Forget Me (Hampton Harbor)

by Jess Petosa

  "The Grace Cafe," Charles says. He climbs out of the car and I follow.

  I can hear seagulls over the bay, and the water lapping against the dock. Charles walks me to the front of the building, and I see that the Grace Cafe practically sits in the bay, with only a small boardwalk separating its lawn from the water. There is a small wooden dock that juts out twenty yards into the water. A small white boat is parked beside it with Grace Café written on the side in large block letters.

  "A bit of advertisement when we take a ride around the bay," Charles says with a wink. "Follow me this way."

  I look up at the cafe as we step in front of it. It is a white one-story building, with yellow shutters and a cobble stone path that leads patrons to the main entrance. To the left of the building is a small outdoor eating area, with only a few small tables.

  Charles leads me into the cafe, and I find the inside to be in a similar theme as the outside, white and yellow. The tables are arranged in a neat pattern, and there are swinging doors in the back that most likely lead to and from the kitchen. A counter lines the back wall and two waitresses work quickly behind it, grabbing orders from a small window on the back wall and filling plastic glasses with water.

  Breakfast at the cafe starts at six, but Marie said I should arrive at seven, when the real crowd comes. Charles introduces me to a tall redhead named Amy. She'll be training me for my first day, and my first double-shift.

  "Way to jump right in," Amy says. "We aren't too busy just yet, so it will be a good week to train. The real crowds start to pour in closer to July."

  Another waitress covers Amy’s tables for a moment while she walks me around the cafe. She shows me where the glasses are behind the counter, and the fountain machine in the corner. She shows me where the clean saucers, cups, and silverware are kept. There are salad dishes and soup bowls for lunch and dinner, and we're expected to dish those food items out on our own. Amy shows me where to place my orders and introduces me to the cooks in the back. The staff seems friendly enough.

  Last, Amy introduces me to an old lady with black hair pulled up in a tight bun.

  "This is our manager, Shelley. She runs the cafe for Charles and Marie."

  Shelley shakes my hand and grunts a hello before pushing past me and into the back office.

  Well, almost the entire staff seems friendly.

  "Have you waited tables before?" Amy asks me.

  I don't know.

  "No," I respond, looking at the floor.

  "No problem," Amy says cheerily. "You'll get it in no time. You may want to take a menu home tonight so you can memorize the breakfast, lunch, and dinner options. You'll also need to know the daily specials."

  My mind suddenly feels overwhelmed, but I barely have time to register that thought because Amy is moving and I am following. The morning flies by with plates of eggs, bacon, toast, and refills of coffee. By lunch my feet are throbbing but we keep moving, stopping mid-afternoon for a break. Marie pops by the cafe to check in on me, and is then gone before the dinner rush. The afternoon melds into the evening and it is almost ten o'clock by the time Shelley locks the door and flips off the OPEN sign.

  I collapse into a nearby booth and rest my chin on my hands. "I could sleep for days. And I'm pretty sure I smell like the lobster special."

  Amy slides into the seat across from me. She laughs. "Get used to smelling like the daily specials. Marie won't have you working doubles for a few weeks, unless you pick one up on your own, so don't worry too much."

  "I feel like I've run a marathon," I say. Maybe I have at some point.

  "Marie asked me to give you a ride home tonight. Let’s clean up and get out of here."

  Amy knows how to get to Charles and Marie's house, and drops me off soon after we finish cleaning up her section. I drag myself into the house and notice that Charles and Marie are still awake. I find them reading in the den and I check the clock on the wall.

  Eleven o'clock.

  "Still up?" I ask, poking my head into the room.

  Marie looks up from her book. "We just wanted to make sure your day went okay. Normally we’re in bed by nine. Us old folk like to turn in early, and rise with the sun."

  I grin. "Everything went fine. Amy is really nice, and she taught me a lot. I didn’t think I’d be this tired."

  Marie laughs. “I waited tables when we first opened the cafe. I do not miss having sore feet each night.”

  I feel bad that they waited up for me. It feels too personal, this relationship I'm starting to form with them.

  "Thanks. For the job..." I add, knowing that I owe them everything right now.

  Charles smiles over his book. "You're welcome."

  I hurry up the stairs, anxious to change out of my clothes and take a hot shower. My training starts at eleven tomorrow, and I'll be glad to have some time to sleep in. I grab pajamas and head to the bathroom, turning on the faucet. I let the warm water wash over me, hoping the strawberry shampoo in the shower can wash away the smell of lobster, and maybe help open my mind. Unfortunately, I remember nothing new, other than just how much I enjoy hot showers.

  CHAPTER THREE

  "The man in Heather’s section keeps staring at me," I whisper to Amy as I help her gather drinks for our table of eight. "Table three, I think."

