Forget Me (Hampton Harbor) (6 page)

"We better get going. I should get you down to the marina
before you’re late." Marie grabs my hand and pulls me out of her room and
down the stairs. We arrive at Davey & Sons Boating with ten minutes to
spare, and it isn’t until we pull into the parking lot that I really start to
feel nervous.

"Maybe I should cancel," I say.

"Oh stop it," Marie says. "I'm sure you'll have a
great time."

"I don't remember what it's like to date, Marie," I say.
"This might as well be my first date
ever
."

"I think you'll find that it will all come back to you, just
like everything else you’ve managed to do while you’ve been with us." She
motions to the door and I sigh, unlocking it and climbing out of the car. I
peek my head back into the car.

"Should I go into the main office again?" I ask.

"Head down to the marina. Will doesn't stray far from the
water," she says with a wink. 

I wave goodbye and hurry to the ramp that leads down to the boardwalk.
Just as Marie said, I find Will leaning on the wood railing that separates the
dock from the bay. He is looking out over the water, his back straight and his
hands shoved into the pocket of his jeans. These jeans are much nicer than the pair
he wore earlier. His shirt is black, with short sleeves, and I know that when
he turns around the butterflies that have taken up camp in my stomach will
wake-up. Even now I feel the tips of their wings fluttering.

For a moment I watch him, with the breeze blowing his hair back from
his face. I walk forward until I reach his side, looking out over the water
with him. The sea breeze picks up my hair and blows it behind me.

"It's beautiful here," I say. Not to Will in particular,
I am just sharing a thought I think several times a day.

"I've lived here my whole life," Will responds.
"And I never stop thinking that."

He turns to face me and I keep my eyes on the water. The
butterflies are restless, and I know that he is looking me over. An uneasy
feeling moves over me, and I freeze. I can't turn and walk away now. I need to
face this head on, and I need to do it with a confidence that shows that I want
to be here.

My eyes finally find his. "So since you’ve already picked out
what I’m buying you for dessert, does that mean I get to pick what you are
buying me for dinner?"

Will smiles. "That depends. What are you picking?"

I feign deep thought, using one finger to tap my chin. I've tried
several types of food since my accident, and none stick out in my mind. There
is one food that pops into my head, one I haven't eaten here, but at the
moment, it sounds good.

"I could really use some cheese ravioli," I finally say.

Will's face lights up and he offers me his arm. "I have that
one covered."

Will walks me to a small Italian restaurant. There is a red neon sign hanging
over the door that reads
Amore Della Baia
,
and a pretty hostess greets us in the entryway. 

"Hey Will," she says. "Do you want your usual
table?"

He nods and the hostess leads us to a booth in the back corner.
The walls are all exposed brick, and there are fake grape vines hanging from
the ceiling.
The room is lit by large bulbs on wire strung
across
the room, and each table has a small lantern attached to the
wall. Faint Italian music plays in the background.

"Best cheese ravioli in the state." He points to a small
blurb in the menu.

"I feel like you’re cheating on the Grace Cafe," I say
as I slip into one side of the booth. "And here I thought we were the only
restaurant you frequented."

"I like to share the love," he responds.

He sits across from me, his forearms on the table and his hands
clasped together. 

"So tell me about yourself, William Davey." I decide to
beat him to the first date question and answer period. Marie and I talked about
this while I was getting ready, and we came up with some vague answers that I
can give to popular questions. I’m afraid that I might slip and tell my secret,
or feel guilted into telling, so I decide to put the spotlight on him.

"What do you want to know?" He splays his hands across
the table.

"Everything," I say playfully. "Favorite color,
favorite movie, favorite cereal, where did you go to school, what exactly do
you do at the boating company?"

Will laughs and holds his hands up in surrender. "You really
do want to know
everything
. At this
rate we'll close the place down."

A waitress stops by our table before Will can continue. 

"Hey Will," she says. "The usual?"

"Two of the usual please." He motions to me but the
waitress barely acknowledges my presence. She turns and disappears into the
kitchen.

Will sets his chin on one fist. "Red, Tommy Boy, and Lucky
Charms, to start. I think it is only fair if we go back and forth here."

I can handle that. "Green, I don't have a favorite, and Honey
Nut Cheerios."

The color of the bay in
the morning. I haven't watched a movie since my accident. Honey Nut Cheerios is
the only cereal in Charles and Marie's kitchen.

"You don't have a favorite movie? Clearly you've never
watched Tommy Boy."

I shake my head. "Doesn't ring a bell."

Will's mouth pops open and I know that he is exaggerating the
expression. "I know what we are doing for our second date."

"That's a little presumptuous," I say. "Besides,
date two is
me
buying
you
 ice cream."

"Fine, date three," he responds. He doesn't give me a
chance to retort before he continues answering my questions. "I went to
Hampton Harbor High School and graduated with one hundred and fifty other
seniors in my class. I attended the University of Southern Maine for four years
and graduated with a bachelor degree in Business. I guess this all blends into
working for Davey & Sons Boating. I always knew that I would come work for
the company, but I wanted to at least experience college and get a degree I
could benefit from. In the mornings I work in the office. In the afternoons I
head out to the marina, helping to service the boats or checking on boats we
are boarding for people out of town. Many of our customers only visit for a few
weeks each summer, but they still dock their boats year-round."

