Page 45 of Make Me Forget
Relief sunk deep into her face, and she sat back down. More relieved to have saved the deal than to have been rejected. Interesting businessmodel.
I took the packet to the other end of the bar so I could think outside of her cloud of perfume. She left her business card on the bar and exited the way she came a few minutes after I vacated herpresence.
I scanned the pages. They wanted to offer me two million dollars for my dumpy bar. It seemed obscene and not enough all atonce.
I sat on the stool in the corner and stared at the empty room. Business had been down for a while, and every time I walked in the door, I thought of Mara. She haunted me by herabsence.
I picked up the pen attached and scrawled my illegible signature on the line. Then I grabbed the keys, her card, Mara’s letter, a few things from the back, and left out the front door. Real estate lady sat in her Mercedes and climbed out when I approached. I tossed her the keys, the paperwork, and went straight to mytruck.
Would I regret this tomorrow? Probably, but for now, something like hope lit inside my chest. I sat in my truck and opened herletter.
Her tiny cursive in long even lines on thick white paper. She poured out the details of how she felt about me, and how much I’d hurt her by assuming she’d take her ownlife.
I scanned the page three or four times. What had made me think she was going to killherself.
The line flashed in my head.See you on the otherside.
The words felt familiar. I headed home and continued reading on my couch. It took me a long time before I got up, snagged my high school yearbook off the shelf, and found her entry on the last page in the far bottomcorner.
We’ll be adults soon. Don’t let the man get youdown.
See you on the otherside,
Mara
It hit me all over again, and I folded myself on the couch. She’d lost her memories of us and clung to one she thought meant something from before. It did. Her message had finally given me the courage to actually talk to her. Maybe she’d known thattoo.
Now, I’d blown my chances forgood.
Or hadI?
I sat up on the couch and checked the postmark on her envelope. Heartsville. About three miles up theroad.
If I went after her, would I regret it? She might throw me back under the bus, where I admittedly deserved to stay. I didn’t let myself think about it too long. I packed a bag and headed to my truck at a jog. The Heartsville post office also housed the bus station. Maybe they could tell me where to findher.
I pulled up and parked quickly, barely getting in the door before they locked it. The lady in the ticket booth appeared to be in her nineties, and I had to yell to get through the glasspane.
“I’m looking for a woman who might have been here a few weeks ago. She has short hair, a scar on herhead.”
The woman smiled broadly and stuffed a piece of paper under the window. It readMillennium.
If she headed toward Millennium, I was in for a drive. Ten hours at least. I waved at the woman and backed out the door. Ten long hours to think about all the ways I screwed this up and all the ways I’d make it up to her if she’d letme.
I drove straight through until two in the morning and parked outside the bus terminal unit. It opened at 5 a.m. On only a few hours of uncomfortable sleep, I probably looked like a bum entered the building. I talked to every ticketing agent available and asked about Mara. No one remembers seeing her. And they likely wouldn’t, being the biggest bus hub in thearea.
I spun in circles until I got back to my truck. For the nine-hundredth time, I tried to text her cell phone number. No answer and no read receipteither.
No phone calls. There was a creeper line I refused to cross. She left. She didn’t want me back. Finding her to plead my side of the story was one thing. Stalking the women via her phone wasanother.
I tossed the device on the seat next to me and found the nearest hotel which didn’t appear to house rats. The night caught up to me in a haze, and I succumbed to a dreamlesssleep.
When I woke, the bright light beat through the partially closed curtains. My entire body ached from the drive and from not having moved from one spot the entire timeslept.
A knock brought me out of the daze, and a short yell of housekeeping altered me to a woman entering. “No thanks,” I called, and she retreatedeasily.
I could sleep for another day, go home, and see if I could get my bar back. I could run off to Peru, or California. While I’d never considered myself outside of our hometown, the prospect of freedom intrigued me. If only Mara were there to share it withme.
I didn’t do pity parties. Well, at least this week, I was trying to gostraight.
