When I Remember You

by Rosa Sophia

  Roberta lets out a soft titter. “You think too much.” She finishes her sandwiches and packs them into a small portable cooler. “Come on, walk me out to my car. I gotta go.” She glances at her watch. “I love night driving, but it’s gonna be a long haul.”

  Outside, I hug Roberta goodbye, and the moment reminds me of leaving Kill Devil Hills behind. “I’ll come visit you soon,” I promise.

  “Good.” She pulls back and jabs me in the chest with her index finger. “Or else.”

  “Right.” I roll my eyes, smirking.

  Jenny gives her a hug. “It was awesome meeting you, Roberta. I hope you’ll come back and visit again soon.”

  “I will, Jenny. Thanks for having me.” As she opens her car door and climbs inside, I think I see a tear in her eye. She wipes it away hurriedly, as if hoping we won’t notice. “See you later!”

  We watch her depart, and Jenny ushers me back toward the building. “Wanna have a beer?”

  I consider it for a moment, then nod. “Sure.” The trauma of my mother’s drinking problems is slowly receding into the past. Finally, I can have a drink again without enduring the guilt of my memories pressing down on my shoulders. Inside, we pop the tops off a couple of lagers, and clink the bottles together.

  “Cheers!”

  I sip my drink, realizing I feel sad. Jenny picks up on it, asks what I’m thinking. “It’s Wes,” I admit sullenly. “I really like him. I’ve always wanted it to work out, but it never seems to. What should I do?”

  “Just let it go, girl. Let the universe handle it for you.”

  I scoff. “I guess we’ll see how that goes,” I reply, not at all convinced.

  Chapter 13

  When I asked Wes why he had decided to stay in the area for so long instead of returning to Cocoa Beach, he told me he was doing some writing. He’d taken a room in the same hotel we once spent a night in, and was working on his next novel, set in Jupiter. He said being here made it easier to write. Especially since he had separated himself from his family in Cocoa. He didn’t want to be immersed in grieving with them. He wanted to be alone to grieve. I couldn’t blame him.

  “How’s the new book coming?” I ask him as we step out of the sun and into the shade.

  “It’s okay. I feel like I have to force it sometimes, but somehow it’s coming along.”

  “That happens to me when I’m writing.” The admission leaves silence between us, and I feel as if I should’ve said something more. I’m not sure what he’s expecting me to say. Then it occurs to me he’s trying to muster the courage to speak.

  “I hope you realize what a help you’ve been to me,” he finally says as he climbs onto the nearest bench and stands on it. At the overlook at Juno Dunes, we can see the ocean where we stand on the small hill. We’re surrounded by sand and scrub brush. The sky is pale blue, a shade lighter than the sea, as the heat sinks heavily against my skin.

  I climb up and stand beside Wes. “What do you mean?”

  “I can’t go back there. Not yet. Being here is freeing, because I don’t know as many people here. In Cocoa Beach, I know everybody.” He pauses, glancing at me from behind his sunglasses. “Plus, I feel like I can write easier here.”

  “Why not move here?” A split second after suggesting it, I recall the old piece of advice that says you shouldn’t make any major changes so soon after someone has passed.

  He shakes his head. “Nah. I have to be there for my dad. I have to go back soon, Nina. In a day or two.”

  The way he looks at me, I can tell there’s more. “What are you saying, Wes?”

  “Nothing…yet.” Before I can question him further, he jumps back to the ground and says, “Come on. Let’s take a walk.” After winding down the path and through the scrub brush, we make our way to the ocean. The cooling breezes calm us both as we meander along the surf.

  ***

  At work that afternoon, I consider our conversations while I shelve books. Lynn gives me a new shipment of bestsellers to put up. Opening the box, I come across a few copies of a new arrival, but it’s one that is familiar to me. The author’s name: Wes Ladner.