"Davey &
Sons
,"
I start. "Does that mean you have a brother, or brothers?"

Will nods. "My older brother is the lead accountant, and my
younger brother is a sophomore at USM, getting his degree in business. We
aren't sure if he is going to come work for the company or not, but at least my
older brother and I are set to inherit it."

"What are their names?" I ask.

I've gone off the assigned list of questions but I find that I'm
feeling genuine interest about Will's life. What I want to know about him comes
to me with ease. 

"My older brother is James, named after our father. I'm named
after my grandfather, and my youngest brother, Lincoln, well his name is an odd
story."

"Tell me!" I urge. 

The waitress drops off our waters and neither Will nor I spare her
a glance.

Will sits back against the booth and smiles. "Well, my mom
wasn't fond enough of her father to use his name for Linc, so when he was born
they still didn't have a name picked out. My dad wanted Jeffrey and my mom
wanted Christopher so they decided to flip a coin. All my dad had in his pocket
at the time was a penny, so they used that. When it hit his hand my dad said, "Abe
Lincoln's up" which was his way of saying head's up, and they had an AHA!
moment
."

"They did not!" I say through a laugh. "So your brother
is named after a President."

Will shrugs and crosses his arms over his chest. His smile is so sincere,
and contagious. "Crazy, right? Linc is just glad that they didn't go with
Abraham, or Abe."

I love the way Will talks about his family, and the way his eyes
light up when he does. I can only hope that when my memories return, I have
that same joy for my own family. Whoever they are.

"So, your turn." He points at me and put his hands back
on the table.

"Wait a minute, we skipped the minute details," I say
quickly. I'm not ready to come up with answers just yet. "How old are you?
When's your birthday?"

Will raises one eyebrow. "I sense some distraction
techniques, Miss. Jane."

I can see our waitress pulling dishes from under the warmers, and
I am hoping it is our food.

"Just answer the questions, Mr. William," I retort in a
similar tone.

"I'm twenty-four, and my birthday is July fourth, so I guess
I'll be twenty-five in just a few weeks."

           
“July
fourth,” I repeat.

           
The
date tickles at my mind.

           
“Hey,
it’s always a celebration and I always have a free fireworks show.”

The waitress arrives at our table and sets our plates down. The
ravioli smells amazing and I decide that even if this isn't truly one of my
favorite foods, it has to be up there on the list. I haven't even tasted it yet
and my mouth is already watering.

"
Now
 is it
your turn?" Will asks.

"Yes," I say. "But first I want to taste the best
cheese ravioli in the state."

Ten minutes later I've conclude that this
truly
 is the best cheese ravioli I've ever had. Technically, it
isn't a lie. I can't remember any other cheese ravioli dishes I've had. 
Will and I made small talk during the meal, but mainly I chose to stuff my face
with pasta.

"I don't think I have room for ice cream." I push my
empty plate away and place my hand over my stomach.

Will takes a sip of his water, his eyes locked on mine. "Give
it time to digest. You have questions to answer." He puts on a stern face
and I cover my smile with a napkin.

"Let's go outside and talk," I tell him. I know the
important part of this evening is coming.

Marie prepared me for this, and I realize that she had to have
known how much I would like Will. Large butterflies are stirring in my stomach.
My skin tingles and my legs feel numb.

How am I going to do
this?

"Jane," Will says my name and I look up. The smile is
gone from his face, and the laughter gone from his eyes. His expression has
morphed into one of concern, and the corners of his mouth are pulled down into
a frown. "You don't have to answer the questions if it bothers you."

"It doesn't bother me," I say nervously. "It's all
just hard to explain."

"Look," he says with a sigh. "I don't expect you to
open up to me on the first date and tell me your entire life story. I tend to
get carried away when I talk, and therefore you now know more about me than you
probably want to know...."

"No!" I lean forward. "I like hearing about you,
Will. Really. I..." I look down at the table. "Look, this will make
more sense when we're outside. I promise."

I need to be by the bay. I need my head clear when I say what I
need to tell him.

"Okay," is all he says before pulling money from his
wallet and setting it on the
table.
 

I guess I'm not the only waitress that gets the
no change
 treatment.

Once we are outside I immediately feel better. It is a little
after six, and the sun still has another hour or two before it dips toward the
horizon. The sea breeze hits my bare skin and I close my eyes, breathing in the
salty scent. As if he knows what I need, Will walks us down to the bay and we
find an unoccupied bench on the boardwalk. Most of the tourists in town eat
late, and explore the town after dark, but a few people wander past. A young
couple rides by on bikes, and a family of five walks past with ice cream.

"Will, this is going to be really hard to say..." I
start. 

I cross my legs and turn my body, knowing that he deserves this
information with my full attention. He turns toward me as well, throwing one
arm up over the back of the bench. His fingers brush against my shoulder gently
and I ignore the fire working its way across my skin.