The Forgotten Ones

I wake up feeling eerily heavy and like I forget something. I just can't shake that feeling. Which is silly, it’s a new day what could I possibly be forgetting. Maybe I left the stove on while I slept but I don't smell smoke or gas. I yawn and try to remember what it could be. I look at my alarm clock by my bed, its six in the morning. I wonder if I have to open today, maybe that is what I am forgetting. I reach for my phone and to call my boss to check. I see that I have a text from the new manager, Chet, saying that I could have the day off just like I requested. I beam and cuddle up with my blankets. I am proud of myself for getting the day off. That's what I forgot, that I have a free day to sleep in. I love being able to sleep in.

I happily woke up, again, around noon. I am feeling well rested and that pesky foggy feeling finally lifted. I also had another text from Chet, this time it says that he misses me. How could I forget that he was my boyfriend? I hit my palm to my forehead; I can be such an airhead sometimes. I respond with the obvious fact that I miss him too. I shake my head after I sent it. Wondering what else I forgot? Maybe I should ask the neighbors to tell me if I had him over lately. Gosh, I hope not, I don't want to be moving so quickly. I think our relationship is new, it feels like it. I can't ask, someone might found out who shouldn't. Besides, my coworkers can’t know. It would be the only scandal to ever happen, ever. I mean a back up manager should not be dating her boss. I blush; I can't believe I am doing something so risky. It’s so unlike me. That’s when I hear the front door open and I sprint to see who it is.

“Hey baby,” olive green eyes sparkle softly at me.

I can see from his tousled auburn hair that he rushed here. His uniform vest is still on, displaying his muscle despite the semi loose fit. His 'I am Chet', name tag tilted to right. I laugh and adjust it, he always does that. That's what he gets from rushing out in the morning.

“What are you doing here?” I blush, pushing a strand of hair out of my face.

“I live upstairs remember,” he points up the stairs and laughs before kissing me softly. “You are so forgetful sometimes. I think it’s so cute. Besides, is it a crime to want to see my beautiful girlfriend?”

I giggle and wrap my arms around his neck, “No it isn't. So you think my airheadedness is cute huh?”

He laughs into my ear as he places his head on my shoulder. The scent of his polo cologne already clinging to my shirt. How could I not have remembered him? How could I forget how it feels in his arms? How could I forget how perfect it is to have him holding me by my waist, while we sway slowly to the rhythm of our heartbeats? He pulls away, his eyes filled with a tenderness that I have grown used too. I have a sudden flash of his eyes cold and hard, fear grips my chest then the fog takes it away. That was silly. Chet would never look at me like that.

“I just stopped by for my lunch hour. I got us meat lovers’ pizza; I left it in the car. I will just run and get it. I should have bought it straight in but I couldn't wait to see you.”

He runs his finger down the length of my face and I blush. Then he pulls away to leave and I feel myself pout; I don’t want him to go, not even for a second. He laughs again, gives me another kiss before heading out to grab the food. I walk into the living room and see all the picture frames filled with moments shared by Chet and I. How long have we been together? A thought itches in the back of my mind, like someone else used to be in those frames before. I bite my lip and stare hard at the frame above the fireplace. In the picture, Chet and I are sitting on a picnic blanket with a basket between us. I am laughing so hard that he must have said something very funny to get me to laugh like that. I am even holding my stomach like it hurts from the strain my laughing put on it. I get the flash of another face, one that looks more like mine, like a father or brother maybe? Chet comes in with the pie in hand and a huge grin on his face. He runs to the sofa and opens the pie, since he has to be back at work soon.

“Chet?” I look at him, wondering if he knows why I feel like someone is missing.

“Yes babe?” He already has a piece of pizza close up to his mouth.

“Have you met my parents?” I join him on the couch picking up the slice.

A sad and puzzled look crosses his face; he sighs and places his slice back in the box.

He frowns at me, “Alda, are you okay?”

I wrinkle my forehead and decide to tell the truth.

“No I am not feeling too well. My head hurts a lot. Its feels, I don't know, foggy, I guess.” I rub my temples, as if it will help me sort out my thoughts.

Of course Chet never met my parents, neither did I. They died the day that I was born from some illness. I pout again; Chet must think I am going crazy. Why would I even try to put myself through remembering the pain of being the only kid I knew without parents? I shake my head, maybe I am coming down with something. Yeah, that's has to be why my brain feels so fuzzy around the edges.

He nods as if he understands, “I told you that you drank way too much last night.” He shakes his head, “Eat some pizza it will help. I will go get you some orange juice and an Advil or two.”

I perk up, “ooo baby make it fresh, in the juicer please, like I love it.”

He laughs, “Okay pumpkin.”

“I am sorry but you have to forget pumpkin. Forgive me.” A voice echoes through the chambers of my brain and the nagging feel comes back.

Who said that? Why do I feel like I should know that person? That I should miss them? Like should for some reason be out looking for them? As if they were missing. No one is missing, no one ever goes missing. That's the stuff of stories and silly movie plots, not real life. I am probably just remembering what Chet said to me when he helped me to bed last night. He was sorry that I had to forget the great night we had and he was asking me to forgive him because he let me get so out of hand. Simple, why must I try and complicate things all the time? He is so sweet taking the blame for something that is clearly not his fault. I munch away on my first slice wondering how I will make things up to him. When Chet returns with my juice and pills in hand, I smile lovingly at him. I am already on my second slice, which means he freshly squeezed it for me since I didn't hear the juicer. He really is the sweetest.

“I hope you are better by tomorrow. I really need you to open.” He sits back down and picks up the slice.

“Oh I will be fine baby. I am sorry for all the trouble I have been causing you today and last night.” I roll my eyes. “Let’s hope I never drink that much again.”

His eyes sparkle at me again, “uh huh, let’s hope.”