Remember Me

Chapter 7

When Blake woke up, the first thought that popped into his mind was that mental note he had made to himself in the café the previous day: the box filled with pictures. These were pictures of his Margot, and they could potentially lead to someone remembering her. He felt a little hopeful in the midst of all his darkness. Finding someone who remembered her would ease away some of the aching pain he was feeling at that very moment, it would leave him feeling better, and his grieving process towards Margot would be complete.

Sometimes he wished he had never met Margot. But who else would’ve had thought him how to make the most delicious pancakes? Who would have thought him that there was beauty in everything? How would he have known that someone could feel so much simply by looking into someone’s eyes? Margot had made him better; she had showed him so much. Blake didn’t want to forget her, it’s just that he could never do that, but he felt like he needed to let her go, even if it made him cry, even if the pain in his chest got bigger each time he thought about it, even if he felt he was betraying her when he touched another woman. Blake promised to himself that he would let her go after he found at least something that certified to others that she had, in fact, existed. Only when he found that little proof he would set her free.

He decided to go look for the box immediately, as he stood up from the bed, a sharp pain in his wrist stopped his movement, and he remembered the terrible episode he had had in the woods. He felt terrible for doing that, had Margot’s soul seen that? She would’ve been scared, he thought. She was always so delicate, so calm. He looked down at his hand and he noticed he had a bandage on it, and his mind concluded that Marc had been in the house last night. Marc was a paramedic, and he knew Amanda could never have done that; she could barely put a band aid the right way. He wondered what Marc might have thought of him; finally, he could say that his life was way better than Blake’s.

When he got downstairs, he found Marc and Amanda sitting in the kitchen eating breakfast. He was really hungry, but he needed to find the box first so he could show Amanda and Marc and see if they remembered her.

Blake dashed through the kitchen, muttered a good morning and headed in the direction of the basement.

“Blake! Where are you going? Come here just a minute” Amanda yelled, and Blake went back to the kitchen.

“I need the box” he said, feeling the urgency to look for the box straight away.

“What box?” she asked, and Marc looked at him in a serious way, sort of like he was a mental patient. Why was he acting that way towards Blake?

“A box with pictures in the basement. I need to show you guys something” he explained, and with that, stormed off.

“Alright, don’t take too long, we have to talk to you” she yelled. Marc stayed silent, and he looked as if he was lost in thought. He then looked at Amanda and said:

“You weren’t lying when you told me he was a wreck”. Amanda just nodded in response, and ate her food quietly, thinking about what she would have to tell Blake in a few minutes.

The basement was a mess, Blake had to walk over all sorts of stuff, magazines, old books, and boxes and more boxes probably filled with stuff from their childhood. He remembered the box he was looking for very well. It was black, it looked like a shoebox but it was made of a different material, a stronger, more resistant one. He roamed around the basement for a while, careful not to trip, and then he saw it. His heart started to race when he was opening the lid, what if the pictures weren’t there anymore? He was starting to doubt himself even more now; maybe his mind was playing tricks on him. He opened the lid, and to his relief there were his beloved pictures. The first one he saw was one of Margot and him on a lake. The memories of that day filled his brain; he had been so happy. He remembered that that day Margot had wanted to go on one of their spontaneous road trips, and they ended up in that lake 2 hours later. She was wearing a pretty pink dress with a floral pattern, and she was smiling big for the camera, Blake putting an arm around her. There was something that stood out in every picture he had of Margot, though, and that was the fact that she always looked paler than she was. Blake never understood why, but he just figured it was the lighting or his camera; he never put much thought into it. Relieved he found the pictures, he went upstairs quickly, excited to show them to Amanda and Marc.