Forget Me Not

Chapter Nine

Jason invited Rianne over to his apartment to repaint his bedroom walls, which he needed to do in a day. Since she didn’t really have any plans for the weekend, she came over to help him. He was repainting his plain white walls with a cool, medium shade of teal.

They started at around ten in the morning as she arrived late. She’d been having these vague dreams about Sparks’ letters, and in them she was Splash. It seemed all too real. She needed to clear her head so she hurried over to Jason’s.

They had pizza and some dim sum for lunch, then went back to work. It was almost six in the evening and they were almost done but pondered on how to make the room livelier. Rianne wrinkled her nose out of habit, unable to think of the perfect idea for an accent.

Suddenly, Jason brushed paint over her nose, leaving a huge white dot. He stuck his tongue out like a little kid while laughing his head off. She grabbed a can of white paint, dipped her brush in it and did one long swoosh on his arm. They were running around like little children in his room, splattering each other with paint, not caring about the mess they were making. 

Exhausted, they lay on the floor as they gasped for air. Then, they saw what they had done to the room: The white and mustard paint that was splattered all over jived perfectly with the teal background, creating our own Jackson Pollock painting.

“Are you keeping the design?” Rianne asked, chuckling.

“Of course, this is something to remember you by,” Jason answered with a grin.

They both fell silent.

As Rianne glanced over to him, she noticed the shirt he was wearing.

“Didn’t I give you that for your birthday?” she said, pulling at the sleeve.

“Yup. We just made it better with this abstract design in water-based paint.”

There was silence again. The déjà vu made her feel a little dizzy. She covered her eyes for a moment.

“Can I ask you a question?” Rianne said.

“Sure. What is it?”

“Last I remember, Yssa was trying to set me up with guys. Was she successful? I can’t remember and I’m wondering if finding that guy or the attempt to find a guy has anything to do with my situation…”

“Yes.” That was an answer she didn’t expect from him. “Yssa did find you a match. I don’t really know what happened to him before and after your accident. No one’s heard from him and I doubt you would want to. Also, I don’t think I am the right person to ask about him. I never liked the guy.”

Rianne sat up, eager to ask more questions.

“Why didn’t you like him? I thought he was the perfect match for me? Was he arrogant? Too crazy? Indifferent?” she began to bombard Jason with questions but he kept silent, as if thinking whether he should say anything or not.

“Come on, just tell me. I want a little piece of my life back even if it is just through your memories,” she pleaded in desperation.

“I don’t know if I should be saying this but here it goes… I never liked him because… I hated how much he took care of you, hated that you were his world, how he accepted you—the good and the bad—and he’d be even amused at your quirks that some people found annoying. I hated that he understood you well enough to know what you’re thinking the moment you wrinkle your nose. But most of all, I hated how much you loved him and how your eyes lit up every time you saw him—even after a rough day. He was the only person who could make you happy,” he said, as he looked at her intently.

And right then and there, Rianne fell in love with the way Jason described him to me. His mixture of sincerity and frustration about this perfect match made her want to know more about the missing pieces of her life. She desperately wanted to know who this man was.

This perfect match was what was racing in her mind aside from the fact that Rianne didn't know how to react to his confession or if he was even doing that. She didn't want to over think things. Jason was her best friend and maybe he was scared of being replaced. She wanted to assure him that he won't lose a place in her heart but she couldn't find the right words to say so that they wouldn't have any misunderstandings.

 “Forget what I said and move on with your life. You’re lucky because you get to start fresh without the trauma or rejection or anything else,” Jason said firmly.

She let their conversation end there for now. But her mind was racing. He was wrong. I wasn’t lucky. I might never feel the happiness of being in love ever again. Where was this man now? Was he also searching for me?