Forget Me (Hampton Harbor) (2 page)

I shake my head no. 

I don't remember
anything.

"I'm a doctor," the man says. "We brought you back
to my house to make sure you were all right. You woke up for a little bit, and
told us how tired you were, so we gave you a place to spend the night."

His words come out calmly and evenly, and the wrench in my chest
loosens its hold.

I realize how I must look, with wild eyes and my hands gripping my
shirt. I take a deep breath and sit back. "Sorry."

The woman smiles and the corners of her eyes crinkle. "No
need to apologize. You were having a panic attack, dear."

Her statement makes sense and somehow I understand. I know what a
panic attack is, and I recall that chest tightening is a symptom. My mind grabs
onto the information and stores it, hungry for any details it can get.

The man stands, and then helps the woman up, before helping me get
to my feet. I use my hands to straighten the shirt I am wearing and then I drop
them to my side, swinging them back and forth nervously.

The woman touches my arm gently. "Do you mind telling us your
name?"

It seems like an odd question for the middle of the night, and I
take a moment to think.

Do I admit that I don't
know who I am?

Deep down inside, someone screams
No!
 
at
me so I grab onto those words
and hold onto them. My eyes dance back to the dresser, which has a small stack
of books. There are names of the authors on the bindings.

Emily Dickinson.

Mark Twain.

Jane Austen.

I grab a name and let it sit on my tongue.

"Jane," I respond.

The couple shares a look.

"Well Jane, you have a safe place to stay until you’re
feeling better," the woman tells me.

"You should get some rest," the man places a firm hand
on my shoulder. "It's three in the morning."

I just nod and then watch as the couple leaves the room. The
door clicks shut behind them, and the light in the room greatly diminishes. I
crawl back into the large bed, since I cannot think of anything else to do. I
could open the door and run, but I'm more afraid of what I might encounter
than what I already have. I turn off the bedside lamp, settle back into the
sheets, and will my mind to rest.

This time when I
wake up, sunlight covers the bed like a warm blanket. I remember the events
that transpired in the early morning
;
waking up,
having a panic attack, meeting the man and woman. I still do not remember
myself, or my past. It is an unsettling feeling, and it creeps deep into my
body and takes root in my nerves. I don't know how to feel okay.

I climb out of bed and stretch, feeling rested. I'm wearing a
large t-shirt and black stretch pants, and I’m not sure if they are mine or if
someone lent them to me. My eyes wander the room and I find a small, black bag
thrown into the corner. It looks out of place, so I grab it from the floor and
place it on the bed, pulling the zipper open. There are a few more outfits;
jeans, shirts, a bathing suit, sweatpants... and I think they may be mine.

There is a soft knock on the door and it creaks open slowly. The old
woman pokes her head into the space. "Good, you're up! Breakfast is almost
ready."

She slips into the room with a cup of something warm. Wisps of
steam rise from her cup and disappear into the air as she approaches me.
"I see you found your bag."

"Yes," I say quickly. "Thank you."

If I want to hide my memory loss, I need to remember to be vague.

"You had a purse too, but it fell off the dock when you
slipped. The current was strong last night, and it is most likely long gone by
now. I hope there was nothing valuable in it," she says with a small
frown.

Only my identity
, I think. 

The woman is staring at me, and I drop my eyes.

"I'm Marie, by the way," she holds her hand out in front
of her.

I shake it out of instinct and offer her a small smile. 

"My husband is Charles," she adds at the end. "Come
down when you're ready."

She disappears back into the hall and I open my bag again, pulling
out the pieces of clothing one by one. Is this all I own, or is there more in a
larger bag somewhere? Do I have a home, with a room like this, full of my own
belongings?

I settle on a loose pair of jeans and a fitted black tee shirt. I
can't bring myself to look in the mirror so I use my fingers to comb through
any knots in my hair. I zip the bag closed and shove it under the bed, feeling
protective of it all of the sudden. It may be all I have left. I take a deep
breath and cross the room, finally venturing out into the hall. 

The hall is long, with large windows on each end. I count six
doors, and there are openings for a staircase on both the right and the left
ends of the hall. My body decides right and I amble across the dark, wooden
floor with bare feet, pausing at the top of the stairs. I look out the window
and keep myself from gasping. Not out of fear, but out of delight. There is an
awning below the window so most of the yard is hidden, but I can see lush green
grass stretching out to meet a stone wall, and against the stone wall splashes
blue waves. The water stretches out further than I can see, and the land curves
to the left.

A glass
clinks
 downstairs
and my attention is drawn away from the window. I move down the stairs slowly,
and the last stair leaves me in the kitchen. The space is large, and painted a
sunny yellow, just like the room I'm staying in upstairs. The cabinets are
white, as well as the appliances, and pots and pans of all sizes hang above an
island in the center of the room. Marie is setting dishes out on an old wooden
table, and when she steps away I count three place settings. Charles is at the
stove, and his back is turned to me but I gather that he is cooking.

Marie looks up at me and motions to one of the chairs. "Come
sit. Breakfast is just about done." 

I do as I'm told, sitting down in the same chair she pointed to. I
have a view out the window here, and my eyes are immediately drawn to the
water. I draw them back across the lawn to see what I couldn't see from above.
There is a stone patio that stretches into the yard, with some sort of pit in
the center. Half of the patio is hidden under the awning, and it stops at the
double doors that are attached to the kitchen. 

