Forget Me Nots

A year or so back I was sitting in the park, Hemming Plaza, eating my lunch. I had bought a hot dog, chips and Sprite from the nearby vendor and was just preparing to chow down. My mind was going over the state of my personal life.
I had just been sent reeling by the revelation of my Ex’s serious involvement with a new guy. They were living together and talking about marriage. I had just finally begun dating again and here she was living with a new guy AND getting all engaged.
Who was this guy who got her to so easily commit to him, something I had tried to do for YEARS?
What the hell was I doing wrong?
Where was I heading in my life?
When would I get there?
Why did HER happiness bother me so much?
How could she have so easily forgotten what we were…what we had… what was good?
It felt like she had moved on TOO easily. Made me feel like I meant nothing. I couldn’t let go of that. That she could let go and made it look… like we… were… nothing. I was an acquaintance at best, it seemed. I couldn’t NOT think about her and she had to be REMINDED I existed. She acted like I was just another “guy she fucked” and couldn’t forget how wonderful we could be together.
We weren’t perfect. Not all the time… but when we were “on”, it couldn’t be beat. Too much else got in the way and I couldn’t forget a single moment of it all. I remembered how it felt kissing her the first time.
And the last.
I remembered the fights and the nights filled with laughter.
I remembered her coming to be with me after my dad died and I remembered the infamous “dead one” comment that she never let me live down.
I remembered finding out she had slept with ANOTHER of my friends. I swear Kevin seems to be the only guy friend I had at the time she DIDN’T sleep with. Sure, we weren’t dating any of the times she did it but still… it’s the principle of the thing!
And now I find out she had met, moved in with and started talking marriage with a guy she had only had time to know for about 2 months. It took me YEARS just to get her to THINK about living together and here was this guy moving into HER house.
Why can’t I let go?
Why do I have to remember what she so easily forgot?
Why do I have to remember her when she obviously doesn’t remember me?
All of this and more came flooding into my mind as I sat there in the park. I just had to get away from work after finding out about the engagement.
I had to breathe.
It was then I noticed a woman, mid to late sixties, sitting across from me. She sat there looking down at a tiny bouquet in her hands as the petals fell, one by one, and I could see her lips moving. I wasn’t sure what they were but they seemed to be short, simple words. Since I was in need of something to get my mind off MY pain, I figured sharing someone ELSE’S would do the trick so I walked over to her and introduced myself.
“Hello, my name’s William, mind if I sit here?”
She took a moment before lifting her eyes up to meet mine, thought for a moment and then gestured slightly with her head. “Sure,” she said in a hushed tone. “My name’s Marie,” she added after I had gotten comfortable.
Marie looked back down at her flowers as another petal fell. Again I could see her lips move but my new vantage point didn’t make it any easier to figure out the words. Before I had a chance to ask her, she began to speak.
“My husband’s name is Arthur,” she began, “and he’s the most wonderful man in the world. Whenever I was feeling even the slightest bit ill, Arthur would be home to take care of me. He’s cook for me and make sure I had enough blankets. If I wanted to go somewhere, he’d always be ready to go with me… not just take me but go WITH me. From the moment we met he never let me believe for one second that he didn’t love me.”
She stopped and looked around. I tried to follow her gaze to see what had got her attention but could only see a young man, younger than me, sitting at a table about 30 feet away from us. Marie stared at him a moment and then looked back down as another petal fell. Again her lips mouthed a few short words. She looked up at me. Through me. It felt as if she was using her eyes to force her next words into my brain.
“I remember going to bed every night next to him and waking up in the morning. I remember the joy his presence brought me because I was lucky enough to find the perfect one for me and have him see the same in me. I can remember every Christmas, anniversary, birthday,” she hesitated, broke her gaze to look down but no petal moved, then returned, “I remember every day and night with Arthur.”
The tears forming in her eyes were bringing some from mine. Within moments the tears were streaming down her face. Her bottom lip quivered and the shaking of her hands caused more of the petals to fall. I reached my hand out and touched her shoulder.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
She composed herself as best she could but avoided looking at me. She looked at the man across the way and then back to the flowers as she placed them beside her. “Now when I go to see him I have to have a nurse explain to him who I am and why I am there. I have to meet him for the first time every day. For him, he acts like he’s making a new friend and enjoys the conversations. He enjoys telling me about his childhood and his old friends and the like; stories I’ve heard a million times before I’ve now heard a million times more. For him, it’s a new experience. For me, it’s a reminder of what I had and what I don’t. While I get to meet him and talk to him and be with him, I will never be able to be with my husband ever again. Not the man who WAS my husband. He is gone and with him… US. I am the one who remembers what we had and were and I have to keep it inside so that I can still enjoy the time I have left with him.”
Marie stood up and I joined her. She straightened her dress, and turned to me before saying her final parting words, “Why do I have to remember him if he doesn’t remember me?” With that she clasped my hand, kissed me on the cheek and left.
I stood there and watched her slowly make her way to a car that must’ve just pulled up. The faces of those inside told me they were kin. I knew Marie would be putting on her happy face and telling all about her time with her husband.
My curiosity again got the better of me so I walked over to the young man at the table. “Hello, my name’s William,” I said. “Mind if I join you?”