Don't Forget Me

by Victoria Stevens

  “Hey,” he said finally.

  “Hey,” she murmured, closing the distance between their lips. He kissed her back tenderly, hands holding her carefully, like this was too precious to break.

  Heart racing, Hazel broke away.

  “Hey,” she said, reaching up to hold on to his wrists. “What is this? What are we doing?”

  “Does it matter?”

  “Maybe. I’m leaving, Luca. I’m going home to England.”

  One day. Eventually. When the call comes.

  “Not yet,” he reminded her firmly, and this time when he kissed her, she didn’t stop him.

  * * *

  Hazel had suggested that she and Luca get everyone together for Sunday brunch at the Anchor the next day to tell them in person how things between them had changed. She worried all morning about how she was going to explain that somehow, without even realizing it, she and Luca had crossed the border from being friends to being friends who kissed underneath the stars.

  Fortunately, Maddie took one look at the way Luca guided Hazel through the restaurant to their table at the back and broke into a triumphant grin.

  “Oh thank God,” she said. “We thought you two were never going to get it together.”

  Luca and Hazel just looked at each other. Why had it taken the two of them so long to figure out what everybody else around them apparently already knew?

  They took their seats at the table, and Hazel braced herself for some mild teasing, but thankfully no one said anything more about her and Luca; instead, they started talking about all the ways that Hazel had turned out to be nothing like they were expecting when they found out she was English. She hadn’t had tea with the royal family, she wasn’t uptight or overly sarcastic, and she had pretty great dental hygiene.

  “Maybe it’s because I’m only half-English,” she said. “But still, I’m sorry to disappoint you.”

  “So does no one know the queen?” Hunter said.

  “How small do you think England is?”

  “Small enough.” He grinned. “Can we come visit, once you move back?”

  Luca’s hand tightened in her own underneath the tabletop. “I’d love nothing more,” she said sincerely, squeezing his fingers.

  “Did we live up to your expectations, then?” Maddie asked.

  “No. None of you ride a kangaroo to school.”

  “Too difficult to tame,” Red said, and Hazel laughed.

  “Honestly, the only thing I was disappointed about was the fact none of you surf,” she said. “Especially you, Hunter, because you look the part, like you just stepped off the board and—”

  “Surf?” Hunter cut her off.

  “Yes, surf! You know”—she stretched out her arms, demonstrating—“on a surfboard? Catching the waves out on the ocean? Isn’t that what you lot are supposed to do? You do live right by the sea…”

  “Hazel,” he said, leaning over to plant a big kiss on her forehead. “You’re brilliant.”

  She laughed. “Am I? Why?”

  “For being the one to figure me out,” he said happily. “Don’t you see? This is it! This has to be it! It makes so much sense. I love the water, I love being in the ocean, and Hazel said it herself, I even look like one!”

  “Hunter,” Maddie said, “what are you talking about?”

  “I’m going to be a surfer,” he said. “I’m going to learn how to surf, and just you wait—I’m going to be a natural at it too.”

  “You?” Maddie said in disbelief. “A surfer?”

  “Yeah. Don’t try and convince me otherwise, Mads. I have a really good feeling about this one.”

  Maddie, Luca, Red, and Hazel exchanged glances, and then Maddie sighed. “Okay, Hunter. You’re going to be a surfer.”

  41

  The first few weeks of the summer holidays passed in a blur of days at the beach and nights out with her friends and Luca, Luca, Luca. On Christmas Eve, Hazel and Graham went over to the Cawleys’ for a barbecue manned by Red and Marc, which carried on into the early hours of the morning, the two families drinking cocktails together out in the garden underneath the stars. On Christmas day, she and Graham stayed in by themselves and cooked a traditional English roast and exchanged gifts over dessert. It was peaceful, and relaxed, and easy. It felt like home.

  January had arrived, bringing with it an influx of gigantic, humid storms, and Graham went back to work full-time. He still made an effort to spend time with Hazel, though—whether that meant organizing his shifts to get some time off at the weekends, or taking a break from work to eat lunch with her at the Anchor before she went off to spend the afternoon with Luca or Red or the others.