  Amy finishes filling a glass with water and casually turns around, grabbing straws from under the counter. When she turns back she has a big grin on her face. "That's Will." Her voice sings a song when she says his name.

  "Should that mean something to me?" I ask.

  "No, I guess not." She smirks at me. "He comes in almost every day for either breakfast or lunch. His parents own Davey & Sons Boating Company, and half of the boardwalk real estate space in the harbor. When he isn't doing business, he is out there with his shirt off, waxing the boats or cleaning the docks..."

  "Amy." I snap my fingers. "Stop before you drool in someone's water."

  She laughs and picks up the tray. "Besides, he is probably just staring because you are new. The only new people we get in Hampton Harbor are tourists. Not many people stay."

  I don't tell her that I may not be staying. Someday I’ll remember who I am, and I may realize that I have a life I need to return to. I feel no urge to discover either of those things, so for now I’ll attempt to fit in like a local.

  We take the drinks to one of our tables, and Amy has me take their orders. I do as she taught me, writing down details until I can remember the seat numbers. For instance, the man on the end is wearing a red shirt, the girl next to him has a yellow hat, and the girl next to her has on a pink Nike shirt. I turn in the orders to Eddie, our main cook for today, and lean against the counter.

  "Will is looking at you again," Amy says. "Maybe you should go introduce yourself."

  "And say what?" I take a sip of my water and place it back under the counter. "I noticed you were staring at me and thought I would introduce myself."

  Amy shrugs. "It's a start."

  I shake my head and grab my order pad. A new table is seated in our section and it’s time to get back to work.

  Will leaves shortly after my conversation with Amy, and I allow myself to get caught up in the rest of my shift. On Tuesdays, at least until July, the cafe closes at nine so we are finished a bit earlier tonight. After our section is cleaned up, Amy plops down in a booth with one of the bussers and starts a lengthy conversation about a new movie in theaters. I let myself out through the back door and head around to the bay side of the cafe. I walk out onto the dock, careful to look for loose rope. Charles and Marie have hung solar lanterns every few feet, and the effect creates a well-lit path that disappears straight into the bay. Sitting down at the end of the dock, I cross my legs under me and look out over the water, which is a deep bluish gray in the twilight.

  "You don't remember me, do you?"

  The voice is so close that I startle, and if I wasn’t sitting down, I may have jumped straight into the bay. I stand quickly and turn around. />
  Will.

  For a moment his words plant fear in me. It roots in my stomach and buds up into my heart, causing the blood to pound in my ears. Then I remember that Amy knows Will too, and he isn't someone from the past. As much as I want my memories back, I find that I fear them.

  "Should I?" I ask.

  Will cocks his head. "I was there the night you fell."

  My mouth hangs ajar but I shut it again before speaking. "Oh?"

  Will crosses his arms, an amused expression on his face. "I carried you from this dock, almost that exact spot actually, and to Charles’ car."

  I look him over. "You carried me?"

  He throws back his head and laughs. "Should I feel insulted? You aren't exactly heavy."

  I look down at my own body, as though I've never seen it before. He's right. I'm thin, too thin, as Marie would say. She has been trying to 'fatten me up' and I've had no qualms about eating the food she puts in front of me.

  "Well, thanks," I say awkwardly.

  I'm not sure what else he might be expecting from me.

  "So you really don't remember?" he asks.

  "Nothing," I say truthfully, but of course the word carries double meaning. It feels good to get it out, to answer that question honestly. I know that he is asking about the night of my fall, and therefore I am deceiving him slightly, but I need this more than he knows.

  He steps forward and extends his hand to me. "Will."

  "I know," I say too quickly. His eyes widen and he smiles. I grasp how my words sound and hurry to recover. "Amy was telling me about a few of the regulars that come into the cafe every week. She said it would be a good idea to know names if I'm going to be working here for awhile."

  "So you are sticking around?" His question is sincere.

  I just nod. His eyes flick down to my nametag and then back up to my face.

  "Jane," he says. My fake name.

  I can’t think of how to respond so I do something dim-witted and blurt out the first words that come to mind.

  "If you stop in tomorrow, you should sit in our section," I say. "Amy plans to give me complete control of the order pad."

  "I don't know, I've been eating at the Grace Cafe for twenty-five years and I don't think I've ever changed my routine. I sit in the same booth and order the same meal each time. It might be hard to break habit.”

  "Way to put on the pressure," I say with a laugh. "I understand your hesitancy... if you want to be boring."

  I say the last part under my breath and step around him, knowing I have a huge grin on my face. It feels normal to joke around with him. With anyone.

  "Did you just call me boring?" Will catches up with me.

  "Just making an observation," I say.

