by Jess Petosa
Each time we are on the brink of something, something that I can't recall. As I bring my body closer to Jason's, I know that there may be only one way to recover those memories fast. Otherwise, I may need to wait for them to return. At another time, I might say this isn’t worth it, but tonight my emotions are raw. I feel for Jason everything that Melissa did.
My hands travel into Jason's hair, but it is too short for me to curl around my fingers.
I could curl Will's hair around my fingers.
Jason's hands are both on my thighs now, and he is pulling me into his lap. Our bodies are melding together, and its apparent just how much Jason wants me.
He pulls back suddenly, and we are both breathing hard. His eyes are even darker now, and his neck is red and his lips are swollen. I'm sure I look the same.
"What are you trying to forget?" He asks me, and I'm thrown off guard.
I scoot out of his lap and as close to the opposite edge of the bed as I can. "Why did you ask me that?"
"Because you only kiss me like that when you are trying to forget something. A fight with your mother, a fight with Beth, a bad day... so what are you trying to forget?"
I just stare at him and watch the curves of his mouth draw down and into frown.
"Or who?" His voice is low now.
I hold up my hands.
"Don't go there, Jason. Please."
"WHO, Mel?" His voice is louder now.
I scramble out of the bed and grab my phone from the dresser.
"I'm going to sleep downstairs. This was a bad idea." I shut the door behind me and hurry down the hall, hoping he doesn't follow me. As my luck would have it I hear the door open and his heavy footsteps on the wood floor.
"Melissa," he shouts after me, using my full name for the first time since I've been back.
Something in his voice scares me. Scares Melissa.
Instinct tells me to keep moving, the same instinct that told me to stay in Maine, and I listen. I'm out the door for the second time today, and now I'm running. I’m running through the streets in my bare feet, ignoring the cuts and scratches from gravel and twigs. I’m running as far as I can from my home. From that house, from Jason, and from anything that reminds me of Melissa.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
"Hello?"
I take in the sound of his voice and close my eyes, trying to calm my breathing before I talk.
"Will..."
"Jane?" Just the sound of that name on his lips brings fresh tears to my eyes.
I ran to the elementary school, where I’m now sitting on a swing, moving back and forth slowly. Jason didn't follow me out of the house, or if he did, he went in a different direction. I keep expecting his car to pull into the parking lot, and if it does, I'm not sure what I'll do.
"Jane?" He says my name again and I realize that I haven't responded.
"It's me," I finally say.
"Why are you calling?" I would be hurt by his question if he had said it harsher, but I can hear the worry and concern in his voice. "Did something happen?"
I'm crying and I hear Will pull away from the phone and say something to someone else. His parents? Brother? A date?
"Jane, what's wrong?" He asks.
"I miss you," I blurt through the tears. "So much."
I hear him sigh and then he is silent for what feels like an eternity.
"Jane... I...."
"No," I say. "Don't tell me that things are complicated, and that you can't do this, and that you need to go. Please Will. I just need to talk to you, just for a few minutes. I need to hear your voice."
"Okay," is all he says and then, "So where did you end up?"
He probably has no details of what happened to me after I left Hampton Harbor, because I doubt my mom would have given any to her parents. I did tell Marie a few things, but she must not have told Will.
"I'm in Clinton Hills, Indiana." I've managed to stop the tears and I can speak clearly now. “I’m officially living in the middle of a corn field.”
I tell him what I know and what I've remembered. I tell him about how I teach Kindergarten and he doesn't seem as surprised as I was. I tell him about the places and people I've remembered, and I tell about my mom and how we are at a standstill. I tell him about Beth and everything we’ve done together since my return. It doesn't take long, but it feels good to get it out and share with someone who doesn't already know all of this. It’s all new information for him, just like it felt for me when I first recalled it.
"What about your husband?" Will asks when I stop talking.
Leave it to him to be so bold.
"He's...." I'm not sure what to say but this is Will, and I owe him the truth. "He's kind and helpful. The more I talk with him, the more I remember, and so we spend time each day going over our past. He’s a teacher too, and a baseball coach."
"Are you happy?"
The question catches me off guard.
"I don't know what I am," I tell him. "I can't seem to be Melissa or Jane. I feel like I need to be both."
"I think you can be whoever you want to be, Jane."
"Don't say that," I spit out, suddenly angry.
Someone yells in the background.
"Look, I need to get going."
Now my feelings are hurt, and I'm brushing back tears. I've been trying my best to forget Will, something he seems to have accomplished in less than a week.
"And Jane..."
"Yeah?" I say quietly.
"I miss you, too."
The line goes dead and I pull my phone back from my ear, looking at the bright screen. Hope fills my insides and I hang on to Will's last words.
I miss you, too.
He hasn't completely given up on me yet, just like I can't seem to give him up. In my mind I know that calling him tonight was wrong, prior to coming home I didn't know any better. But now, with all I remember, it is bordering on an emotional affair. Especially if I call him again, which I know I plan on doing.