  When she got back from one such late lunch in the second week of January, Luca was sitting on her front porch reading a book. He jumped up when he caught sight of her walking down the path toward him. “Hey!”

  “Hey,” she said. “I was going to call you. Have you been here long?”

  Luca tucked the book under his arm. “Not really. Thought I’d drop by and see if you wanted to watch a movie or something?”

  Hazel arrived at the porch. She stood right in front of him and gazed up at his face. He was so, so lovely in every way.

  “Hey,” he said again, softly, kissing her.

  “A movie sounds good,” Hazel said when he pulled away, and Luca took her hand and led her into the house.

  Graham had purchased a little television set for Hazel’s room so she could watch movies in bed at night when she couldn’t sleep. Hazel wasn’t sure he’d intended it to be used with Luca present—not that he’d set down any rules about having boys in her room. She figured he was just happy to see her happy.

  They watched one movie together, Crossfire, and then decided to put on another. They took a break in between to go downstairs to get drinks and snacks, and then set up camp on Hazel’s bed.

  “What’s Red doing today?” she asked Luca as he sorted out the DVD player.

  “He was in the garden painting when I left,” Luca said. “He’s still working on the bird piece.”

  “Is that the one with the—”

  Hazel broke off midsentence as her phone started vibrating in her pocket. She pulled it out with a frown, and then her mouth fell open. She stared down at the screen. It was a London number calling her. The hospital.

  She answered it hastily. “Hello?”

  “Is that Hazel?” a familiar voice asked—Dr. Wilson. Her mother’s doctor.

  “Yeah, it’s … it’s me. How is she?”

  Dr. Wilson coughed awkwardly. “Well, she’s been stable these past few months, but we were asked to get in contact if and when her condition changed—”

  “So it has? It’s improved?”

  “No, Hazel,” he said gently. “You mum has taken a turn for the worse. There’s really nothing more we can do for her now except make sure that she’s well looked after.”

  It took a moment for his words to register, but when they did she felt like she’d been punched in the stomach. Time seemed to stop. There’s really nothing more we can do for her now. Hazel had been waiting for this phone call since before she and Graham even left London—since she promised Dr. Wilson that she’d wait for him to get in touch with news that her mum’s condition had changed, instead of phoning all the time for updates the way she wanted to—but this was the last thing in the world that she wanted to hear.

  “Hazel?” Dr. Wilson prompted when she didn’t respond.

  “I have to go,” she said. “Tell her I love her, okay? I love her.”

  “Hazel, we need to—”

  She hung up before he could finish the sentence, even though she knew they had things to talk about, and slowly lowered the phone. Dr. Wilson’s words were still ringing in her head, an endless mantra of There’s really nothing more we can do for her now, There’s really nothing more we can do for her now, There’s really nothing more we can do for her now.

  Behind her, Luca let out a strained laugh.

  Hazel
whirled around to face him. She’d forgotten he was there, but now he was staring at her, his eyes wide with confusion, and oh God he was never supposed to hear that. He was never supposed to hear any of that; he was never supposed to know.

  “Hazel?” he said, voice wavering. “Who was that?”

  “Luca, I can explain.”

  “That’s not an answer,” he said flatly. “Who was it on the phone?”

  She could feel her heart pounding in her chest. She desperately wanted to lie, to deny everything, but she couldn’t do that to him. Not now. Not after everything. “It was the hospital.”

  “Who were you asking them about?” he said, but from the look on his face, she could tell that he already knew. “It was your mum, wasn’t it? But you—you asked if she was okay. Why would you ask that if she’s dead?”

  Her stomach dropped. “Luca…”

  He was silent for a long, heavy moment. Then, finally, “Is she dead?”

  “I…”

  “Hazel, please don’t lie to me.”

  “No,” she said, swallowing hard. “She’s not, but she—”

  “I’ve got to go.”

