Forgotten

  “The future,” I say, wishing for one second she could read my mind so that I didn’t have to explain it. “My memories. Have I ever changed a memory?”

  “Hmm, let me think,” she says, pondering the thought a little too long. Finally, she’s got something. “You skipped Jamie’s thirteenth birthday party.”

  “Why?”

  “You remembered that you were going to break your nose,” she says with a chuckle. Not funny, I think, but I stay quiet and listen. “It was a pool party at the rec center, out on the deck. There were sliding glass doors and you remembered running full force into one of them. So you skipped the party.”

  “And what happened?” I ask.

  “You missed out on the fun and you broke your nose later that year when you tripped over a stray dog that you brought home.”

  We’re idle in the drop-off area, and I need to get out now. She looks over and touches the tip of a nose that looked perfectly fine to me in the mirror this morning.

  “So, really, I didn’t change anything?” I ask, part dejected and part annoyed. Frankly, I’m having a hard time not asking her why she’s been lying to me all my life, as this morning’s notes reported.

  “I guess not,” my mom says. When I exhale loudly, she adds, “That’s not to say that you couldn’t, you know. Maybe you just didn’t in that situation. What’s wrong, London?”

  “I just feel sick,” I say, because right now, I really do.

  Another parent gives her car horn a gentle tap to politely ask us to move along. My mom glances in the rearview mirror, then looks at me earnestly.

  “You know, London, the thing is, unless you told me about it or wrote it down, you wouldn’t really know that you were making changes to your future, even if you were. Does that make sense?”

  I take a moment to consider her statement. Say that right now, I remember that tomorrow I’ll be hit by a bus. I don’t tell my mom about it or write it down tonight, so tomorrow morning that knowledge is lost completely. But tomorrow, I take a different route to school and unknowingly avoid the bus-hitting incident. Then, I’ve changed my future without knowing it.

  I genuinely smile for the first time this morning.

  “It makes perfect sense,” I say as I release my seat belt and open the door. I wave good-bye, rush inside, and head to my first class.

  Barely inside the locker room, I’m accosted by Page Thomas.

  “Have you asked him yet?” she says, standing awkwardly in her baggy sportswear.

  I can see a costume in Page’s locker instead of street clothes. I’m dressed in a black crewneck sweater, a black denim skirt, and orange and black striped tights that I found in my dresser. Not a costume, but festive just the same.

  Page stares at me, arms crossed, as if it’s my duty to seal her romantic fate. For a glimmer of a second, I consider telling her the truth. But then, I think of Brad Thomas and what he’ll do to her. I think of her public rejection. I think of the sadness in her when it happens.

  And then I think of myself.

  Underneath it all, I can’t deny that I want to try to change something small to find out whether I might be able to change something big.

  With all this in mind, rather than telling Page Thomas the truth—that I never actually spoke to Brad—I turn to face the girl in the baggy sportswear and spew a lie right to her face.

  “Page,” I say, feigning sympathy. “I’m so sorry, but apparently Brad Thomas is gay.”

  17

  “Bye,” I call to my mom before closing the front door and joining Luke on the porch.

  This is it: our first date.

  I pored through the notes all day, giggling and gasping right up until the moment I started getting ready. That took an hour, and then I spent the next one toning it down to make it look effortless.

  He’s late, but I don’t mind. He’s here.

  Luke directs me to the maroon minivan in the driveway (which I’m glad my notes warned me about, because otherwise I’d be concerned). He holds the door open for me in a way that’s more natural than forced. He seems to be a gentleman, probably the product of polite parents.

  We settle into our seats and strap seat belts across our bodies. “Sorry I’m late,” he says.

  “It’s fine,” I say.

  “I got caught up in a painting,” he explains as he turns the ignition and adjusts the heat. “I lost track of time.”

  Annoyance creeps up on me. He was painting? I take a deep breath and shove it away. He’s here now.

  “How are you?” he asks, so intimately that I want to grab him. I’m completely over his lateness.

  “I’m fine,” I say, smiling. “How about you?”