When I get back to the house, the lights are all out and the space is quiet. I wash my dirty feet in the downstairs bathroom and wince as the warm water hits the fresh cuts. I think I’m home free until I step from the bathroom and Jason is leaning against the wall.
I cry out and clutch my chest. “You scared me.”
He holds out his hand apologetically. “Can we talk?”
I flip on a lamp and settle into the couch. The blankets and pillows I normally use are still piled at the other end. Jason sits on the arm of the chair across from me and clasps his hands together in his lap. His eyes travel to the floor.
“Your feet,” he says with a gasp.
I look down and notice I’ve gotten blood on the floor. “Crap.”
“Hold on.” He stands and disappears into the kitchen, returning with the first aid kit I saw under the sink. He slips to his knees and grabs my ankle, my skin tingles under his touch.
“I can do that,” I say.
“I have to do this a lot at camp, since our trainer is only part time,” he tells me. “It will only take a minute.”
He dabs some ointment on the cuts and I wince at the sting. He then wraps a long bandage around each foot and inspects his work. An uneasy feeling settles in my stomach, and I recognize it as guilt, confusion, and pride, all wrapped together. I shouldn’t feel guilty that Jason is touching me, but I should feel guilty that I called Will tonight. The confusion I’ve been feeling seems necessary. The pride is unavoidable, and I know the emotion is etched deep within me from years living with a stubborn and controlling mom. I want to unravel each feeling and kick them out of my body one by one.
Jason packs up the first aid kid and stands, once again taking a seat on the arm of the chair.
“I’m sorry I yelled like that,” he starts. “It’s just...this...this is all really frustrating for me.”
I work my jaw to keep from crying, because I completely understand.
“His name is Will,” I blurt out.
No matter how
much I want to let my eyes wander, I keep them locked on Jason’s.
“Will,” he repeats. His voice is soft but I can hear an undertone of disappointment.
“Did you...” Jason pauses and holds up his hands, “... never mind, I don’t want to know.”
I bite my lip.
We sit in silence for a minute, but it feels longer.
“I’m not going to say anything about him,” Jason finally says. “Because I can’t pretend to understand what you were going through, and still are, with the amnesia. I can’t blame you for trying to move on when you didn’t know there was anything to come back to.”
He looks as if he wants to say more but he doesn’t.
“I have to be at work early to set up for pitching camp, so I need to head to bed.” He stands and offers me his hand, but I just look at it. “I promise not to touch you.”
“That isn’t it...” I tell him, embarrassed that he thinks I’m upset by his touch.
“I know,” he replies. “I still think you should come to bed.”
I look at the pile of blankets on the other end of the couch, and then at his hand. I take it slowly and let him pull me off of the couch.
“You touched me,” I say with a small smile.
He rolls his eyes and gives me a playful shove toward the stairs. Once in the bedroom, we each settle into our own side of the bed and I turn away from him, curling into a small ball.
Baby steps, I tell myself. Baby steps.
When I woke up this morning, Jason had already left for work. My feet had been stiff as I got out of bed, and I was glad no one was around to see the blush that crossed my cheeks. Jason had been so tender when he had taken care of me, so tender when he had touched me. My body responded to that touch better than my mind could seem to.
After a quick shower, I called Beth and she came and picked me up. We had brunch at the Clinton Corner Cafe and now we were headed just north of town, to a place I still wasn't sure I wanted to go.
"Are you sure she's at the club?" I ask Beth.
Beth nods. "Where else would she be on a weekday close to noon?" She rolls her eyes and I laugh.
I decided this morning that I need to see my mom and talk to her. I needed to meet the rest of my family and work on getting a different set of memories back. The memories that are resurfacing about Jason are becoming too painful.
The golf course seems out of place amongst the old town and numerous cornfields, and I’m taken back by how nice it is as we drive in. The grass is bright green and freshly mowed. The trees are full, and there are flowers planted in pot that border the main parking lot. Beth drops me off and tells me to call her if I need to be picked up. I plan on going home with my mom, but if my memory serves me right, that mood could change in an instant.
A man is standing by the door and pulls it open for me, tipping his chin down as I pass.
"Good afternoon Mrs. Rupp," he says.
It is the first time someone had addressed me so formally.
Mrs. Rupp. Melissa Rupp.
It’s odd to say Jason's last name with my first, but I know it’s been this way for three years.
I find my mom in the ladies’ lounge, picking at a salad and sipping iced tea. A group of women her age surround the table, all with fresh manicures and dyed hair.
My mom almost drops her fork when she sees me.
"Melissa." She plasters on a fake smile.
The women at the table all begin to chatter at once.
"Glad to see you back home."
"Grace told me all about your accident. How awful that must have been for you."
"Jason must be so glad to have you home."
"I can't believe your grandparents held you there against your will..."
The last comment almost sends me over the edge.
"Mom, can I speak with you in private?" I say loudly.
The chatter stops and all eyes turn to my mom. She sets her fork down and nods, rising slowly.
"Tell Ron to put lunch on my tab, ladies," she says cheerfully and then grabs her purse off the side of her chair.
