Unforgettable

Roughly an hour before lunch, I start putting together our little picnic. Green and red grapes mixed together, strawberries with the tops cut off to look like little hearts. Her favorite bougie crackers, thin crisps baked with olive oil and herbs. Thinly sliced fresh smoked gouda and sharp cheddar cheeses, and thick slices of summer sausage. Terribly unhealthy, the sausage; but given the specialness of today, I’m positive she’ll forgive my slight indulgence. And speaking of indulgences, I also add another of her favorites: a small slice of Black Forest Cake. It’s from the bakery however, as I am a rather poor baker. Since neither of us drink alcohol, I add a bottle of some berry flavored sparkling water and two plastic wine glasses. I go back to the bedroom to change into the same blue and white floral knee-length dress I was wearing when we first met. As I put it on, I’m quite surprised to see that after five years it still fits.

I venture into a new coffee shop on my way home from work. It was rather crowded, but I went through the line relatively fast. I found a small table by the windows and had just started to arrange my cocoa and scone when the most stunning woman I had ever seen came over to my table and sit down. She looked over at me and the realization that the table was occupied hit her big green eyes. She blushed bright scarlet and opened her mouth to say something as her eyes kept getting wider. I chuckled and reassured her, “it’s ok, you can sit here. It doesn’t look like there’s any more open tables.”

She smiled widely, the corners of her eyes crinkling slightly. “You must think I’m an absolute airhead! I’m Camille. Camille Chase,” she said as she nervously dunked her tea bag. I think it was lavender. “You also probably think it’s strange to order tea in a coffee shop, yes?”

“Not even a little bit. This isn’t coffee, either. I know it’s about a million degrees outside, but they make a fantastic hot cocoa here. I’m Sophia Marsters. Honestly, I just love coming here and watching the crowds wander around outside. Would you like to share my scone? It’s blueberry, and I haven’t eaten any of it yet.” We shared that scone, the first of many.

I put on just a bit of make-up, some flats, and wrangle my dull brown (and yes, greying) hair in a ponytail. I top off the look with pair of silver drop earrings with fake ruby hearts on the ends along with a matching necklace and call it good. My wedding rings I never take off, and I touch them to ground myself. I take a deep breath and continue with the preparations. To the picnic hamper I also add two red tapers and cut-glass candle holders (wedding presents from her big brother) as well as a lighter. I grab a thick fluffy pink blanket with multi-colored hearts floating on it, my purse, keys, and head out the door. I load up the car and drive out into the bright, beautiful, warm Florida sunshine.

My lovely bride Camille is there already. “Please,” I joke, “don’t get up.” I spread the blanket out and get the food set up, light the candles, pour the water. “Do you remember that time, Cammy, when we kissed on the beach? Those little girls circled us giggling. And the one had said that it was cool to see two girls kissing. Remember the look on her face when we told her we were married? Man, that was awesome. She was so happy.” I paused, popping grapes and strawberries in my mouth.

We had just gotten out of the water after a bit of swimming and a lot of splashing. I wrapped Camille up in my big neon green beach towel and pulled her in close for a kiss. Moments later, five little girls came running up to us giggling and dancing in a circle around us as six- or seven-year-olds do. “Ooohh, kissy, kissy!” The bravest stopped dancing and asked our names. When we told her, they resumed their little dance with “Cammy and Sophie sitting in a tree, k-i-s-s-i-n-g…” The song we sang as children now come back to haunt us. In a good way. Later one of the moms came up to us and thanked us for being honest with the girls. Said she had been seeing a woman in private, unsure of how her daughter would react. That mom, Rachel, reached out a little later on. Said she introduced her daughter to her girlfriend and was happy to say that it went really well. The five of us grew pretty close afterwards.

“Rachel said to say hi for her. So, “hi” from Rachel, her girlfriend and her daughter. Right now, I can’t seem to remember the daughter’s or the girlfriend’s names. I’m sure it’ll come to me later, though. It usually does.”

I find some jazz on my phone and turn the music up just loud enough to be heard in this peaceful space. I glance around as I eat, hearing the birds calling to each other in the woods off to the east. I’ve lived here all forty-nine years of my life but still can only guess at the names of a few birds. Right now, I can hear the unmistakable pecking of a woodpecker, the caw of crows, the hooting of an owl, the chattering of unseen feathered friends. Every so often, I’ll see a flock take to the sky, perform some impressive aerials, then land on trees just a few feet away from where they started. That stunt reminds me of the scene in “Finding Nemo” with the Moonfish. Anyway, we’re relatively far enough inland that you wouldn’t expect to see cranes, but I spy a pair of them gliding over the trees. I wonder, is there a body of water in that small forest? When your parents showed me this place in October, I really didn’t look at it too closely. Didn’t appreciate how lovely it all really is. It’s February now, nearly noon, already the heat and humidity are starting to get too uncomfortable. Maybe after lunch, I’ll kick off my shoes and run through the trees. Call out greetings to all the wildlife, see if the cranes found some water. If so, I could join them and wade out to cool off. I wouldn’t want them to leave, but I know animals are skittish around humans (rightfully so), so they’d probably take flight as soon as they saw me. I wonder, if there is a stream out there, are there also alligators? Wouldn’t that be something?

