Forget Me Not Read online

  So, I waited. Hours turned into days, days turned into weeks, and when weeks turned into a month realization struck and my world fell apart. I had barely left my room during this period of denial. My bag was secretly packed and stashed under my bed, ready for a speedy getaway. I ate only enough to survive until Jesse could come for me. I shut down, both mentally and physically. I was terrified that my parents would try to keep me away from Jesse and so they became barriers for me to overcome. My friends were unnecessary distractions that I avoided at all costs, and so eventually they were lost. Except Emma, who never gave up.

  When understanding shook me from my defiant denial, I was exposed to a plethora of emotions. I was hounded by non-stop tears, tears for a lost boy in the big world. I knew that he had no other family, no friends outside of Starling. Where could he possibly go? I imagined him alone and hungry, unable to make his way back. There were tears for a relationship on hold. The unknown left me with grief that I couldn’t put a name too. Was this the end? I ached for him to caress me once more so that I could savor his last touch. There was no light, just dark. No feeling, except pain.

  After the tears came anger. I was burnt with pure fury that after two years he could just leave me like this. I gave him my everything. I believed that I was his everything. Irritation at my naivety festered inside of me, feeding off of the understanding that I’d been fooled. If he’d truly cared, then he would have shared his plans, or at least left me with some pitiful explanation for his leave. He didn’t care. I can’t believe that I ever fooled myself into thinking that he did. What a naive, stupid girl.

  After the anger had mellowed I became desperate for answers. Regardless of the manner in which he’d left, I had to know where he was and if he was okay. The hurt and anger were overshadowed by the unwavering love I still harbored for him, and I needed to know that he was safe. I clung to the hope that I’d find him, even if it was just to say goodbye. If I couldn’t have him, then I could at least have closure.

  I couldn't face going to NYU. What if he came back for me and I was miles away in New York? Instead, I enrolled at a local college and came back home every night, listening for my Jesse and the promise of his stones. I could never give up on the hope that one day, we would be reunited.

  Tears have spilled from my eyes, causing the ink to blur as they fall onto the back page of my yearbook. He left me. He didn't look back. I waited for far too long and he never returned. He’s had many other reasons to come back and he hasn't.

  On leave from the army just months after Jesse’s departure, Ted hung himself. His horrific, premature death only fueled my concern for Jesse’s wellbeing. My mom accompanied me to Ted’s funeral. I was so anxious to see Jesse, to be there for him, but he never attended.

  His mother also waited for him. We spoke briefly but Dale clung to her side and I had to fight the returning rage that simmered inside me. A funeral is no place to vent. She managed to tell me that he’d called only once to say that he was safe and well, but he gave no indication of where he was.

  Just two years later she died from a heart attack. It made sense to me that she would die from a broken heart. She’d lost two sons and was burdened by the force that is Dale. Again, I attended, still longing to see Jesse, except this time I was under no illusions that I would. Instead, I paid my respects to the troubled woman that born my love.

  Jesse hated Starling and its inhabitants so much that he couldn’t find it within himself to return to show his respect for his deceased family. So, why on Earth would he come back for a corny reunion? These painful memories have served as a reminder of his clean cut with all ties here. I won’t be seeing him next week, because he won’t be in attendance.

  A day of joyous memories and reminiscence has been clouded by the returning knowledge that I will never see him again. And, if by some miracle he finds himself at the reunion, he won’t care that I’m there. I wasn’t enough to bring him back before and I’m certainly not enough to entice him to stick around now.

  I lie down and push my yearbook away. I’ve cried myself dry, and so with raw eyes I drag the pillow over my head and beg for sleep to take me. I wonder if by accepting that he’ll never come back I have gained the closure I’ve sought after for years. It certainly feels like some form of acceptance. Maybe by reliving this hurt and understanding that he’ll never be a part of my life again, fleeting or not, I can finally let him go.

  I drift off, hopeful, but that night I dream about the dangerous blue eyes of Jesse.