  Will stops and I do the same, turning to face him. He has his hands shoved into the pocket of his jeans, and his eyes are narrowed in concentration. The cafe lights are still on, casting a yellow glow over his face. I can see why Amy got a dreamy look in her eyes when she spoke of him. Will is gorgeous. He has a square jaw, chiseled cheeks, and lines of muscles pushing through the sleeves of his shirt. His lower half is lean, and I know that his upper body must get a good work out on the docks. His dark hair is long, touching the tops of his ears, and it threatens to fall into his eyes. Eyes that are a dark blue, just like mine.

  I've gone from returning his glare to gawking, and Will knows it. The corner of his mouth pulls up into a smile.

  "See you tomorrow, Jane." He turns and falls in stride with the small crowd of people walking the boardwalk at this time of night.

  I shiver. Suddenly my t-shirt and shorts aren't enough. I hurry around the building and back inside, hoping that Amy is done with her flirting so that I can catch a ride home.

  Home.

  It’s what Marie has asked me to call their house while I live there. I’m giving the word a try, but it feels fake when it settles into my thoughts and falls off of my lips. Maybe because I feel like a fake, pretending to be a girl named Jane when I really know nothing about myself. I know that time is running short on telling them the truth, because it won’t be long before the truth finds a way to make itself known.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  When I wake up on Wednesday morning, Charles is already gone and Marie is waiting for me in the kitchen. She has her purse on her lap and car keys in her hand. I freeze on the bottom step, thinking that maybe they've discovered my secret. Marie is going to tell me to gather my things and get out, or she is going to drive me to the police station. Is lying about losing your memory a crime?

  "Charles and I are giving you the day off," Marie says and I can suddenly move again. "I'm taking you shopping in Bangor."

  Shopping. Another word my mind recognizes. It stores the word, giving me images of the idea of shopping. Of course, I get no flashes of a time I've been shopping myself.

  "Oh," I say uncomfortably. "You don’t..."

  Marie holds up her hand and I stop talking. "I know I don't have to do anything, but I want to," she says.

  She is smiling at me. Her eyes crinkle, wrinkles form around her mouth, and I know that I never had a chance.

  "Let me change," I say. I’m dressed in the same shorts from last night, but a new white shirt. Marie put several of them in my closet after my first day at the cafe.

  I run up to my room and put on clean shorts. Shorts that do not smell like the lobster special. I throw on a lightweight, black shirt that I found in my bag and grab cash from underneath the mattress. Amy split tips with me the past two days, and even though it isn't much, I feel like I should bring some of my own money with me. I had been planning on giving it all back to Charles and Marie, something I'll need to talk to them about soon.

  "Bangor is about an hour from here," Marie says as she pulls out of the drive and onto the main road. "But it’s the closest shopping we have."

  We drive in the opposite direction of town, following a winding road through the heavy cover of trees. The road curves through a National Park, so every mile or so there is a brown sign with yellow lettering, signaling to tourists that a new stop is coming up.

  Bike trails. Canoeing. Hiking. Pavilions.

  Every now and then I get a peek at the water through the tress. The sun is out and by the humidity in the air just this morning, I can tell that it is going to be a warm day.

  We go over a large bridge, leaving the island and entering what Marie refers to as the mainland.

  Once we are over the bridge Marie resumes conversation.

  "The few items of clothing you brought are not going to last you long," Marie says to me. "We need to get you some proper outfits for summer, and start looking ahead to fall. The boutiques in Hampton Harbor carry pricey items, so it’s best to do it all at the mall in Bangor."

  Uncomfortable words bite at my tongue. My throat feels thick and for a moment I panic at the thought that it might be closing. Marie talks about my time here as though it’s indefinite. Will I really still be here in the fall?

  "Charles and I had a daughter," Marie says suddenly. I immediately notice that she uses the past tense.

  “We had trouble getting pregnant," she continues. I’m glad that she is using words in a time when I can't seem to. "We tried for three years, they didn’t have the same medical advancements that young couples can take advantage of now. We had about given up. I had a routine blood test at a doctor’s visit and he called the next day to tell me the good news. Nine months later our daughter was born. We named her Grace. I had to have a hysterectomy from the high-risk labor, so we knew that she was our one and only."

  Suddenly I know that this conversation is going to a place I'm not sure I want to visit.

  "Grace left Hampton Harbor as soon as she turned eighteen. She was such an angry girl. She fought so hard against us, and wanted so bad to be as far from us as possible." Marie's voice cracks. "She lives in the Midwest now, and hasn't been home in over twenty years. It's one of the reasons we have lanterns going down the dock in front of the cafe. I
t sounds cheesy, but I like to think that they light the way home. To let her know that if she ever does want to come back, we are here waiting for her."

  "Why are you telling me this?" I ask. I notice that my voice sounds unsteady.