I walk into the entryway beside her. Her heels and my flip flops make an array of noises on the marble floor.
"I'm hoping you came here to tell me you've finally come to your senses," she says as we leave the building and walk to her car.
I guess I am leaving with her.
Once in her car I turn to face her. "I'm not here so that you can control me. I'm not going to see those doctors in Chicago, and I'm not working on your schedule. I'm here because being around family and friends helps me remember, and I want to get my full memory back. The past year is fuzzy and I want all of this over with. If I can spend some time with Robbie, and maybe you and Ted, it might help."
My mom just nods, her eyes narrow and her lips in a thin, straight line.
“There is something I need to know,” I say. “Something I’ve been wondering since I’ve been back.”
“What’s that?” she asks quietly.
“Why did you leave Hampton Harbor? When did you leave Charles and Marie?”
My mom clears her throat. “It all seems really silly now. When I left the first time, as a teenager, it was strictly out of rebellion. I knew I wanted to go to college away from home, and Indiana felt far enough. My relationship with my mother was tense at best when I came home from breaks. Both of us were too prideful to mend the relationship.”
She wrings her fingers around the wheel of the car and continues.
“She never approved of your father, and I married him anyway. We eloped to Vegas the summer after graduation. I didn’t even tell my mother for two weeks, and I remember how hard she cried when I finally did. We moved into an old farmhouse not far from here, and I got pregnant with you pretty quickly. I took you to Hampton Harbor for a few weeks each summer, and when Robbie came along he went as well. That summer, the last summer we visited Hampton Harbor, was when your father and I started having issues. My mother overheard me fighting with him on the phone and gave me a long speech about how she told me so. I packed you and Robbie up and we left. I didn’t divorce your father until many years after that, but they were years full of yelling and tears. I couldn’t go back to face my parents. I couldn’t tell my mother she was right.”
I blink back tears, imagining how my mom must have felt. I can picture the fights they had, and how much I just wanted them to end. I was upset the summer they divorced, but I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t been relieved as well.
“It’s hard to picture Marie like that,” I say.
And then I think about Marie’s parting words to my mom.
Don’t make the same mistakes I did.
“She’s changed,” my mom says, as though she needs to convince herself of the fact.
“Yes,” I say. “She is the most loving and generous person I know.”
My mom wipes a tear from under her eye and clears her throat.
"Robbie is coming into town this weekend. Would you be willing to come have dinner with us, at my home?" I can tell how hard it is for her to pose this as a question, rather than tell me when dinner will be.
"Saturday night should work just fine," I say.
Before I know it, she is driving me home and pulling into my driveway.
"Thank you, for making an effort," she says to the steering wheel.
The softness in her voice surprises me, and I can hear an under tone of sadness.
"Thank you," I say before climbing out of the car, and by the look on her face, I can tell she is just as surprised.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
When I get inside I pull out my phone and immediately dial Marie. I get the answering machine and try the cafe next, glad that I remember the numbers so easily. Shelley tells me that they are out of town for a few days, and wishes me well before she hangs up. I set my phone on the coffee table and wander around the room, looking at the framed pictures again and again. I can recall most of these moments now; Jason and my Christmas card pic
ture last year, a few pictures from the lake, more wedding pictures, and a picture that is harder to look at, a picture of me holding baby Ethan in the hospital.
"We can go see him, you know.”
I spin around. Jason is standing behind me. I didn’t even hear him come in.
He eyes the picture of Ethan. "It's an open adoption, and I know they'd be willing to let you see him despite your situation."
I turn back to the picture and push the emotion welling in my chest back down.
"Not yet," I whisper.
I walk away from the picture and sit down on the sofa, leaning my head back and closing my eyes.
"I'm going to my mom's for dinner on Saturday. You're invited too, of course." I say out loud.
"That’s probably a good idea,” Jason replies. “Maybe then she’ll stop blowing up my phone.”
I grin. “I still haven’t told her mine is working again.”
“I’ve noticed,” he retorts.
We both laugh and then Jason clears his throat. “I’m going to mow the lawn and then take a shower. I thought maybe we could go out for dinner tonight, maybe give those cookbooks of yours a break.”
I look up at him, my mouth hanging open slightly. I think he might be asking me on a date.
“Um, yeah, sure. That sounds nice,” I stutter.
Jason doesn’t hide his relief. “Okay, dinner out it is.”
I wait until he is out the back door before I grab my purse and hurry out the door. I jog to the elementary school and right into the playground, plopping down on a bench. I pull out my phone and take a deep breath, punching numbers into the keys.
Will answers on the second ring. "Jane."
The wind whips across the speaker and I know he is out on the docks, possibly servicing a boat. I close my eyes and try to picture myself there with him, but the hurt is too strong and the ache too deep, so I open them again. Flat land, cornfields, and an elementary school.
Reality.
"Are you busy?"
"I have a few minutes," he responds.
"What would have happened to us, if I wasn't married? Do you think we would have stayed together?" I don't know why I’m asking this particular question but the what ifs are driving me insane and I need to lay it all out on the table. I need closure.
