Page 37 of Forgotten
“No really. Can I ask you something?”
Breathing out, Ash offers me a malicious smirk. “No.”
I ignore him. “How did we…?”
With a sigh, Ash turns around so that he’s not looking at me. “You just came over one night. It was rightafter they fired you and I think you had gone out on a date with that girl, Jessica? Emily? I forgot. You kept saying that nothing in your life made sense, nothing was right anymore. Full panic, existential crisis Ford. So I told you to start small. What does make sense in your life?” Ash pauses, still doesn’t look at me. “And you said ‘you do’.”
The beating of my heart is feral against my ribs and my ears are ringing. I would give anything to have a recollection of the night Ash is talking about.
“Then you kissed me. I stopped you and I asked ‘are you drunk?’ And you replied ‘nope, been sober for…’”
“Eighty-two days,” I finish for him.
Ash meets my eyes, clearly surprised. “You remember?”
But there’s nothing else. Just a flash that reminds me I have always drank too much, I should have slowed down earlier. “No.” I watch as the joy and excitement leave Ash’s eyes, his expression dropping again. I add, “must have been a life-changing kiss, though.”
Ash agrees, lips thinning into a hard line. “I mean, I guess. All of our kisses have been pretty memorable to me.”
Chapter 14
2014 - Ashley
The first time I kiss Ford, I’m fourteen, trying to understand myself.
The second time I kiss Ford, I’m really drunk. Not that it matters. It’s the night of my eighteenth birthday and I can do whatever I want. So what if all I want to do is kiss my best friend again.
It’s a cold January night and Mom, Daddy, the twins and Erik travelled to Norway over Christmas to see grandma Bergman. Mom said I could stay home and have a birthday party instead. She even took my side when Daddy said that Grandma won’t live for long anymore and I should go see her. I don’t know what’s worst, honestly: going away with my parents, or being forced to have a birthday party with people that normally are not my friends but for complimentary beer and spirits, they will pretend they love me for one night.
I let Sydney and Darshi plan everything. With their minds combined the party is at the coolest pub in town, the beer is flowing and pretty much everyone from ourschool is here. Sydney and Darshi are here as well, although I’m not quite sure why they’re not together.
Sydney is with a new girl from sixth form, a short redhead that is the complete opposite of Darshi. She politely introduces herself but I forget her name immediately. Sydney tells me that she wants to move to Ireland, study philosophy, and have chickens. The girl adds nothing and simply smiles at me. It feels like she’s waiting for a reaction. I leave them behind, because I cannot be bothered.
Darshi is here with a boy, too. He’s one of her cousins, and together they explain to me that it is not incest–her auntie is not a real blood auntie. I must still look confused because they start making out in front of me to make a point. For a while, I cannot look away. I think about my first kiss with Darshi when we were fourteen, about her dry lips and her ticklish hair, but then my brain wanders to another first kiss.
That’s when I get the brilliant idea of kissing Ford again. Tonight, yes tonight, I will kiss him again.
I leave Darshi and the not-so-real-cousin behind and I go look for Ford, hoping he’s already here.
He must be. He promised me.
Ford moved to Sheffield in September to study music, an undergraduate program that will either make him a musician or, well, whatever Ford decides he wants to be. When he decides, I’ll be the first to know. He hasn’t come back over the Christmas break, which means that I haven’t seen him in months. I’ve had to learn how to live without a best friend and honestly, I’ve been losingmy mind from missing him so much. Sure, we’ve texted a couple of times. But going from practically being neighbours and seeing each other every other day to living in two different cities is hard. I need to know how big his dorm is, if he’s made any new friends and how good the new rugby team is. I need to ask for his opinion on my literary analysis, to tell him about my disastrous date with James and most of all, to know if he has missed me as well. I don’t even care how childish I sound.
The pub is really crowded. At every corner I spot someone from my year that I either have never spoken to or have only seen in passing, but everyone smiles at me and offers me happy birthday wishes. I guess it’s the magic of being the first one to turn eighteen and throw a party where the bartenders are paid to not care for age restrictions. I see people with all kinds of drinks in their hands and I wonder what time it is, how much I already had to drink.
Sydney insisted on beer but I despise the taste, the consistency. He pushed a gin tonic in my hands then, claiming it’s “the real shit.” It just tasted like plain shit to me. Rum and coke is where I land eventually, a sweet mix that is slowly turning the edges of my vision blurry and is making me feel a little less unpopular and a little more myself.
I keep hunting for Ford, sure that his train was supposed to get here around 7:00 p.m. but before I can think of getting worried, James appears before me. Prince James.
He has left his court behind but I can see the group of pretty blonde models behind him, sending me dirty looks. James is wearing a see-through shirt and is carrying a glass with clear liquid topped by a colourful umbrella. He must catch me staring at the drink because he lifts the glass to me and wiggles his perfect eyebrows. I dutifully take a sip and immediately regret it, but still push it down and swallow it.
“Vodka,” James supplies.
The urge to imitate his posh accent is strong, but I restrain myself. I make a face that James doesn’t buy.
“Quite revolting,” he says.
“Yes, it is,” I agree and then I watch as his body starts swaying in rhythm with the music in the pub. The movements are clumsy and disconnected and James has a concentrated look on his face that I cannot really read. When he turns nervously to peek at his group of friends that are still staring at him, I finally get it. He’s hating this.