  Someday this will be me. One day, I’ll be shelving my own books with the other bestsellers. Wes admitted to me that I’ve been a great help to him after his mother’s death. But I haven’t told him what an inspiration he’s been to me. How his passion and intensity has driven me to write again, to finally send my work out to publishers.

  “Nina.” I startle at the sound of Lynn calling my name.

  “Yeah?”

  “Sorry, did I scare you?”

  “Only a little bit.” I quickly shelve the books and hurry up to the front counter. “What’s up?”

  “I just need your help rearranging things for the book signing later.” Lynn glances at the clock. “We’re running a little late.”

  “Sure.” I get to work, helping her drag the folding table out from the back room. The entire time, my mind is preoccupied. The work helps, and I let my thoughts wander.

  When I arrive home that evening, I trudge tiredly from my car and check the mail. There’s never anything except junk. I slam the box shut, sorting through the stack as I walk to the apartment. I freeze, staring at the envelope in my hand.

  It’s from a publisher. Rather than going through an agent, I queried a few smaller publishing houses, hoping something would come of it. This was my answer.

  I rip the paper open and pull out the letter, expecting another rejection. Startled by the unexpected contents of the envelope, I squeal, then race into the apartment, surprising Jenny in the kitchen where she’s preparing a chicken dinner. I shove the paper at her.

  “Jeez, Nina, what the hell is with you?”

  “Read it,” I gasp, nearly out of breath.

  She glances down and reads aloud. “Dear Ms. Archer, we have reviewed your manuscript and…”

  Her eyes widen. “Oh, shit. They accepted your book!”

  I nod fervently. I can’t think of anything to say.

  “Nina, I’m so proud of you.” She wraps her arms around me, hugging me until I can barely breathe. “I’m cracking open a bottle of wine. We’re gonna celebrate!”

  “I wish Roberta were here.” I reach into the cupboard and pull out two of the real crystal wine glasses Jenny’s parents gave her for a holiday one year. After we fill them with merlot and clink them together, the clear and musical ring resonates throughout the small kitchen.

  “Congratulations, my friend,” Jenny says, smirking before she takes a sip. “You’ll remember me when you’re famous, right?”

  “Oh, sure.” My remark is edged with sarcasm. “You can be my maid when I’m at the top.” I step into the living room, and she follows. Flopping down on the couch, we both giggle. I’ll call my mom and tell her about it later on. For now, I’m going to enjoy the overwhelming sense of joy stemming from the fact that I’ve finally reached my goal.

  Chapter 14

  Present Day

  After I find my sandals, we walk in the dark. No lights. Nothing to guide us. We step quietly along the surf. From the corner of my eye, I spot a blanket. Movement. I hear soft moans, whimpers. There’s a couple nearby making love, and it reminds me of the time Wes and I spent together before he went to Australia, before he went away to live his life and explore the parts of the world I’ll probably never see.

  “Why does it have to be different, Wes?” I really think we had something special, but he seems distant. Lost. Like I was once.

  “Mom’s dead,” he says. “Everything’s changed. I have to stay in Cocoa most of the time with Dad. I have to look after him, at least for a little bit. We live too far apart.” He stops walking, and I sense him brushing against me. “There’s too much going on.”

  “But times like this are when you need…friends. When you need them the most.”

  He’s quiet for a moment before clearing his throat. “We’ll always be friends, Nina. But that’s all we’ll be. You know that. You’ve sensed that
we grew apart after I left. Everything’s different now.” He takes my hand as we walk, which seems in direct opposition to what he’s just said.

  “I don’t understand why we had those dreams, if nothing was to come of them.”

  “But something did come of them, Nina. We can’t have a relationship right now. I’m just not in that position in life. And I don’t think you are either.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “You’re still exploring who you are. Everything with your mom. You’ve been through a hard time. Sometimes we have to make these explorations on our own.”

  “I think you’re right, but I don’t want you to be right.” I’m saddened, but I feel the truth in his words.

  “Everything’s different now.”

  Walking along the beach, we lose track of time. The stars brighten our path as the clouds part, but I feel as if the night is only getting darker.