  “Better now,” he says, expertly backing out of the driveway onto the quiet street.

  “Do I smell pizza?” I ask, suddenly salivating. Luke glances in my direction and then forward again.

  “Sorry,” he says. “I just picked some up for my family before I left.”

  “Oh,” I say, and shrug to myself as Luke shifts the van into drive and accelerates.

  The radio plays quietly as Luke navigates the streets of my development like he’s lived here for years. Soon enough, we’re barreling north on one of the two highways that run in and out of town.

  “What happened to the movie?” I ask. He had outlined a dinner and movie date for my mom, but I don’t care where we go. I don’t mind if I stare at a blank wall, as long as I do it in Luke’s presence.

  “Don’t worry, I didn’t lie to your mom,” he says cryptically.

  “I wasn’t worried, and it’s okay if you did,” I say, looking out at the clear, cold night.

  Luke drives and I ride north and north and north of town, and for a fleeting second, I wonder whether I’m that girl in horror movies who walks toward the monster instead of running to safety. I’m breezily allowing this cute guy I don’t remember to take me to the boondocks. Then, as quickly as it arrived, I push the thought away. There is nothing monstrous about Luke Henry. There is nothing frightening about the boy I know from my notes. I feel completely safe in this van that smells like pizza.

  I watch the sky as we drive, and the farther we get from the city, the more stars appear. “Do you even know where you’re going?” I ask, not minding if we get lost. “Didn’t you just move here?”

  “I scoped out our destination this afternoon,” he admits.

  “How very organized of you,” I say, settling back into the seat and feeling totally at ease. I’m completely calm as Luke turns off the highway onto a frontage road, takes a right onto a smaller residential street, and turns right onto a dirt road that winds up a small hill into blackness.

  I feel the safest I will feel in years as this stranger eases his mother’s minivan off the gravel and drives slowly across the prairie to the edge of a small hill.

  Luke parks directly in front of a NO TRESPASSING sign on the barbed-wire fence that keeps us from driving off the incline. He kills the engine and the headlights along with it. I take in the twinkling, scattered town below, sprawling across more than twenty miles of land, just because it can.

  “Cool,” I say.

  “Yeah, I thought so,” he says, eyes straight ahead. I like that he likes this town. It’s not for everyone, but it will always be a little part of me.

  “So, you’ve never been up here before?”

  Good question, I think. “Um, no,” I reply. “In fact, I have no idea where we are.”

  Luke takes his eyes off the landscape for the first time and settles on me. His hands are still resting lightly on the steering wheel. “You’re pretty trusting, you know. I could be a murderer.”

  “Yes, you could be, but I doubt it.” I say, transfixed by his pale eyes. “I feel too safe with you.”

  “You are,” he says sweetly. He pauses for a few moments and I think he might lean over and kiss me, but he doesn’t.

  “Okay,” he says louder, hitting his hands lightly on the steering wheel. “Let’s get this part
y started. You hungry?”

  “Yes, but I don’t think anyone delivers out here,” I say, scanning the barren land around us.

  “Never fear, I’ve got it covered. Just a minute.” Luke pops the back door, gets out, and disappears behind the van. I turn around to see what he’s doing and realize that the middle row of seats is missing. On the third row, there are two throw pillows that look like they were taken from someone’s couch; a soft knitted blanket folded neatly on the seat; and a small cooler on top of the blanket.

  Luke spies me checking out his setup and smiles sheepishly when our eyes meet. My stomach spins at the sight of the dimple on his right cheek.

  He closes the door with a light thud. Instead of getting back in the driver’s seat, Luke opens the automatic sliding door on the far side of the van and climbs in. He’s carrying what looks like a pizza delivery sleeve in his right hand and a plastic bag in his left.

  “Liar!” I say playfully.

  “Come on back,” he instructs with a laugh.

  Instead of attempting to gracefully climb between our seats, I get out of the van and enter through the sliding door on my side. Crouched down, I walk to the back of the vehicle and sit next to Luke, who has cleared the blanket and the cooler from the third row and propped a pillow on the seatback for me to lean against. From some secret compartment, he retrieves a remote control.

