Remember Me (2 page)

The year after Emily graduated from High school, we

faced each other alone for the first time in twenty-plus years.

If there was ever a time when we should find commonality it would be now. It didn’t happen, and the gap became too much to bear. The absence of both girls, away at college, deadened the air we shared. Rifts became challenges, and then threats, until finally the need for fresh air could wait no longer. The divorce was amicable and the girls flourished in spite of us.

From then on, I can only speak for myself; but a burden was lifted, and after the heartbreak that comes with the finality of divorce, I moved on.

I spent a year learning who I was, or more appropriately, who I was going to be. I began to write for the first time in over fifteen years. I had always envisioned I would write my first novel by the time I was thirty. I gave it a gallant effort, but set it aside with the belief I was not ready, or even qualified S 6 S

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to be a writer. I turned to my work—continually moving up the ladder to become the vice-president of outside sales by my fortieth birthday at Heartland Distributors. The internet changed how the company did business. Sales persons were let go as orders could be taken by our Web presence. Our company grew, where others dwindled, and some even disappeared altogether. We stood steadfast in the belief of maintaining the human touch. We didn’t need to see our customers quite as often, but still seeing them was the key difference.

By the smallest of chances, I met Amy at a bookstore in the Mall. I had been doing all of the things recently divorced men do: exercise, lose weight and tone up. I was in the best shape of my life, but still not actively searching for companionship. I had a few dates, nothing longer than two outings with anyone.

Simply, I was scared! I had no idea who I was intimately anymore. The marriage had shut down that part of me and I feared it might be gone and I couldn’t face the possibilities of what life would be like without it in the future. It would be simpler to avoid the issue rather than face it. What I really needed was a best friend. My oldest friend lived in Washington D.C.

He had become so successful and involved with the matters of state, that visits and conversation were years apart between us. He was never far from my thoughts and we talked several times during the first year of my divorce.

I was always an avid, if not insatiable reader. I collect authors and have to continually add bookshelves to hold their novels. Like any story lover, my list of writers has grown. I was looking for the newest novel by Douglas Preston and Lincoln Child when I met Amy for the first time. It isn’t quite accurate to say we met at the bookstore—in front of the bookstore is more precise. I literally ran her over. My cell-phone was singing out to me from my pocket and I reached in to grab it.

Blindly, I charged right into a woman who was looking into a S 7 S

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shop’s window, as she strolled down the mall’s walkway. My phone went flying and the sack she carried dropped to the ground. Both of them sustained irreparable damage, mine was negligible; it was time for a new phone anyway. My contract was long past on my current one. The sound of her package hitting the tiled walkway was one for the movies. Intermixed with the, “whump,” was the sickening sound of breaking glass.

In movie clips, the magic moment when love is first

encountered is brought to a higher intensity with the background music being played. Mall music is never going to cut it as magical. Our personal silence masked the piped-in music of some instrumental version of a once previous pop tune, which I couldn’t even name. Was it minutes or mere seconds that passed by. We both stood transfixed, starring at the package now demised on the floor. I picked up my broken phone and place it back in my pocket. I had yet to see the face of the woman I’d plowed into. Her long blonde hair had fallen over her face and her head was tilted down and off to the side of my field of vision. I had no idea if she was young or old, but my senses drew some quick conclusions. She was smaller in stature, dressed in jeans and a nice bright blue sweater top. She had sandals on and her toenails were painted a darker shade of red. I was stumbling to find my first words when she slowly raised her head to look at me.

“I am so very sorry,” I stammered. “I’ll pay for a replacement. It was totally my fault, and I shouldn’t have been walking while I tried to answer my phone.”

She brushed her hair back behind her ear and gazed up and into my eyes. Her face was not hard and full of anger—which I had rightly expected. Instead, her look was concerned and quizzical. I noticed the beautiful shade of blue in her eyes and the delicate thin lips, slightly pursed together. She bit at one corner of her lower lip. It was cute and I knew she was thinking S 8 S

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about what to say to the man who broke her purchase. Her soft cheeks were slightly brushed with a shade of pink and her lips had a matching color of gloss to them. Otherwise, she wore no other make-up. I wasn’t certain of her age, she had a quiet beauty and youthfulness about her, but I noticed the beginning of lines forming around the corner of her eyes. Thirty-five I considered; no, she might be older, I didn’t believe she was any younger.

I was about to apologize again when she spoke, “It wasn’t entirely your fault! I was also not paying attention to where I was going.”

Her voice caught me more by surprise than I could have

imagined. It sounded right—I can’t explain it any other way.

It was calming and I wanted to hear more of it. Her eyes were filled with intelligence and acute awareness. I also wondered if they weren’t a shade of sad as well. I must have conveyed something to her in my blatant stare, because she broke her eye contact with me. “It doesn’t matter, I was the one who knocked the package out of your hand,” I stated. “It falls firmly on me to make it right.”

She again searched my face before she spoke, “Accidents

happen and you lost a phone too, let’s just call it even and leave it at that.”

“It can’t be close to even,” I responded. “My phone was old and ready to be replaced anyway. In the long run, it will probably be a blessing to upgrade to a newer model.” I watched her as her eyes narrowed ever so slightly. I could tell she was trying to read me and I couldn’t help myself, I smiled at her.

It was her eyes that had me fixated, but when she smiled in response to me it lit up her whole face, and I was instantly struck by how beautiful she really was. It caught me inside and I instantly faced feelings that had been absent for too long.

In one mere instant I had been suddenly struck full hearted S 9 S

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by the woman in front of me—literally and figuratively. I did what my heart told me I had to do. I averted my gaze so I could glance down at her left hand. Luck had never been kind to me and it wasn’t about to start now. Her wedding ring was there in all of its implied glory and my heart instantly sank.

