Forget Me (Hampton Harbor) (24 page)

“I
can do that,” I say.

“I
have to do this a lot at camp, since our trainer is only part time,” he tells
me. “It will only take a minute.”

He
dabs some ointment on the cuts and I wince at the sting. He then wraps a long
bandage around each foot and inspects his work. An uneasy feeling settles in my
stomach, and I recognize it as guilt, confusion, and pride, all wrapped
together. I shouldn’t feel guilty that Jason is touching me, but I should feel
guilty that I called Will tonight. The confusion I’ve been feeling seems
necessary. The pride is unavoidable, and I know the emotion is etched deep within
me from years living with a stubborn and controlling mom. I want to unravel
each feeling and kick them out of my body one by one.

Jason
packs up the first aid kid and stands, once again taking a seat on the arm of
the chair.

“I’m
sorry I yelled like that,” he starts. “It’s just...this...this is all really
frustrating for me.”

I
work my jaw to keep from crying, because I completely understand.

“His
name is Will,” I blurt out.

No
matter how much I want to let my eyes wander, I keep them locked on Jason’s.

“Will,”
he repeats. His voice is soft but I can hear an undertone of disappointment.

“Did
you...” Jason pauses and holds up his hands, “... never mind, I don’t want to
know.”

I
bite my lip.

We
sit in silence for a minute, but it feels longer.

“I’m
not going to say anything about
him
,”
Jason finally says. “Because I can’t pretend to understand what you were going
through, and still are, with the amnesia. I can’t blame you for trying to move
on when you didn’t know there was anything to come back to.”

He
looks as if he wants to say more but he doesn’t.

“I
have to be at work early to set up for pitching camp, so I need to head to
bed.” He stands and offers me his hand, but I just look at it. “I promise not
to touch you.”

“That
isn’t it...” I tell him, embarrassed that he thinks I’m upset by his touch.

“I
know,” he replies. “I still think you should come to bed.”

I
look at the pile of blankets on the other end of the couch, and then at his
hand. I take it slowly and let him pull me off of the couch.

“You
touched me,” I say with a small smile.

He
rolls his eyes and gives me a playful shove toward the stairs. Once in the
bedroom, we each settle into our own side of the bed and I turn away from him,
curling into a small ball.

Baby steps
, I
tell myself.
Baby steps
.

When I woke up this morning,
Jason had already left for work. My feet had been stiff as I got out of bed,
and I was glad no one was around to see the blush that crossed my cheeks. Jason
had been so tender when he had taken care of me, so tender when he had touched
me. My body responded to that touch better than my mind could seem to.

After a quick shower, I called Beth and she came and picked me up.
We had brunch at the Clinton Corner Cafe and now we were headed just north of
town, to a place I still wasn't sure I wanted to go.

"Are you sure she's at the club?" I ask Beth.

Beth nods. "Where else would she be on a weekday close to
noon?" She rolls her eyes and I laugh.

I decided this morning that I need to see my mom and talk to her.
I needed to meet the rest of my family and work on getting a different set of
memories back. The memories that are resurfacing about Jason are becoming too
painful.

The golf course seems out of place amongst the old town and
numerous cornfields, and I’m taken back by how nice it is as we drive in. The
grass is bright green and freshly mowed. The trees are full, and there are
flowers planted in pot that border the main parking lot. Beth drops me off and
tells me to call her if I need to be picked up. I plan on going home with my mom,
but if my memory serves me right, that mood could change in an instant.

A man is standing by the door and pulls it open for me, tipping
his chin down as I pass.

"Good afternoon Mrs. Rupp," he says.

It is the first time someone had addressed me so formally.

Mrs. Rupp. Melissa Rupp.

It’s odd to say Jason's last name with my first, but I know it’s
been this way for three years.

I find my mom in the ladies’ lounge, picking at a salad and
sipping iced tea. A group of women her age surround the table, all with fresh
manicures and dyed hair.

My mom almost drops her fork when she sees me.

"Melissa." She plasters on a fake smile.

The women at the table all begin to chatter at once.

"Glad to see you back home."

"Grace told me all about your accident. How awful that must
have been for you."

"Jason must be so glad to have you home."

"I can't believe your grandparents held you there against
your will..."

The last comment almost sends me over the edge.

"Mom, can I speak with you in private?" I say loudly.

The chatter stops and all eyes turn to my mom. She sets her fork
down and nods, rising slowly.

"Tell Ron to put lunch on my tab, ladies," she says
cheerfully and then grabs her purse off the side of her chair.

I walk into the entryway beside her. Her heels and my
flip flops
make an array of noises on the marble floor.

"I'm hoping you came here to tell me you've finally come to
your senses," she says as we leave the building and walk to her car.

I guess I am leaving with her.

Once in her car I turn to face her. "I'm not here so that you
can control me. I'm not going to see those doctors in Chicago, and I'm not
working on your schedule. I'm here because being around family and friends
helps me
remember
, and I want to get my full memory
back. The past year is fuzzy and I want all of this over with. If I can spend
some time with Robbie, and maybe you and Ted, it might help."

My
mom just nods, her eyes narrow and her lips in a thin, straight line.

“There
is something I need to know,” I say. “Something I’ve been wondering since I’ve
been back.”

“What’s
that?” she asks quietly.

“Why
did you leave Hampton Harbor? When did you leave Charles and Marie?”