  Chapter 4

  The next few days are spent trying to keep busy so that my thoughts are kept from navigating towards Jesse. With the reunion tomorrow, I find myself upping the efforts. While I’ve distracted myself with yet another busy afternoon at work Benji has enjoyed time with Emma, her husband, Tom, and their daughter, Lily, who also happens to be Benji’s best friend.

  Cooking dinner for myself and Benjamin on his return gives me a good excuse to keep busy. He’s full of energy, animatedly informing me of how they spent the day in the park, and how they ate hotdogs for lunch. I suspect a copious amount of candy passed their lips too from the evidence before me. Benji’s been bouncing around the living room for the last twenty minutes, stopping only to demonstrate a cartwheel or karate kick.

  He barely touches his lasagna but instead speaks spiritedly about all of the things Tom did with them. His eyes are wide with excitement as he recalls how Tom can lift him above his head and that he can play soccer better than Mommy. I nod and smile encouragingly, but inside my heart wilts. The only father figure Benji’s had in his life is his grandpa. My father is a great dad and grandpa, but it’s not the same.

  Benji never seemed to be aware that he didn't have a father in his life until he started kindergarten. Seeing all of the other moms and dads must have had an impact, and eventually he asked about our situation and why he didn't have a daddy. It broke my heart explaining to him that his father’s unable to look after us both right now, but that he loves him very much. I rationalized his absence by saying that I was both Mommy and Daddy, for now. He accepted this as it was all he needed. Since then, he has mentioned his daddy only a handful of times and only in passing. I have never asked Benji about his feelings towards him, believing that there was plenty of time for that. Now, listening to Benji regale so happily about his time spent with someone else’s daddy, I feel like that time is closing in.

  Walking him up the stairs to bed I worry that it’ll be a long time before his energy subsides enough for him to sleep, so I sit with him reading story after story.

  "Time to sleep now, sweetheart," I whisper as I turn out his bedside light.

  "I love you, Mommy," he says softly into my ear before turning over. My eyes fill with happy tears and I smile my first genuine smile since the salon.

  My bag is packed and sitting by the front door. My dress is suspended from a clothes hanger attached to my curtain pole. Benji's overnight bag is hanging on the coat peg ready for his sleepover at his grandma and grandpa's.

  Everything is ready for Friday. Everything, except me.

  Evidence of my interrupted sleep bruises my eyes and my usual color seems to have drained from my face. I manage a couple of mouthfuls of toast for breakfast before I give in to my nausea, opting for a quick coffee instead.

  Feeling completely uncomfortable in my mind, I seek security in my body and opt for my little Michaela uniform. I dress in my skinny jeans and my Ramones t-shirt before tugging on some black, biker style ankle boots. It’s surprisingly warm outside, considering the rain that’s graced us this last week, but I still wrap myself in a thick cardigan, needing the extra comfort.

  My parents collect Benji for a day and night of being spoilt rotten, and after handing over contact details for the hotel and saying my goodbyes they leave me and my nerves to meet Emma for a morning of pre-reunion pampering.

  Feigning being relaxed is harder than it looks, but I’m trying. After having my hair cut and styled into long bouncy waves and
my nails beautified with a deep burgundy, I’m now getting a lengthy pedicure. Closing my eyes, I roll my head back, yet calm still evades me. When I close my eyes I’m left alone with my thoughts, and that’s not helpful.

  Emma is sat next to me, her feet dipped into a foot spa. She looks at me curiously before deciding to bite the bullet.

  “So, are you nervous? You seem a lot calmer."

  "I think I’m actually quite excited now. I can't remember the last time I got properly dressed up for a night out," I reply, fairly sincerely.

  Emma doesn't believe me though. "You’re okay about seeing everyone? Everyone?”

  "Yes, everyone,” I emphasize. “If you’re referring to Jesse, then there really is no need for me to be nervous. He won't be going."

  "How do you know that?"

  "Because, Em, he’s had more than enough reasons to come back before and he never has. Why would he come back for some stupid school reunion?"

  "Because he’d want to see you," Emma suggests, oblivious to the rhetorical edge implied in my argument.