  “Luca, wait, please just let me—”

  He ignored her and stood from the bed, and Hazel jumped up after him as he headed for the door. She tried to stop him with a hand on the arm, to get him to stay for long enough for her to explain everything to him, but he shrugged her off like he couldn’t stand the thought of her touching him and walked out of the room.

  * * *

  No. No, no, no, this can’t be happening. Everything was falling to pieces around her, and she didn’t know how to stop it, couldn’t even think straight.

  With shaking fingers, Hazel found the number Dr. Wilson had just phoned from and called it back. The phone rang and rang and rang until finally there was a click that had Hazel feeling like she was about to burst into tears.

  “Hazel?” Dr. Wilson answered, clearly surprised. “Is everything okay?”

  “No,” she said. “Please, I … Can I just speak to her? Please?”

  “Hazel, your mother isn’t—”

  “I know,” she cut him off, and there were tears burning her eyes. “I know she’s sick and I know she isn’t going to get better but I miss her, and I just need … I need to hear her voice, I need to—”

  “Okay, okay,” he said. “Bear with me.”

  There were some muffled noises, the sounds of him making his way from his office down the corridor to her mother’s room, followed by a murmured conversation, and then, “Hello?”

  “Mum,” Hazel said breathlessly, clutching the phone to her ear. “It’s me. It’s Hazel.”

  “Hazel?”

  “Your daughter?”

  “Hazel,” she repeated, and Hazel might have been delirious, but she could have sworn that this time the name was colored with vague recognition. “Everything is … Everything’s jumbled.”

  “I know it is,” Hazel soothed. “I know you’re confused, but it’s going to be all right. You’re going to be fine, Mum, I promise.”

  “I don’t—”

  “I’m going to be there, okay?” she continued. “I’m going to be there. I’m coming for you, so you just hang in there, all right? Mum?”

  She was met with nothing but silence, a heavy, endless silence that seemed to stretch out between them.

  “… Mum?”

  “Hello?” her mother said finally, and something had changed in her voice, something had shifted, and Hazel could feel her stomach plummeting down. “Who’s there? Who am I speaking to?”

  “Mum,” Hazel said weakly. “It’s me. It’s Hazel.”

  “Hazel who?” she said, and Hazel closed her eyes, tears spilling down her cheeks.

  Dear Mum,

  I remember when they took you into the hospital. I was so scared, I didn’t know what to do. You were scared too, I could see it in your face. You had tears in your eyes when you looked at me and promised me it wouldn’t be forever. That you would come home and we would be a normal family again.

  Did you know it was a lie even then? Were you saying it to make me feel better, or yourself?

  Maybe you really did believe it. I know I did, for a short while. But naïveté doesn’t last forever.

  I miss you, Mum, but I remember.

  Love,

  Hazel

  42

  Hazel was sitting on the bottom step of the stairs when Graham got home from work, a packed suitcase by her feet.

  He did a double take when he saw her, expression clouding with confusion as he scrutinized the suitcase. He met her eye. “Hazel? What’s going on?”

  “Dr. Wilson called,” she said flatly. “She’s gotten worse.”

  “Oh,” Graham said. She didn’t have to clarify. He pulled the front door shut behind him, dropped his keys in the bowl by the door, and then walked slowly toward her like he was afraid she might bolt at any sudden movement. He came to a stop in front of her and gestured toward the suitcase. “And you were, what, going back to England to see for yourself?”

  She hung her head. “I spoke to her,” she mumbled. “I spoke to my mum for the first time in five months, and she didn’t know who I was.”

  “Hazel…”

  “And that’s … that’s okay, but I—I have to go, I have to—”

  “You can’t.” Graham cut her off, sitting beside her on the step. “You know how sick she is.”

  Before she could stop herself, she burst into tears again. His arm went around her shoulder without hesitation, holding her tight, keeping her safe—but she didn’t feel safe, not anymore. She just felt lost. Lost and muddled like her mother, all those miles away.