My
mom clears her throat. “It all seems really silly now. When I left the first
time, as a teenager, it was strictly out of rebellion. I knew I wanted to go to
college away from home, and Indiana felt far enough. My relationship with my
mother was tense at best when I came home from breaks. Both of us were too
prideful to mend the relationship.”

She
wrings her fingers around the wheel of the car and continues.

“She
never approved of your father, and I married him anyway. We eloped to Vegas the
summer after graduation. I didn’t even tell my mother for two weeks, and I
remember how hard she cried when I finally did. We moved into an old farmhouse
not far from here, and I got pregnant with you pretty quickly. I took you to
Hampton Harbor for a few weeks each summer, and when Robbie came along he went
as well. That summer, the last summer we visited Hampton Harbor, was when your
father and I started having issues. My mother overheard me fighting with him on
the phone and gave me a long speech about how she
told me so
. I packed you and Robbie up and we left. I didn’t
divorce your father until many years after that, but they were years full of yelling
and tears. I couldn’t go back to face my parents. I couldn’t tell my mother she
was right.”

I
blink back tears, imagining how my mom must have felt. I can picture the fights
they had, and how much I just wanted them to end. I was upset the summer they
divorced, but I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t been relieved as well.

“It’s
hard to picture Marie like that,” I say.

And
then I think about Marie’s parting words to my mom.

Don’t make the same mistakes I did.

“She’s
changed,” my mom says, as though she needs to convince herself of the fact.

“Yes,”
I say. “She is the most loving and generous person I know.”

My
mom wipes a tear from under her eye and clears her throat.

"Robbie
is coming into town this weekend. Would you be willing to come have dinner with
us, at my home?" I can tell how hard it is for her to pose this as a
question, rather than tell me when dinner will be.

"Saturday
night should work just fine," I say.

Before
I know it, she is driving me home and pulling into my driveway.

"Thank
you, for making an effort," she says to the steering wheel.

The
softness in her voice surprises me, and I can hear an under tone of sadness.

"Thank
you
," I say before climbing out
of the car, and by the look on her face, I can tell she is just as surprised.

When I get inside I
pull out my phone and immediately dial Marie. I get the answering machine and
try the cafe next, glad that I remember the numbers so easily. Shelley tells me
that they are out of town for a few days, and wishes me well before she hangs
up. I set my phone on the coffee table and wander around the room, looking at
the framed pictures again and again. I can recall most of these moments now;
Jason and my Christmas card picture last year, a few pictures from the lake,
more we
dding pictures, and a picture that is harder to look
at, a picture of me holding baby Ethan in the hospital.

"We
can go see him, you know.”

I
spin around. Jason is standing behind me. I didn’t even hear him come in.

He
eyes the picture of Ethan. "It's an open adoption, and I know they'd be
willing to let you see him despite your situation."

I
turn back to the picture and push the emotion welling in my chest back
down. 

"Not
yet," I whisper. 

I
walk away from the picture and sit down on the sofa, leaning my head back and
closing my eyes.

"I'm
going to my mom's for dinner on Saturday. You're invited too, of course."
I say out loud.

"That’s
probably a good idea,” Jason replies. “Maybe then she’ll stop blowing up my
phone.”

I
grin. “I still haven’t told her mine is working again.”

“I’ve
noticed,” he retorts.

We
both laugh and then Jason clears his throat. “I’m going to mow the lawn and
then take a shower. I thought maybe we could go out for dinner tonight, maybe
give those cookbooks of yours a break.”

I
look up at him, my mouth hanging open slightly. I think he might be asking me
on a date.

“Um,
yeah, sure. That sounds nice,” I stutter.

Jason
doesn’t hide his relief. “Okay, dinner out it is.”

I
wait until he is out the back door before I grab my purse and hurry out the
door. I jog to the elementary school and right into the playground, plopping
down on a bench. I pull out my phone and take a deep breath, punching numbers
into the keys.

Will answers on the second ring. "Jane."

The wind whips across the speaker and I know he is out on the
docks, possibly servicing a boat. I close my eyes and try to picture myself
there with him, but the hurt is too strong and the ache too deep, so I open
them again. Flat land, cornfields, and an elementary school.

Reality
.

"Are you busy?"

"I have a few minutes," he responds.

"What would have happened to us, if I wasn't married? Do you
think we would have stayed together?" I don't know why I’m asking this
particular question but the
what ifs
 are
driving me insane and I need to lay it all out on the table. I need closure.

"Jane, I..., should I be calling you Melissa?" he goes
off topic.

"Call me what you want, I don't really refer to myself as
either," I tell him.

"Jane." He chooses the name I was hoping to hear.
"Why are you doing this to yourself. To me?"

I thought about this last night. Calling Will only brings fresh
waves of pain. It isn’t fair to either of us.

I sniff back tears. "I don't know. Even though I am starting
to remember life before the accident, my time in Hampton Harbor is still fresh
and still very real. I can't just erase Jane and pretend it never happened. I
can't forget the boardwalk or the cafe, the docks or you. I definitely can't
forget you Will, no matter how hard I try."

"You need to forget me, Jane," he says softly. "For
both of us.
You're married
,
you have
a family
. We knew this might happen when we started seeing each other,
right? Maybe we both spent too much time hoping that we would end up on the
other side of this. Either way, you're home now, where you belong."