Memories

Memories Returned

Second chances don't come along often. Fate will sometimes smile on those who truly want another chance, but you have to know, if you blow it this time, there's no hope for a third.

A week after our visit I was still going over and over the conversation with the guy from the hospital. I kept thinking of things I should have said and analyzing his every word and expression. He must think I'm an idiot for taking off like I had. I'd never be able to show my face again.

Two weeks after our visit I received a small padded envelope in the mail from the rescue company with nothing but the company logo and my address on it. I knew it couldn't be a bill, but there was something bulky, yet not too heavy inside. I put it on my table and stared at it as if it might bite me if I opened it. What could it be? Was it from him? I knew I'd have to open it to see, but I was enjoying the anticipation fluttering in my stomach.

Deciding to change first, I took it with me and threw it on the bed until I was ready. Once in more comfortable clothes I gathered up courage enough to open it. I couldn't believe how shaky my fingers were as I tore the flap. Slowly I pulled out a sparkly hair clip and a post-it note. I looked, but there was nothing else. The note wasn't signed, it just read: Thought this might be yours. Didn't want to throw away something that might have sentimental value or be a family heirloom. That was it; no indication who sent it. I still didn't know if it was from him or someone else. It was a guys' handwriting, but if it was from him, why hadn't he signed it?

I turned the clip over and took a good look at it. There was no way it was mine. The rhinestone bow didn't look especially old, but that didn't mean it couldn't have sentimental value. Whomever lost it must be devastated. I put it on my bedside table and decided to deal with it in the morning.

I was actually relieved it didn't have anything to do with me. If he had sent me a gift, I don't know what I would have done; it would be too disturbing to have some guy I didn't really know sending me stuff. Even this guy. Though, if I were completely honest, I may also have felt a little disappointment.

I went back and forth about what to do as I sat watching TV. Should I mail it back or return it in person? It would give me an excuse to go look for him again. I finally made up my mind to return it myself and went to bed. It took a long time for me to fall asleep thinking about seeing him again. What would I say? My mind tortured me all night with random scenes of the two of us talking, or just standing and staring at each other. The chronic dream about our first meeting in Okinawa twenty years ago splintered into a whole series of new scenarios. When I finally woke up I felt almost feverish and exhausted from lack of deep sleep.

The mirror told me there was no way I could show up in front of him looking like a half-alive zombie. I decided to wait another day before returning it. The dreams had reminded me of the jacket and if he truly was the guy from that night I should probably return it now I had the chance.

Maybe it would help sever any old connections between us and I'd stop having 'the dream'. Not that I necessarily wanted to stop, but it seemed weird now that I'd actually met him again.

I had a few hours before my first interview for a new article I was working on, so I started pulling boxes from the closet I used for storage. A lot of stupid things popped out and it hit me I should probably start throwing stuff away since I was going through it all anyway.

Most of it was from my childhood, and I couldn't remember now why I'd felt the need to keep it. Numerous stuffed animals and random pieces of paper got shoved into a garbage bag along with old cards and magazines. I didn't even bother reading the old letters my best friend and I had passed between classes; adding them to the already over-full bag.