Memorycemetery

There are people like me, who just want to walk away and never look back. To forget everything. To become nothing but an individual in the here and the now. A person without a past. A person with nothing to bring them down, except for the absence of that past and the questions left by it. “Who am I?” “Where did I come from?” “Why am I here?”

And then there are people like her that are just that- a past. A memory. Something someone like me would spend years trying to forget.

I remember the first time I met her. The first time I was lost in those damn blue eyes. It was on the city bus one fall afternoon. I was on my way out of town, looking forward to starting my new life.

“Is this seat taken?” She asked politely in her sweet, young voice. Four words that would forever change me. I didn’t argue as I caught her scent. Every now and then I think I catch it on the breeze, and it still makes me light headed.

We rode that damn bus around the city for the rest of the day, until it ended at the station. We’d get to my stop and I’d ask “Are you getting off?”

“No,” she’d smile and reply.

“Neither am I.”

We’d hit it off immediately. We held hands as I walked her home. We were falling in love.

We kissed on her doorstep, and she invited me in. I accepted the offer and soon found myself in bed with her, our sweaty, naked bodies pressing and rubbing together as our hands explored each others unfamiliar architecture.

It was the most satisfying night of my life. We were in love, but we both knew this was just a one night stand This would mean nothing tomorrow, and we’d just be another face in a meaningless memory. I loved her, but I knew I’d have to be gone in the morning.

The morning introduced itself and alerted us of its presence with blinding rays of light pouring through closed blinds. She slept peacefully next to me, a faint smile on closed lips, facing me. I had to ask myself if she was really sleeping. I ran my fingers through her beautiful, silky red hair and kissed her forehead, then went to the bathroom to clean up.

I didn’t know what to do. I wanted to stay, to wake up with her, to stay with her, for her. But I knew I shouldn’t. I wrote my name and phone number on the mirror with her lipstick. It was her choice. I put on my clothes and left, almost on the verge of tears.

I’ve still not heard from her to this day, all these years later. I still think about her. I see her everywhere, only to lose her when I blink. Maybe we really had something. Maybe we were really in love. Or maybe it really was just a one night stand. Maybe we were just two lonely people who found each other that night, only to become a memory. Only fate and time would tell.

I wonder what she’s doing with her life now. Maybe she’s married. Maybe she has a family. Maybe she’s happy. Maybe she still thinks of me, trying to get the courage to punch my number into her phone and call. Maybe she wants to hear my voice as bad as I want to hear hers.

Until the day she calls me, I’ll be waiting. But until that day, I’ll carry on with my normal life. I’ll carry on with my job, with my friends, with nothing more than the memory of a beautiful girl who stole my heart and a one night stand.

Traverse

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