Falling for a Memory

Saturday, September 28, 2019

"What? No," I gasped. I shook my head, terrified I had just besmirched your memory by linking a handsome, successful man like yourself with a plain nobody that spends her day making coffee for lawyers who still thought her name was Bethany instead of Bailey.

"Lee, it's okay," said Michelle with a nervous laugh. "I just thought maybe you were being all secretive because you liked the guy. I know relationships are hard for you."

"Sorry," I replied with an attempt at a smile. I know you already know this, since you saw my lips curl upwards on a regular basis, but smiles never feel comfortable on my face. Not like you.

You had the smile of a model or an actor or a politician. It was effortless and friendly. And that's what you were to me — friendly. You were always genial towards me even though you were also well-groomed, strong, and rugged. Everything I imagined most women would find attractive. Me, though, it was just intimidating. Not that I blame you, of course. I know you weren't trying to frighten me. It's just...the first day I met you, I desperately tried to blend in with the laminate wood paneling of the elevator.

Do you remember that day? Probably not. I'm sure it was inconsequential for you, but for me, it's burned into my memory.

I'd been working at Blakeman & Associates for three months and never once crossed your path. Or at least, if we shared the elevator, there were too many other occupants, and I never took notice. But I was running late that day and just barely squeezed in before the doors closed.

"Rough start, huh?" you asked.

I was bent over with exhaustion, so I hadn't noticed anyone else was in the elevator. In fact, in that moment, I thought my inner voice had taken on a hearty male tone.

"Yes," I said, raising my eyes, hoping to glimpse someone other than myself. That's when I saw you reflected in the tarnished bronze of the elevator doors. You had a sloping jaw and a thick chin. Your eyes were small when you smiled, your grin stretching across your face and raising your cheeks. You wore a sharp black suit, but no tie. Instead, you opted for a pin-striped shirt with the top button unfastened.

I then became painfully aware that my current posture, with my hands on my knees and my shoulders hunched over, left my posterior in full view and thus presented me in a rather poor light. So I snapped myself up and threw my back against the nearest wall.

"Floor?"

"What?" I stuttered. I felt the red on my cheeks and silently cursed my decision to wear a skirt that day.

"Which floor are you going to? You never hit a button?" You chuckled and pointed to the panel with only one floor number lit, floor ten.

"Oh, sorry." I punched the twelve and felt grateful that we had only climbed up to five.

"Blakeman then. You an associate?"

"No," I replied, sending my eyes to the floor, "just an assistant for Tillman."

"Ah, haven't met him." You bounced on the balls of your feet as we ascended past eight and nine. Sometimes you looked ready to rekindle the conversation, but instead, you ended up flashing that patented smile. "Well, I hope the rest of your day goes better," you said as the doors popped open for your floor.

I gave you a curt nod as you strode out into your office space and towards a desk beyond my view.

"He's just a guy I saw a few times," I finally told Michelle, "but he was always really nice and it just didn't seem right that he had to die." I buried my hands in my lap, drawing my feet beneath my chair and leaning over my coffee. The hazelnut still curled up and swept across my nose, but the autumn chill rendered it too icy to drink at this point.

"Did he have a name?" said Michelle with a smirk. "Doesn't seem right to call him 'just a guy' if he meant that much."

"John Martin at the Berger and Smith Company." I paused to watch how the sun glittered in my coffee. "He never told me what he did, but apparently he was an usability analyst. Whatever that is. I've been meaning to look up the company to see what they do."

"Well," began Michelle as she pulled her chair around to my side of the table, the metal feet jarring across the weathered stone of the sidewalk, "I'm sorry for your loss." She grabbed my hand from my lap and held it between hers. "John sounded like a nice guy. Too bad I never got to meet him."

"It's okay, I don't think I ever got to meet him either."

Michelle's shoulders rose with a deep sigh as she patted my hand and watched the weekend crowd bustle along the piers as they window shopped. In the distance, an old church bell chimed, proclaiming the two o'clock hour.

"Oh shit," cried Michelle, standing up with such energy that she knocked her chair to the ground, nearly missing a pack of teenagers. "Kaia is going to be pissed."

"Why?" Kaia is Michelle's girlfriend, the first one she's been able to keep for more than a month.

"Ah, I screwed up last week. It was our three-month anniversary, and I forgot. So, now I'm going to make it up to her by taking her to the aquarium and then strolling over to Little Italy for a nice dinner."

"You really have to remember three month anniversaries?"

"No," said Michelle, snatching up her bag and tossing out her tea, "but after I got crap for missing the two-month anniversary, I should have known that I was in for a celebration each month."

"Oh, okay," I said, not really understanding. Would you have been the type of person who expected a celebration every month? I don't think I would have minded acknowledging the anniversary of our meeting each month. Perhaps Kaia wasn't that weird after all.

"Look, I can't really grasp what you felt for this guy," said Michelle as she looked over to the aquarium on the other side of the bay, "but clearly you're upset about it. Call me tomorrow if you still need to talk. Unfortunately, I doubt I can really talk more today. You going to be okay?" For a moment she stopped fidgeting, despite her eagerness to get moving. Instead, she focused her eyes on mine, waiting to see if I would break.

"Yeah, I'll be fine," I answered with a small smile.

"Great," she said with a sigh of relief. She bent down and kissed my forehead before running off to catch an already departing bus.

Alone with my iced coffee and a biting chill, I looked out towards the bay. I have the impression you enjoyed the water. I don't know why, but I could picture you sitting on a bench, your arms stretched across the back of the seat and your legs sitting long and crossed before you. You'd wear a warm smile on your face as the bay breeze brushed your skin and the sun glinted off your honey brown hair.

Now, though, I'll never know. In fact, I really know nothing about you except what our mutual acquaintance's post told me. But I can still rectify this mistake, even if you have moved on to whatever is awaiting us in the afterlife. I had a few hints to get me started, and that's all I really needed.

First was the squirrel on your shirt and a fall league tournament game up at Chapel Park.