Page 3 of Forgotten
I arch a brow questioningly. It serves as a reminder why I should not be arching nor moving anything at all.
“Talking? I was gone not even five minutes!” Ashley enquires walking closer to the hospital bed. His movements are strangely cautious and it clashes with the confidence of the doctor going through my file.
“Hh.” Words are still a struggle, and I decide thathiis the least painful word so far.
Ashley smiles shakily, hand waving gently.
“Hello, Ford. You’re awake.”
I try to smile back at my best friend and a familiar warmth settles on my cheeks.
Chapter 2
2002 - Ashley
When I meet Ashford, I am six years old.
The weather is super warm although it’s January, with a sky as blue as it gets. There isn’t a cloud in the sky and the frost is covering the leaves with a fuzzy, white blanket. I wish I could lay on it.
Santa did not bring me the skates I wished for last Christmas, and Mom says it is because I have not been a good boy. She also says, skates are for girls. Which confuses me, because people tell me all the time I have a girl’s name. I want to ask Mom why my name is fine but skates are not, but I know she’d get mad at all myquestions.
It makes me a little sad, but Mom said maybe next year, if I am better; if I play more with the twins. I hate the twins. Earlier this morning I made a mental list of the reasons why in my journal.
Number one is the twins have boys’ names: Martin and Edwin. I would have loved to be named Martin orEdwin or anything else, really, as long as it’s a boy’sname.
Reason number two: the twins got more toys than I did at Christmas.
Reason number three: Mom showered them with kisses this morning. And the one before. Maybe when I get better at words, I can write the list down. This way I don’t have to keep making it.
Nana says I have been good, and Santa simply did not have enough money to get me the skates. I am not sure why, but I know we never have enough money for anything. Never enough to get me a Christmas present and then a birthday present so soon. I add a reason to my list why I hate the twins.
Reason number four: the twins’ birthday is in October and they always get double presents. Mine is in January and I get only one present. Because we don’t have enough money.
I ask Nana if next year Santa might have more presents for me. I also say I’m okay with an ugly pair of skates, I’m okay even sharing them with the twins because I am a really good boy, but Nana shakes her head.No, she doesn’t think so. Our baby brother is coming in March, and Santa probably won’t have enough money for all of us boys.
“You need to share with your brothers,” Nana tells me but I know this already because she tells me all the time. She comes for lunch every Sunday to see Mom and the first thing she asks is, “Have you been good, Ashley?” Sometimes, I imagine it’s Sunday just to make sure I’m being good. I am.
I share everything with my twin brothers, already. And now, another one is coming. Another brother that will take all of my stuff without asking and get special mom-kisses and birthday gifts.
I run to Mom and I ask if I can write my letter already, letting Santa know that I can share my skates with the twins and with the new brother, too, if only I could get a pair. Mom laughs and shoos me away, she says it is too early, we cannot send a letter in January. It makes me sad and I go cry in my bedroom, alone, while I pretend to play with toys made for boys that I do not like. I should have asked for a doll, but I did not want mom to tell me that those are for girls, too.
After the frost outside melts and lunch is done, Mom calls me in her softest voice and asks if I want to go to the grocery store with her. Instead of taking the car, she tells me to walk with her and together, we go down the street.
When I meet Ashford for the first time, he is with his dad at the end of the street, both of them wearing winter jackets and skates. That makes three things I envy Ashford for, so I make a mental list. Number one: Ashford has skates. Number two: Ashford has a boy name. Number three: Ashford has a dad.
Not that I do not have a dad. I do. I call him Daddy, but he feels more like a father than a daddy. Daddy loves the twins and he spends all of this free time with them, teaching them about sports and boy stuff. I spend all my time alone, or with Mom when she has time, or with Nana when she visits.
I’m with my mom when I meet Ashford, too. We are on our way back from the grocery store and Mom told me good boys carry groceries so I have a bag on each arm while inside I am wishing for skates.
At the end of the road, Ashford calls his father “Daddy” and I know he means it. His dad calls Ashford “Ash” and holds him as they skate together. As they loop back and spot us, with his pretty blue skates and messy curls and a loving father, Ashford stops and waves at me from across the street. I’m not sure what to do, so I stay perfectly still and stare down at his skates: the ones I had wished for.
“Do you want to try my new skates?” he asks and that’s when I notice he’s missing a couple of teeth. Suddenly, we have one thing in common.
“I’m missing a tooth, too!” I exclaim, because I’m not sure what else to say. I never had a friend. Daddy yells too much, Mom does not invite people over anymore. I don’t know what to do, so Ashford’s daddy looks at my mom. Something flashes in his eyes, and his kind smile changes. “I can bring him back home later,” he offers.
Mom looks at me for a second. Her face is red and she is huge from the new baby.
“We live right there. We moved last autumn,” says Ashford’s dad. He skates closer to my mom and extends his hand out to her. He is wearing a black glove and he removes it at the last second. “Gregory Hale,” he introduces himself, sounding impossibly fancy. His eyes are the same brown as the boy’s behind him.
