Falling for a Memory

Monday, September 30, 2019

Dear John,

I thought I saw you today.

For a moment, I thought you were back. I thought maybe it had all been a mistake. That this past weekend was a whirlwind of emotions that resulted in some sort of collective hallucination. I thought someone had snapped their fingers, and the nightmare was over. That you were going to walk into the elevator and I was going to smile. That I was going to tell you good morning and then I'd start the conversation for once since I had discovered so many new things about you — things that we could share together.

You could teach me lacrosse. We'd go out to the park every weekend and I would make a fool of myself, always failing to throw the ball properly. Then you would laugh and come up behind me, wrapping your arms around mine, pulling me in close so you could guide my hands as they made the swing.

You might show me your Pez dispenser collection, and I would see how many characters I knew and which ones I've never heard of before. Then you'd offer to watch an old movie or TV show with me so I could learn the names of every one of the dispensers in your collection. We'd settle into a comfy sofa with a bowl of popcorn and snuggle in together since the fall chill is settling upon the city.

You could introduce me to your dog, and I'd show you Ophelia. I'd tell you about how I've never had a dog, but have always wanted one. Maybe you could teach me how to take care of a dog. Maybe we could even get a dog together so you could teach me how to love and care for a canine firsthand.

We'd be able to do all of these things if you would just walk through the elevator door and make the world right again. I would change if you did. I'd be better, stronger. I'd come out of my shell for you if you'd only come back.

But you didn't.

It was just wishful thinking.

That and Michelle. She was to blame for this. If she hadn't asked me about how the weekend went, you wouldn't have been at the forefront of my mind. It was her fault.

"So you didn't see how the game ended?" she asked as we grabbed our morning beverages from the barista. We often walk to work together. She's a real estate agent and her building is only a few blocks from ours.

"I didn't really see any of the game," I lamented, before blowing away the steam from my coffee lid. "I was there for maybe five minutes, if that."

"Aw, well, I think it's sweet you tried to honor him by supporting the team. You could probably make a donation instead if you're not up for watching the games. I'm sure he'd appreciate that." She took a sip of her tea. She was trying an herbal tea this time, and it seemed to work out better for her than the black tea she had previously. After taking a moment to let the warm liquid wash the weekend away, she continued. "You could also just say hi to this Ashlynn next time. I'm sure it might comfort her to meet another person who had such a positive experience with John."

"Yeah, I don't know," I said with a shrug. We stopped at the street, waiting for the crosswalk to turn in our favor. "I'm not sure if that would be true. I mean, what if she's his girlfriend, or ex-girlfriend now... Although he didn't break up with her, so I guess she's..."

"Hey, woah," said Michelle with a light laugh before stepping out with the other bleary-eyed office workers as they darted across the road. "First things first, you don't know what her relationship with him was, so let's not waste time on the mental gymnastics needed to figure out what her status with him is now. Second, why does it even matter?"

She grabbed my arm and gently tugged me into an alcove formed between two pillars of a tall glass building. I looked at her to figure out why we had stopped. I thought maybe it was because she didn't want to spill her tea in the hustle and bustle of the populated sidewalk, but one look at her eyes told me that wasn't it. Her artful brows rose to a point on her forehead, while her lips pinched and twisted with a question she didn't seem ready to ask. However, Michelle was not one to hold her tongue for long and soon she gave voice to her concerns.