  “You don’t understand,” she managed to say through her tears. “I’ve got to get back there. I have to be with her. I have to make things better. I have to make it okay.”

  “Hazel, you can’t.” Graham held her by the shoulders, turned her to face him, and looked her straight in the eye. “I’m so sorry, love, but you can’t. You can’t fix her.”

  The words of truth, finally spoken out loud, hit Hazel hard. You can’t fix her. No matter how hard or how long you try, or how much you sacrifice, or how many times you pray. You cannot be the one to bring her back. You cannot be the one to make her better.

  Hazel shrugged off his arm. She’d fought for this for too many years to give up now. “But I have to try.”

  “You have,” he said softly. “Oh honey, you have tried. I know that, I see that, but this is out of your control. Out of anyone’s control. She’s ill, Hazel. There’s nothing you can do for her now, over there or from over here.”

  She wiped away the tears with the back of her hand. “So I’m supposed to just stay here and pretend everything’s okay?”

  “No.” Graham closed his eyes and shook his head. “Or maybe yes. I don’t know. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. I just think, right now, it’s time you did something for yourself. Worried about yourself. I know you love her, but you deserve more than what she can give you. You deserve a real home. A real family. To live with someone who cares about you.”

  “She cares about me!” Hazel said furiously.

  “You’ve just said yourself that she barely knows who you are!” he said. “What are you going to spend the next five years doing? Sitting by her bedside in the hospital letting your life pass you by as hers slips away?”

  “It’d be worth it.”

  “No,” he said gently. “It wouldn’t. She wouldn’t even know you were there most of the time. It would be a waste.”

  “All my life, it’s been her and me. She was the only one I could rely on, and now she’s all alone. That’s not right! I can’t let it be that way.”

  “What you had to go through in England was unfair and wrong, but—”

  “Then where were you?”

  Graham blinked at the sudden sharpness in her voice. “What?”

  “Where were you when we were struggling? When we needed
help?” He didn’t say anything; he couldn’t because he had no defense, not to this, and so she pressed on. “You were never around. I didn’t even know your name until you were on the flight over! That’s unfair! That’s wrong!”

  “Hazel…”

  She shook her head and went to stand up, but he stopped her with a hand on her arm.

  “I think it’s time we talked,” he said resignedly, his green eyes filled with sadness.

  Hazel felt all the fight draining from her body. She was too exhausted to argue any longer. She took a deep breath and nodded once.

  * * *

  After ducking into his office to grab something, Graham followed Hazel to the beach, and they sat down on the sand side by side just like she and Red had done so many nights before. Neither of them spoke for a long time, despite his promise that they would talk. Maybe, like her, Graham was trying to form sentences in his head, trying to figure out a way to say seventeen years’ worth of words.

  “You had your bags packed ready to go,” he said finally. “But you didn’t leave. You could’ve taken a taxi to the airport, but you didn’t. You waited for me. Why? Were you waiting to say goodbye? Or were you waiting for me to stop you?”

  Hazel stared at her hands where they were clasped together in her lap. Why hadn’t she left? Five months ago she would’ve walked straight out the door without looking back, but things had changed since then. She’d changed since then. Five months ago she had nothing to leave behind.

  “You know, people told me I was crazy for keeping the house after your mum left,” Graham said then, and Hazel looked over at him, listening. “Because it was way too big for just me and the mortgage was a handful, and it had been ours. I kept meaning to put it up for sale, but life kept getting in the way.” He looked wistfully over his shoulder. “I guess I just couldn’t let her go that completely.”

  She followed his gaze to where his big white house stood tucked behind the foliage. “You and Mum lived here?”

  He just nodded. “Your mother and I had been engaged for a year when we moved in. We were in way over our heads, both working long hours to make enough to cover the mortgage payments. She was doing extra shifts at the hospital, and things at the Anchor were just starting to take off, and we were in the middle of making preparations for the wedding. It was tough, but it was fun, too. I thought everything was going great, that she was as excited about building our future together as I was.”