  “Wes, there’s something I didn’t tell you.” Thinking of the letter I got in the mail, I’m overcome with excitement.

  “What’s up?”

  “My first book was accepted by a publisher in New York City.”

  Wes pulls me into a tight hug. “That is amazing! Congratulations.” He spins me around, both of us laughing. He asks for details, so I explain the process, and the stipulations of the contract. The publisher is a small press, but a highly respected company that has been around for decades. I hope to be as successful as Wes, whose writing career I cannot help but envy.

  We turn and head back the way we came, having strolled a long distance.

  “I’m heading back to Cocoa tomorrow, but I want you to keep me posted about your release date, because we are definitely going to have a party.”

  “Oh yeah?”

  “Damn right. With wine, liquor, beer, food—”

  “Will anyone know the party is for my book release, or will they be too wasted?”

  He chuckles, clapping a hand on my back. “They’ll know. You’ve never attended one of my world-class parties before. Wait until you see it. The best place to have it would be at the house in Cocoa, and my mom can—” Wes stills for a moment, tensing beside me. “I…I almost forgot. It was like she was still here…for a second.”

  I squeeze his hand before giving him a hug and kissing his cheek. “She is still here, Wes. And she will never leave you. You’ll always remember her.”

  I think of my dad, and when I arrive home that night I go into the bathroom and look in the mirror.

  “Whenever you miss me, just look in the mirror,” Dad had said in my dream.

  I stare into my own eyes, and it almost frightens me how alike we are.

  When I sleep, I dream of him. He’s sitting in the living room when I walk out into the bright sunlight. It’s shining upon him, the dust motes in the air sparkling as they float toward the ground.

  “Hi, Dad.” I embrace him tightly, and he smells the way I remember, like mint with a hint of coconut-scented soap.

  “I’m proud of you, little girl.” His eyes brim with tears as he holds me at arm’s length, staring at me as if attempting to memorize my features. “Never forget that. Never forget how much I love you.”

  The dream fades and I wake up feeling as if he is still there. Hoping he’ll hear me, I whisper, “I’ll never forget you, Dad. I’ll always remember you.”

  The sun shines between the parted curtains, and I know I’ll never be alone.

  ***

  After shelving all the books at the bookstore, there’s nothing left for me to do. I stand at the front counter, staring at a display advertising an upcoming book signing. I imagine Wes’s name on the sign, but I know he’s gone already. My phone buzzes with a text message.

  I learned so much from you. Don’t forget I’m always here if you need me.

  I stare at the message for a long time, thinking back to what Jenny and Roberta were saying. I’m grateful for everything I’ve had with Wes, though it was short-lived. He brought me into his heart and his bed, albeit temporarily, and I learned I could be intimate. I discovered I could enjoy sex without feeling committed to anything else, without feeling terrified. I was able to be with him without flashing back to when I was fifteen, a rape victim, a girl who believed too deeply in her own worthlessness.

  I always wished my dad had been around to protect me from harm, to protect me from the older man who hurt me when I was too young to understand intimacy. But he wasn’t there. And I made it through. I survived, learned, and now I’m doing better than surviving. I’m enjoying life.

  “Nina?”

  I startle out of my thoughts, gasping. “Wha—”

  “Did I scare you?” Lynn places a hand tentatively on my shoulder, tilting her head and peering at me.

  “Sorry, I was just lost in thought.”

  “I can tell.” She smirks. “Is it about that nice looking guy who was here the other day?”

  “Wes? Sort of. It’s over, though.”

  “What?” she asks, seeming shocked. “I could tell you two had chemistry.”

  “We did, but his mom just died, and he had to go back to Cocoa Beach. He can’t do a long-distance relationship, but we’re still friends.”

  “I’m so sorry to hear that.” Lynn brushes her curly blonde hair past her shoulder with long manicured fingernails. “You never know about the future, right?”