  “Whoops,” he says as he gets up and scoots to the front of the van. He reaches up to the dashboard and turns the ignition, fiddles with the heater and some other controls, then returns to our seat. I hadn’t noticed the drop-down DVD player until now; it illuminates the backseat. A copyright warning is our nightlight as Luke pulls a miraculously warm pizza from the sleeve (apparently he “borrowed” it), retrieves paper plates and napkins from the sack, and grabs sodas from the cooler.

  I recognize the movie from the first five notes of its sound track. As the signature opener of Star Wars scrolls up the tiny screen, I scoot closer to Luke Henry on our makeshift couch in the middle of nowhere. I am the happiest I’ll be in years.

  “I love this movie,” I whisper.

  “Yeah,” he smiles, still looking at the screen.

  “Yeah, what?” I ask.

  “I thought you might.” Luke looks at me like he can see into my soul, and all of a sudden I feel naked. Breaking the tension, I reach for the pizza at my feet and begin eating. Luke follows suit, and between the two of us, the whole thing is gone quickly.

  Full and content, we watch the movie in silence. Halfway through, I pull the blanket over my legs. Someone texts Luke but he doesn’t answer; he turns the ringer off and tosses the phone to the front seat. He puts his arm around my shoulders, and we snuggle together like we’ve known each other forever.

  After the movie, Luke makes his way to the front of the van, explaining that he should turn off the car for a little bit to conserve gas.

  “I don’t want to get us stranded out here,” he explains.

  “I wouldn’t mind,” I reply.

  “I wouldn’t, either,” he says seriously. “But I think your mom might.” Instead of rejoining me, Luke pulls open the moonroof and asks me to hand him the pillows. He lines them up against the backs of the driver’s and passenger seats and lies down with his head on one.

  “Come here?” he says, more as a question than a command. The van has grown cold quickly, so I drag the blanket with me as I scoot to the forward section and lie down parallel to Luke. We settle the blanket over both of us, tucking it in around our bodies to trap the heat.

  Luke and I stare straight up through the large window at the winter sky, overcrowded with stars. My teeth begin to chatter and my body starts shaking, but it’s not the cold. Luke moves closer to me and grabs my hand under the covers.

  “This is nice,” he says softly, after a few moments of silence.

  “Yes, it is,” I say quietly.

  “Like we’ve known each other for a while, right?” he asks.

  “Uh-huh,” I mumble, scooting closer to Luke’s warm shoulder.

  “Want my theory?” Luke asks, carefully rolling onto his side to face me. His eyes look mischievous, like he’s got a great secret to tell.

  “Yes, please,” I say, still on my back but facing him instead of the stars now.

  “Reincarnation.”

  “Reincarnation?”

  “Yeah, you know what that is, right?” he asks.

  “Of course I do. I’m not dumb. I’m just wondering what that has to do with us.”

  “Well, my theory is that we were married in some past life. Maybe I was a great king and you were my queen and we were killed by an angry mob.”

  “What did we do to make the mob so angry that they wanted to kill us?” I tease.

  Luke laughs and continues. “All right, forget that. Maybe we were just average people living sometime, someplace. Just elsewhere.”

  “Elsetime.”

  “That’s not even a word,” he says, sidetracked.

  “I know. I just made it up. Go on.”

  “Okay, fine, we were married elsetime. Anyway, we died of whatever you die from, let’s say natural causes. But we were in love, so our souls keep finding each other in whatever forms our bodies take.”

  “Are you Hindu or something?” I ask, avoiding the fact that my stomach is in knots from hearing his beautiful theory.

  “No, we used to be Catholic. But I did have a religion class at my last school that exposed us to different ideas. I think the concept of reincarnation is a good one.”

  “If you’re Catholic, shouldn’t you believe in heaven and hell and all that?”

  “I said I used to be Catholic,” he replies.

  “No heaven then, huh?” I press on.