I returned my gaze to her face, trying to regain a margin of composure.

Her eyes were deep in study mode and I half smiled, knowing she knew what I had ascertained and I’m sure was written all over my face. We continued a friendly banter back and forth over me paying for her package. We finally reached an agree-able middle. She was going to try and return it to the store, explaining to them what had happened, see if they would replace it. If not; I had provided her my name and email address for her to contact me about payment. She was very cautious of me. She kept her hands close to her side. The three-foot gap she kept between us might as well have been miles. Only out of manners, had she even provided me with her first name, Amy.

I would get no last name, no email, and no personal information what-so-ever from her. I was still feeling a compelling need to keep her in conversation, but she interceded and said she needed to get on with her business.

I said, “Goodbye, it was nice to meet you,” presenting her my hand.

She looked at it, but didn’t raise hers in acceptance. “Got to be going, hope you have a good rest-of-the day,” she kindly offered, and then turned to head back the way she had come.

I felt all those feelings of dread and excitement mixed together inside. For a moment I had felt something I hadn’t in a long time, “aliveness.” I also felt remorse at having given up on my heart. The feelings had been missing for too long. Having them smack me as hard as they did, left we wanting more. I watched her walk away from me. I said out loud, and to no one S 10 S

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other than myself, “Thank you!” It was a statement of hope. I stood rooted to my spot and continued to watch her as she retreated, memorizing every little detail of her I could. She was a long way up the walkway and nearing the end of the mall, nearly to the “Younkers,” department store steps. She climbed them and then took a left into the woman’s section. I was ready to turn away when I caught her face staring back at me from the window inside the store. She turned away quickly, obviously not wanting me to know that she was “checking me out.” I smiled and wondered if my luck wasn’t about to change after all.

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Happy birthday.

May 22nd, 2010

Amy left for
the day to run errands. She needed a few things to prepare for the big birthday bash tomorrow and the family gathering tonight. She and the kids piled into her car and headed off for the day, shopping for birthday gifts as well, no doubt.

I was glad it wasn’t going to be a surprise party. I had my own list of things to accomplish. Tomorrow was Sunday and the guests would start coming shortly after noon. Amy was a terrific hostess and many of our friends and family would stay long into the night. My father, Neil, had loaned me his pop-up camper for the kids to sleep in. Just in case we needed the extra space. We were fortunate that most of our family was fairly close at hand. Samantha, my oldest daughter was driving up from Anamosa with her husband, Rick, and my two year old granddaughter, Megan. Emily and her husband, Quinn, would be flying in later today from Portland, Oregon.

Over the past four years, our families had merged peacefully together and we all genuinely liked each other’s company.

Amy’s parents had taken me in and treated me with total kindness and respect. My parents likewise had taken to Amy and her children. It was a blessing to share and be a part of something so meaningful. Amy’s parents, James and Sarah Martin, hit it off right away with my folks. They started sharing Christmas and birthday cards long before Amy and I tied the knot. Some things are meant to be and once in a great while the missing S 12 S

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piece of the puzzle finally shows up.

I stared down at the tuna sandwich on my plate and the

glass of pink lemonade next to it. I couldn’t help but smile, it was Saturday and I was at home instead of at work. This morning and last night with Amy had been great. I didn’t feel like I was turning fifty, if anything I was feeling more like a twenty year old. I relished every moment that I spent with her. She made me feel loved beyond our physical connection. She was everything I had hoped and prayed for. Hers was the face I dreamed about. I was way beyond lucky to have her love and to be so blessed. I had never been as scared as I was on the day I asked her to marry me. When she said yes, I knew then that I was the richest man in the world. Having her love was priceless.

I ate two large bites of my sandwich and washed it down

with a half of my lemonade and thought back to how I had met Amy. Neither of us got tired of kidding the other one about it. For us it was very much like being Tom Hanks and Meg Ryan in “You’ve Got Mail.” The incident at the mall, where I broke her snow globe was only the beginning. When she left me standing there all I knew was her first name. I waited for nearly four weeks before I received a short email from someone called, “ponygirl32.”

During that first week after my encounter with Amy, and

that one final glance she gave me from the Younker’s department store window, I held out hope she would contact me.

The second week I began to face the certainty that I had only been imagining the connection I felt that we had shared. It was truly all in my mind. During the third week, I began to move on. She was always right there in the background, invading my thoughts and drawing me back to that magical meeting.

It was dumb anyway to be so hooked on a brief encounter.

What was I thinking, she was clearly married, and I wasn’t the S 13 S

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type to chase after happily married women. It just wasn’t in me. Still, I couldn’t deny my sudden attraction to her. I was reasonably sure she must have felt some of it as well, but by the end of the third week, it was clear it wasn’t a two-sided collaboration.

On a Wednesday afternoon I took a moment to check my

personal email account at work. I had an email from, “ponygirl32.” I knew instantly that it could only have come from Amy. I didn’t have to be a world famous detective. My personal list of people who had my email address was relatively small.

One from someone called pony girl was unlikely to be, “junk mail.” My heart began to beat faster. I scanned the subject line and the only thing written was, “hello.” I double-clicked with my mouse to open it up. What I read made me jump up from my desk and shout, “I knew it. Man, I knew it!” Smiling and sitting back down I read the short message one more time,

“Hello Andrew. No, I am not married,” Amy.

I sent my reply right away, without even taking the time to think about what I was writing. I told her I was divorced for nearly two years and had two daughters in college. I was glad she reached out to me, because I’d been thinking about her ever since the day at the mall. I was instantly sorry after I hit the send button and began to think I had committed email suicide. I only had to wait three more totally excruciating days this time before I got her reply.

“Hello Andrew, just curious…exactly how old are you?”

“I’m divorced also. It’s been a little over a year now. My children are younger, the oldest in Junior High.”