after you left."

"You would think that after all these years, she would
finally learn that she can't control me."

"Well," Jason starts. "Actually, since we got
married you have kind of let her control you."

"Really?" I ask with genuine surprise.

He just nods and then we are pulling into the driveway. When we
step into the house the scent of the pork chops hits my nose.

"I'm not sure I even want to eat them now," I say
softly. 

"I boxed them up and put them in the fridge," Jason says
as he steps past me. "Pizza?"

"Pizza," I say in agreement.

For the first time
since coming home, Jason and I don't talk with the purpose of helping me
remember. We just talk. He asks me about my time in Hampton Harbor and I tell
him everything except the parts that include Will. I shouldn't feel guilty,
since I had no memories of Jason at the time, but it doesn't seem worth the
hurt I may bring him.