What We Forget, The Body Remembers

The vehicle rolls to a stop by our camping site.

Everything within me yells to leap into the woods. Leaping isn’t dramatic enough. Maybe frolicking. That’s way more dramatic, and oddly perfect for what pulses through me right now.

It only took several arguments for Cameron, my shadow of five years, to agree to come to this place. He used every excuse in his toolbox, and with a flick of my lock pick, I dismantled them.

Along with his composure.

I take a deep inhale. Damp earth and something… familiar fills the air. Something that feels oddly like a home I’ve been looking for.

“This place is perfect. Why wouldn’t you want to come here?”

He mutters incoherent words, lugging the bags out of his mustang. I’m sure if I develop a decoder for him it would finally explain the past he avoids so much. Instead, I’m stuck staring at his wall where the words lose their enunciation just as they cross the barrier.

“I’ll get twigs for the fire,” I say, heading into the unknown before he can rope me back to the campsite.

With each step into the woods, my feet drift north. I know I passed this cedar tree, with fresh claw marks embedded into its bark. I distinctly remember the luscious ivy crawling its way up that other cedar tree. As if it’s reaching for the sun, only to be met by the moon.

A gentle breeze moves through, sending a shiver down my spine. The cedar trees sway with it, the scent calming the haunting ache in my chest. It never goes away, but in this moment, it settles into something I’ve never felt before.

Peace.

But there’s no time for that. The moon shines bright ahead and I’ve only found a twig. Not like I was looking for them.

What I’m looking for isn’t found on the ground, it’s in the heart. And it’s here. I know it is. It’s in the air guiding me long before I realize it’s been holding my hand.

Cedar.

That’s what it was.

I rarely stop long enough to notice how beautiful nature really is. Snakes wrap around tree limbs, their beady eyes follow along my wandering. I swear there’s a pink-tipped sulfur butterfly floating by somewhere. Even a frog hopped along until a crow dove past him before disappearing into the dark.

A loud scream erupts further north.

My chest tightens. There’s the ache again. Instead of looming over me, it pulls me forward. My steps pick up speed until I can barely breathe.

I need to get there.

Whoever it is, they need me. The pain. The fear. It’s all bundled into a gut-wrenching roar that continues as I get closer.

Crows burst in the air, scattering in every direction. Except for one. It dives back into the woods, landing on a branch before me.

My steps slow, but my pulse doesn’t—it quickens.

It has a scythe scar along its right wing. The Reaper has come to offer freedom from this wretched world. But I’m not ready, I need to get to whoever is screaming.

I push forward anyway.

Fog rolls through the forest, unwelcoming to say the least. I can barely see as it is.

“Olivia!” Cameron’s voice echoes through the trees.

My phone vibrates in my hand.

Not now. Someone needs me.

Or maybe I need that someone.

I step toward the scream—then back.

Another roar, but not from whoever screamed before. A bear.

Goosebumps erupt down my arm. The snake slithers off the branch.

You know… maybe Reaper had a good point. Going there may bring death in a very gruesome way.

The air shifts, cedar and… jasmine swirl in the air, kicking up leaves before fluttering back onto the ground.

Jasmine.

What an odd scent to have when there are no flowers around here. Where would it be coming from?

Another scream bursts through the fog, and I move again.

A low growl echoes from the darkness.

Oh, for fuck’s sake. Does Fate really not want me to help this person, who is obviously in need of help?

Two golden eyes cut through the fog before she steps forward.

A lioness. Covered in blood and dirt. Her head is low, a soft whimper escapes as she steps closer. Another lion, with one eye all white and the other icy blue moves in. More gashes along its neck and legs.

I’m pretty sure these two were not—another scream.

I step forward, both the lions move in, pushing me back. Growling, teeth bared.

Okay. Maybe I’ll slowly walk around—nope. They moved with me.

“There is someone up there that needs me!”

I wave my hands in the air as if that’ll change their stance. It doesn’t. They growl even more.

I back away until they sit, tails wrapping around them like sentinels at rest. I snap a quick photo because I know Cameron wouldn’t believe what I’m seeing.

I turn on my heels, walking toward the campsite—against my wishes.

The crow, Reaper, dives down and pecks at my heels.

“Ow! Alright I’m going!”

My steps pick up speed with my phone clenched in one hand and a twig in the other.

The haunting ache still pulls me back, but the need for safety keeps me focused on the campsite ahead.

* * *

Four days later and I’m nearly clawing at my skin.

Everybody’s shoulders are hunched over, eyes locked on their phones, completely oblivious to how absolutely gorgeous today is. The sun shines brightly with no clouds in sight and these idiots are more worried about what some stranger is complaining about on their tiny phones.

Am I bitter today? Yes.

I want to go back to that campsite. I want to find whoever that person was that screamed. Are they alive? Did they die by the bear?

Instead, I’m in line getting coffee at Brew & Stew.

It was the first time this haunting ache that follows me lifted and offered an ounce of peace. An ounce of what home could feel like.

Instead, I’m given coffee with fewer ounces than what I paid for.

“I didn’t buy an espresso shot. Why isn’t it filled all the way up?”

The barista offers a flat smile. “We’re out of grande sizes. That is a venti cup.”

“You couldn’t fill the whole thing?”