  "Emma, be serious. I’ve never moved and my parents still live in the exact same house. There are many ways he could find me if he wanted too, but he hasn't, and he never will." I allow myself to feel a little proud for being this open to the idea of never seeing Jesse again and it not ending me.

  Emma frowns and inches a little closer in her seat. "What if I told you I had some inside information? Evidence that he will be in attendance."

  My mouth drops, as does my heart. Right on cue, Cassie, I have learnt, interrupts to start work on Emma's nails, effectively cutting her tip in half. My freshly manicured fingers press against my mouth, holding in a million questions. How does Emma know this? Has she spoken to him? Has she seen him? Why’d she wait until now to tell me? The mask of bravado that I’ve been wearing all afternoon is slipping.

  "How?" I blurt out. "Have you spoken to him?" My previous anxiety about tomorrow has returned twofold. I want to scream at her for neglecting to tell me sooner, but I’m stopped by her clear apprehension.

  "Michaela, breathe," she whispers, holding my gaze. I do as I’m told, taking a deep breath. In and out. In and out. I squeeze my hands between my thighs and the trembles lessen enough for her to carry on. "There's a group on Facebook. It was set up for the reunion, and I saw that..."

  "But he isn't on Facebook…" I interrupt.

  Emma nods slowly as if talking to a child. "I know, but remember Smithy? Wayne Smith?" She pauses, waiting for a response. I manage a nod. "He was talking about who he’d spoken to about the reunion and Jesse was one of the names he mentioned. I wasn't going to say anything until later." She exhales loudly and I realize that she’s been holding her breath too. "I'm sorry. Maybe I shouldn't have said anything at all."

  I look at Cassie and she is most professionally still painting Emma's toenails, appearing oblivious to our conversation and the sudden tension in the air. Okay, her tip is safe.

  "No, I'm glad you did. I guess I just thought I’d dealt with it all."

  Emma stretches her hand across and leaves it there, palm up. A little calmer now, I lean across and hold it, trying to smile at her.

  "Is he friends with Smithy?" I ask.

  "I don't think they’re close. I got the impression that they know each other through work."

  "Isn't Smithy a doorman or something? Why would he know Jesse still? Do you think Jesse is a doorman too?"

  "I don't know what Jesse does, Mickey. I'm sorry, I should’ve asked."

  This is unreal. This is the first snippet of information I’ve learnt about Jesse since his inexplicable disappearance. The first portion of proof that he’s still in existence, confirmation that he is even alive. I can’t deny that the wretched possibility of his death hasn’t haunted me. It would have explained why I could find no trace of him. Now to have some indication of his life after Starling, after me, is overwhelming. I take a moment to absorb this information.

  A doorman? It doesn't fit. I guess he had that bad boy thing going for him at school, but that wasn't him. He knew how to defend himself, and he had plenty of practice at home, but he hated it. He hated feeling physical power over someone else. He’d learnt too much compassion for a job like that.

  “It’s not your problem, Em,” I sigh.

  She shrugs guiltily and I feel terrible for involving her in my drama. Emma must have been dreading telling me. We speak every day and yet we have never spoken about Jesse in this much depth. She daren’t, not when she was witness to the repercussions of his departure.

  "Seriously, Em, don’t worry about it. I guess I’ll find out tonight anyway."

  I smile again, but it's not real and Emma knows it. She still smiles back out of politeness and we spend the rest of our time here discussing the soaps.

  After Gina’s we head into town for some last minute things, both of us purchasing new makeup and I pick up my camera from work. I take her to Mo's Diner for lunch and relax in our shared memories of the place. She’s careful not to mention Jesse, but instead talks about how she had a major crush on the guy that used to work here, only to see him years later with his arms around another man. We laugh, I mean properly laugh, and I sense that Emma is working hard to dispel any nerves I may still be entertaining. It's not until we are back in the car heading for the hotel that Emma finds the courage to ask me how I am truly feeling.

  "Okay,” I answer. “As long as I don't think too much about it." My eyes stay fixed on the road, but I can feel hers burning into me. "What?" I ask in mock annoyance. I look at her to see her squinting curiously.