  I nod, half listening. “Sometimes people just come into our lives temporarily, so we can learn from each other. I think we all learn from each other. I don’t believe in coincidence,” I add, thinking of the dreams. “Everything happens for a reason.”

  “I agree.” She pulls a stack of paper out of a drawer. “Now, I need you to do this…for a very good reason, indeed. Our shelves need new labels. Just make the new ones, and slip them into the plastic holders.”

  “Got it,” I affirm, nodding. “Anything else?”

  “That’s it for now.” She glances at her watch. “We’re closing in twenty minutes.”

  “I’ll have it done in ten.” I grab the paper and start making labels. Soon, I have them all created and ready to go. All it took was some typing and printing. Stepping out onto the floor, I make my way in between the stacks and tall shelves. Venturing farther in, I relish the scent of paper and binding glue, thinking how easily I could hide back here in these shelves. I could sit down and read, but I’m working. Some people hate their jobs, but mine is a privilege. The only thing better than sniffing books is writing them.

  I pick up The Undiscovered Self by Carl Jung and think back to the day I learned about Wes’s interest in the work of the eminent psychotherapist. I open the book, stick my nose into the middle of it, and take a deep whiff.

  “That must be a good one,” someone says. “But I have to say I prefer the way Fritz Perls smells.”

  Startled, I glance up to discover a man of average height, whose large glasses and thinning brown hair make him look older, though I suspect he’s not much older than me. Clad in a colorful Hawaiian shirt and khaki shorts, he’s holding a book on psychotherapy that looks mind-bogglingly dull. However, I find myself intrigued. “Fritz Perls? Really?” I ask.

  “Yeah. I think Gestalt therapy is really fascinating.”

  Soon, we’re chatting away, and when Lynn flashes the lights in the store—indicating it is time to close—I realize I haven’t finished putting up a single label.

  The young man extends his hand, and we shake. “I’m Andy.”

  “Nina. Nice to meet you.”

  His brown eyes crinkle at the corners, and his smile is deep and genuine. “Nina, would you like to have a cup of coffee with me?”

  “Sure. Why not?”

  I shelve Carl Jung before leaving with him, all the while thinking of a famous quote of Jung’s which has always stuck with me:

  The meeting of two personalities is like the contact of two chemical substances: If there is any reaction, both are transformed.

  Dreams can be foretelling, but they can also change. And the
more I learn about life, the more I realize every dream—every moment—is of my own making. My own creation. I can make a dream come true. I can also let a dream go if it no longer serves me. All I have to do is intend every thought, every manifestation, into reality.

  While Andy and I sit in a café in Juno Beach sipping our drinks, we watch the sun set. As the last bit of light dissipates, and I relax against the back of my chair, a single thought consumes me: I am transformed.

  The End

  ***Sneak Peek***

  Chapter 1

  When Amalie ran, the world disappeared. She counted each step, breathing in as her right foot hit the pavement, and breathing out when her left foot landed. Her dark hair was pulled back in a high ponytail, and she wore a tank top and black running shorts. She ran down side streets and past houses, waving at neighbors she recognized.

  I’m going to miss this neighborhood.

  Even though she had a few odd neighbors in her apartment building, North Palm Beach was a pleasant place to be. As the village motto boasted, it was the best place to live under the sun. There’d been a recording on her voicemail earlier. The building was under foreclosure and Amalie would have to leave soon. She had known this was going to happen, but she hadn’t been able to prepare. Her savings were modest and she wouldn’t be able to afford the first and last month’s rent at a new apartment. She fretted, her stomach tied in knots. A run always helped her think.

  She headed down Prosperity Farms Road and stopped on the small bridge that crossed the Earman River, a tributary of the Intracoastal Waterway. She panted slightly as the sweat dripped down her back. Leaning against the bridge, she looked over and saw a school of fish pass by. As her luck would have it, the fish weren’t the only creatures in the water. A shadow beneath the surface caught her attention, and there was a quick splash.