It’s not my fault your crew failed to order the right amount of products. I don’t dare say that given how her eyes narrowed, peering down on me like a peasant.

“You didn’t pay for a venti, you paid for a grande.” She rolls her eyes, returning to the machine.

I grab the cup, offer a mocking smile, pressing down on the lid with my middle finger and head out.

I step onto the sidewalk, slide my sunglasses down from the top of my head, and sip on my happy beans.

A gentle breeze moves through downtown, offering a cool touch on the skin from the beating sun. A soft waft of cedar drifts down the sidewalk, my shoulders relax instantly and my steps finally slow down.

Where is that coming from?

I lift onto my tip-toes, peering through the crowds on the streets. Nobody looks up—typical. If it’s not on their phones, then it doesn’t exist.

But this ache does. This pull does. But whoever it belongs to mustn’t exist.

Maybe it’s all in my mind. That’s what Cameron would say. Any time something pulls me to an unknown area, or flashes of a shadow figure looming—he claims it’s nothing real, it’s all in my head to make sense of the gaps of my memories.

But it’s still there no matter how hard I push it away.

And now, my steps are quickening no matter how hard I fight this pull. My heart pounds, frantically searching for the source just as much as I am. I cross the street, following the cedar onto Rose Boulevard toward Elliott’s Pub.

Nobody stands out in the crowd. Nothing screams this is the scent you’re looking for—but it does scream someone drowning in whiskey.

I release a long breath, and turn back.

Maybe it really is all made up.

A phantom smell from a lifetime that isn’t mine anymore.

* * *

The sun spears through the windows, forcing me awake against my will.

My phone vibrates aggressively on the floor until it knocks up against a whiskey bottle.

Fuck.

What day is this?

I glance at my phone. Thirty messages. Seems a bit excessive, but that’s my brother.

“Why are you at the bunker, Chase?” is his last text. I ignore him, like all the others.

It was the closest place to crash after an all-night bender. I should’ve known better than to use his code to get into the place beneath Elliott’s Pub.

I had no choice but to stay here, considering my bike is useless now. That damn crow chewed through one of the wires before flying off, leaving me nothing but his cackles.

You’d think he’d offer wisdom for saving its life, but no. He only offers pecks, loud caws, and sabotaging a perfectly good bike. He even sports a scythe scar for proof he cheated Death.

I stagger across the cluttered floor of bottles, finding my shoes and my shirt.

Last night might have been too much. But not enough to fill the void in my chest. It wasn’t enough to drown the thoughts. And it’s definitely not enough to stifle this throbbing ache of wounds from that damn bear.

I shoot off a text to my mechanic, bypassing my brother.

He responds anyway.

“What happened to your bike?” he sends before I finish my response to the mechanic.

The sun’s rays greet me as I open the door. I fumble a response back to my brother and head toward Brew & Stew.

The pub isn’t exactly welcoming. It prefers to side with the betrayal named Cameron than its own nephew. But that’s what those closest to you are good for.

Taking what isn’t yours. Lying to maintain their power.

Just like she did.

The crowd bustles through the sidewalks without even noticing my limp. Or that cedar and whiskey trail behind me. Mostly whiskey.

I reach for my sunglasses on my head—not there.

Figures.

I turn on Rose Boulevard, refusing to look inside the pub.

My chest burns, either from the whiskey or from… jasmine.

I stop, circling my surroundings.

It’s her.

I haven’t seen her in years, but I know her scent from anywhere. Even if I try to erase the memories, replace it with a tulip or a daffodil, she remains. That damn flower pops up all over my cabin in the woods. I’ve ripped them out three times, and they grow back more aggressively.

She holds the one thing I swear I’d never give. Then crushes it day by day, leaving this sickening void I can’t ever fill.

Not that I want to. I want the pain. It’s better than the constant ache that fills in its place.

My fist tightens.

Why is she out here? Shouldn’t she be frolicking in her fortress while she waits for me, as she claims? She’d likely be sitting at our old spot, plotting another sabotage of what little is left of my life.

Maybe it’s the whiskey muddying my mind, playing tricks on me like she did.

I scan the area again, slowly stepping toward the coffee shop. The scent grows stronger by the second. But I don’t see her.

I don’t want to see her. But my need drags me forward regardless.

I turn onto Port Lane, and slam into someone.

No. Not just someone.

Jasmine weaves through, stitching itself into my chest against my will.

A smile blooms even when I force it down.

There she is.

Exactly how I remember her.

Espresso hair knotted on top of her head. A sun dress that even the sun would envy. Oversized sunglasses with a scowl to match.

“Olive—”

I’ve said her nickname more times than I can count. Each time her cheeks shaded into the perfect pink. Her smile widened until it reached her eyes. She’s the most alive in those moments. Her eyes brighten into a vivid evergreen. My favorite color.

But now?

No reaction. No smile.

“What the—” She freezes, leaping back. Her sunglasses slip.

No evergreen eyes. Nothing.

“FUCK THAT’S HOT!”

She pulls at her coffee-soaked dress that clings to her body.

My heart drops.

Her scowl floods my mind all over again, reminding me of every moment we had together. But not those lifeless brown eyes.

She blinks up at me. Says nothing. Just glares at me like I’m a stranger.

“Watch where you’re going!” She groans, pushes past me and walks away like I never meant anything to her.

Just like the coffee all over the sidewalk.