  "Nothing, I’m just trying to work you out. One minute you’re fine, then you’re all knotted up, and then you're fine again."

  "I know…It's exhausting!" I giggle, and she responds equally. "Let's just pretend that I’m okay, and then we can deal with what happens if at any point I’m not."

  "Okay. Deal."

  "And let's just get really drunk."

  "Oh, please!"

  An hour later and we’re in front of The Worcester Hotel and Bar. It’s a tall grey building with a vague cylindrical statue sitting in its courtyard. The parking lot is full and I find myself searching the cars. Which, if any, of these cars might be Jesse's? They house the possibility of so many lifestyles; different careers, personalities, tastes and paychecks. I don't even know where to begin in guessing which one could belong to him. I don't know him anymore. Years ago I could have written a book about my knowledge of Jesse Jenner. Now, I could barely write a sentence. If I do see him will it be like meeting a complete stranger?

  We check in and eagerly make our way to our room. It’s been a while since I stayed somewhere as nice as this. Our room is simple and delicate in design with creams and gold’s cascading down the curtains and over the bedding. There are two single beds on opposite sides of the room with a dressing table between them and a small en suite in the corner. We unpack our belongings and call to check on the children back home. We have a couple of hours before we need to get ready so we decide to just chill out until it’s time to get ready.

  This moment, right now, is one of the many moments that I’m thankful for my best friend. Emma has done the impossible and not only made me look beautiful, but instilled a sense of confidence in me. It’s amazing what a talented hand can do. I stand facing the full length mirror and smooth out the non-existent creases of my dress. My hair sits in loose curls at my shoulders and my makeup is the best it has ever been. My eyes are dressed in smoky eye shadow with lashings of mascara, and my skin appears flawless. My lips are nude with just a touch of sheer lip gloss. I thank Emma a million times. I could never have achieved this look myself. I feel ready for anything. Well, almost anything.

  Emma looks stunning in her navy dress and her hair falls long and perfectly straight down her back. I manage to take some photos of us before we leave, actually feeling quite comfortable at being one of the subjects of my photography, rather than hiding behind the camera as standard.
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  Walking with our heads held high we make our way down the corridor to the elevator and out onto the ground level. We cross the marble floor of the foyer to a set of double doors where a silver banner stretches across the door frame. It reads ‘Class of 2002’.

  Chapter 5

  Silver features strongly throughout the room. Circular tables covered with white linen are decorated with bunches of black and silver balloons, all adorned with the number ten. Metallic petals of confetti litter the floor and banners of different lengths and sizes border the entire room. The tables are all grouped to the right, just in front of the entrance and the room continues a long way to the left. At the far end of the room is a dance floor but the few people here seem to be in the middle at the bar. My thoughts exactly.

  I grip Emma's hand tightly as we make our way to get drinks.

  "Shall we just start on the gin already?" I suggest.

  She giggles before realizing I am totally serious. "Oh, okay. And tonic?"

  "Yeah, of course." I reply, slightly embarrassed by my eagerness.

  As I fight the urge to tip the entire drink down my throat, I scan the room. The reunions attendee’s are sparse but the space is slowly filling up. Most people have come in pairs or groups and I gradually relax as I recognize more and more people. We wave shyly at a group of girls sat at one of the tables, but neglect to go and speak to them. Cheerleaders.

  We sit ourselves at a large round table and are immediately joined by Sarah and Brett, part of our Mo’s Diner troupe. I begin to relax into the comfortable conversation and as people come and go, catching up and moving on, I find myself actually enjoying the evening.

  That said, I haven't been able to stop looking around for Jesse. It’s quite possible that I look as though I have an extreme nervous tic considering the way I’ve been arching my neck. My attempts have been in vain though, and the fuller the room gets the more difficult my search is becoming. I don’t even know what I’m looking for. My only recollection of Jesse is of an eighteen year old. He could have piled on the pounds or lost his beautiful dark hair. Maybe he is completely unrecognizable from his old self. Perhaps I am looking for a man who isn’t even here. All of this anxiety and fret has probably been for nothing.