"I hope eggs and bacon are okay," Marie says as she
takes a seat next to me. She pushes a glass of water and a small dixie cup
toward me. “Tylenol. Just in case your head still hurts from last night.”

I take the medicine willingly, noticing a slight throb in the back
of my head. I reach up and feel a bump there. I wince and decide it’s best not
to touch it at all.

The food smells delicious, and sounds good, so I assume that it is
something I like. Whoever I am. Charles brings a bowl of eggs to the table,
along with a plate of bacon. There is toast and sliced apples as well. Marie
pours me a glass of orange juice and I take a generous sip.

The food tastes familiar, and I know that I’ve had it before. If
my mind can pull out this sort of recognition, why doesn’t it tell me to
recognize my own face? Charles reads a newspaper while he eats, and Marie
browses through a magazine labeled
By The
Bay
. I appreciate the comfortable silence, and completely clear my plate
while I look out over the water. Seagulls soar overhead, and pelicans dip down
and into the water.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" Marie asks when her own plate is
clear.

"I'm mesmerized," I answer, turning my head toward her.

"It's the main reason we bought this place," Marie looks
at Charles and smiles. "Forty years ago."

"I know this is going to sound like a strange question."
I play with the napkin that is spread across my lap. "Everything from last
night is still fuzzy. Where exactly is
here
?"

"Hampton Harbor, Maine," Charles says. "Do you
remember anything from last night?"

I shake my head no.

Charles sets down his newspaper. "You got off a bus last
night, right in downtown. I only know because I was driving behind the bus at
the time and when you got off, you stopped to help an elderly woman who had
dropped her change purse."

He smiles and I try to recall that moment, but come up empty.

Charles continues. "Then later you came down to the cafe and
walked out onto the small dock, and ended up tripping over some rope laying
loose."

"It was so scary," Marie says and she sits back down.
"One moment you were walking down the dock and the next moment you were
falling."

"And I hit my head?" I ask.

They both nod at the same time.

"When we got to you, you were as still as night, but then
your eyes fluttered open," Marie says, her own eyes growing misty. "I
felt protective of you in that moment. We had a friend of ours carry you to our
car and then we drove you here, to our home. Charles made sure you were okay.
He’s a doctor, just so you know."

"Retired," he adds at the end.

“Well thanks for helping me,” I say. “Especially since you don’t
know me.”

Marie looks out the window. “Of course. We are happy to help.”

"Hampton Harbor, Maine," I repeat. “What day is it?”

“Monday,” Marie answers.

Of what month?
I think. To ask the question would give too much away.

"Are you here on a vacation?" Charles asks.

"An extended stay," I respond, and the words leave my
mouth with out my permission. I take it as a sign that this is what is meant to
be.

Charles and Marie share a look.

"We have a cafe, down on the boardwalk," Marie says.
"We could use some extra help serving customers, if that is something
you'd be interested in. Now that we’re a couple of weeks into June, the
tourists are really pouring into town."

June
.

I perk up.

"That would be great," I say. 

"You start tomorrow," Marie pats my hand and then clears
my plate from in front of me.

I’m not sure why Charles and Marie are being so kind to me, or so
helpful, but I am definitely thankful. I can only hope that my memories will
start to return soon so I can have some answers. Until then, it looks like
Hampton Harbor is going to be my new home.

It’s six-thirty in
the morning and I'm sitting on the back patio, sipping coffee and trying to
wake up. There are solar lanterns lit all around me, but they are beginning to
dim as the horizon changes from a light purple to a dim, orange.

Yesterday Marie took me on a tour of their house, inside and out.
After struggling to reach full consciousness by mid-morning, I learned that I
like coffee. I also learned that I know my way around a kitchen, and was able
to successfully help Marie prepare both lunch and dinner. Now I am sitting in
their perfect backyard, with the sea breeze sweeping across my face.

Hampton Harbor is a tourist town, Marie explains, butting up
against Acadia National Park and boasting itself as a large boating and fishing
town. The wealthy dock their yachts in the southern portion of the harbor, and
even cruise ships find their way into port at certain times of the year. I can
place mental images with each of these objects. I know about yachts, cruises,
and even fishing. It makes me wonder if just by picking up books in a library,
I might be able to help restore my memory bit by bit. I didn't have a reason to
think of these things since waking up, but now that I have, my mind puts them
under lock and key.

"Ready Jane?" Charles calls out the back door.

I take one last sip of my coffee and stand, carrying the cup
inside and to the sink. Yesterday Marie conjured up a work outfit for me. Nice
jean shorts and a white shirt. My hair needs to be pulled up into a ponytail,
and at the café I’ll receive a cropped apron to tie around my waist. I follow
Charles out the front door, to his silver sedan. This will be my first time
leaving their property, and I wonder what other memories will come back to me
as we draw closer to the site of my accident.

We have to travel down a long drive through thick trees, and
eventually come to a two-lane road.  Here the neighbors are few and far
between, and I can only spot a new property when we come upon a mailbox settled
next to another long gravel drive. We travel for ten minutes before we start to
reach neighborhoods, and in five minutes we are in town. I immediately fall in
love with Hampton Harbor. The buildings are all unique and full of character,
and the streets are well maintained. There are tall lampposts every ten feet
along the street, and colorful banners hang from each one. There are large
planters as well, which are full of multicolored flowers. As we drive I can see
slivers of the bay peeking through the buildings. Charles turns left down a
small side street and parks behind a quaint, white building.