  “Who knows until we experience it? I think that heaven and reincarnation are both ways of making us feel better about what happens to people’s souls after death. I hope at least one of them is true. I don’t like to think about being worm food.”

  “Yeah, I don’t really like to think of death at all,” I reply truthfully.

  We’re both quiet for a few minutes, and then Luke breaks the silence. “I think you’re supposed to save the death discussion until at least the third date.” We chuckle halfheartedly and Luke rolls onto his back again.

  Trying to lighten the mood, I ask, “What were our names?”

  “Our names?” Luke says, sounding confused.

  “Yes, our names. Elsetime. When we were madly in love and married and all that.”

  “It sounds so cheesy when you say it like that.” Luke looks away for a few seconds, and I imagine that he’s blushing, but I can’t be sure.

  “No,” I say quickly. “I like it. Don’t be embarrassed.”

  He looks back into my eyes and we’re locked there for a few moments. And then, before I can worry about what he’s doing, Luke leans over and kisses me. Barely there at first, then more purposeful, the kiss is soft and electric at the same time. It’s so perfect that, before it’s over, I’m heartbroken that I won’t remember it.

  When we part, Luke’s eyes stay on mine. The moment is more intense than even he knows; I look away.

  “Are you okay?” he asks. “Was that bad?”

  Quickly, I meet his gaze again. “No!” I say a little too loudly. “Not at all. It was amazing.” I’m glad to be in the dark; I can feel my face flush.

  “Good,” Luke says. “Because I’ve wanted to do that for a while.”

  “Well, I’m glad you did,” I reply with a grin. Maybe it’s the acknowledgment of the situation, but at once I feel silly. Luke might, too: he eases onto his back again, careful to leave room for me to cuddle close.

  There’s an awkward silence again.

  Until I throw a rock through it.

  “So elsetime… I think my name was Heloise. Or Elizabeth. No, I’ve got it. I was Caroline.”

  Luke waits a beat, and then joins the game. “That’s a good one,” he responds earnestly. “And I was Benjamin.”
br />   “Or William,” I interrupt.

  “Oh yeah, that’s good, too. I was William. I was a stonemason.”

  “Of course you were. And I was a housewife raising our three children: Eliza, Mathilda, and…”

  “Rex, after our pet dinosaur.”

  “REX?” I screech. All of the happy nervousness jumps out of me at once; I burst out laughing and can’t stop. I am delirious. Luke laughs with me for a minute and then calms himself and stares in awe as I curl into a ball and nearly hyperventilate. By the time I’ve composed myself, I have tears streaming down my cheeks, and my stomach muscles ache.

  “That funny, huh?”

  Residual giggles sneak out of me as I unfold myself and smooth the blanket back across my legs. “Pretty funny,” I agree. “Or maybe I’m just easily amused.”

  “Cheap date,” he teases. I lean over and playfully punch him with my left hand, which he grabs and holds for safekeeping.

  “You’re surprising,” I say, looking to the sky.

  “How so?” he asks.

  “Most guys don’t make up stories like that,” I say quietly, thinking of the boys and men I will encounter in my lifetime. “Especially not guys who look like you.”

  “Well, most girls who look like you are prom queens,” Luke says, matching my tone. “But you seem to avoid the spotlight. You have one good friend, and you do your own thing. I like that about you.” He kisses my knuckles and it sends a spark through me.

  “Where did we live?” I ask softly, gently removing my hand so that I can lie flat and get comfortable. I scoot even closer to his side, if that’s possible. “Let’s see… I believe we lived in… Ireland.” I’ve answered my own question.

  “Oh, right,” Luke agrees, clearly okay heading back to make-believe. “And we farmed potatoes.”

  “We were busy,” I murmur, feeling exhausted. The emotions, the laughter, the warmth of Luke’s body, it’s all weighing me down now.

  “Yes, we were. Very, very busy.”

  “I had red hair,” I continue, so comfortable I feel like I’m in my own bed. Of course, Luke wouldn’t be there with me, so I’m glad I’m here.

  “You have red hair now,” he says.