I shake off my reverie and look down to discover that I subconsciously packed up the remnants of our picnic. “Caught off guard by the splendor of nature yet again, huh?” I chuckle. “What can I say, my mind wanders much easier these days. I’m going to be fifty in a few months but already feel eighty.” I hold up my hands in mock surrender. “I know, I know. I shouldn’t complain about getting older. Especially today. I just don’t have anyone else to talk to about it. Rachel and her girlfriend are in their thirties, my co-workers, well, you know, they’re all considerably younger.” I listen to the song change over to Natalie Cole’s version of “Unforgettable.” I look around, and seeing no one else here, I turn the music up louder and stand up. “Dance with me, Cammy. It’s just us.” I hold my arms up and dance just like we were taught at the lessons we took before our wedding. “I’m still a terrible dancer, darling. Those lessons were a waste. Mrs. Davidson never could stop me from looking at our feet or counting out loud!”

I was so nervous on our wedding day, could you tell? I really had no reason to be, I knew that there wasn’t anyone else in the universe I wanted to spend eternity with. Your parents liked me then, I think. I know your dad appreciated that we decided to have a very small ceremony as he was paying for it. Just us, the minister (what was her name? Charlotte? Katherine? Carolyn? Something like that). Your parents and brother, Rachel and her daughter, Rachel’s girlfriend and a couple of friends from book club. In lieu of fancy dresses or tuxedos, we went with outfits we already owned. I had on my baby blue dress with the lace accents, and you wore that peach-colored sparkly dress that looked amazing no matter how much you denied it. Rather than a twelve-piece band, one of our book club guys played some soft classical music on his smart speaker. I thought it was perfect having just us under a canopy at the beach right as the sun started its descent. The smell of orange blossoms and the citronella candles lit to ward off the mosquitos perfuming the evening air. Then, of course dinner and dancing at our favorite Thai restaurant, Tamnak Thai. Our first dance as newlyweds to “Unforgettable” went better than I had anticipated, but I’m sure Mrs. Davidson would have been disappointed in me. Sorry for all the times I stepped on your toes!

As the music swelled to its final note, I spun around slowly and came down to the ground less gracefully than I had hoped. “Thank you for the dance, Mrs. Chase.” I turned down the music again and laid on my side. “I guess I ought to get going, darling. I know your family is coming soon and for whatever reason, they are uncomfortable around me. Well, except for your brother. He still texts every so often. I think your parents blame me for this. Like it’s my fault the cancer spread to your brain. Or maybe they wish it was me in that box and not you. That I understand. I wish it, too. That feeling will never go away, darling, but I try to stay focused on all the good we had in our short time together. Waking up every day to that mass of auburn curls, the golden light that appeared every time our eyes met. The stupid pet names we had for each other, bawling our eyes out at sappy movies, singing at the karaoke club, scones and not-coffees at that little shop. Even our dumb arguments that seemed like the end of the world at the time. Of course, the making up part was pretty alright, too. I can still see you blush whenever I got overly affectionate with you when we were in public. You were so shy, and I should have respected that, but you made me so happy I wanted to share our joy with the whole miserable world. Oh! I just remembered something. You and my dad will be quite proud of me. I started volunteering at the VA after work. Mostly I just help patients find their way through that maze of a hospital. I listen to their stories, and it helps me to feel a little closer to my dad. You volunteering at the shelter and always attempting to make me a better person are huge motivators for me to get out of that lonely bed every day. Ugh, I’m doing it again, aren’t I?” Out in the parking lot, I can hear car doors closing. “Okay, my darling, this time I really do need to go. I think you’re getting more visitors, and I’d better vamoose.”

I stand up, fold the blanket, turn off the music and shove the phone in my purse. I shoulder the hamper and place my left hand on Camille’s headstone. “Happy birthday, my sweet angel.” As I’m walking towards the parking lot, her parents greet me with tearful nods and awkward handshakes. Her brother crushes me in a bear hug, kisses the top of my head and tells me that it’s good to see me. I nod and tell him the same. I wait until I’m home, safely ensconced under our blanket to release the floodgates. The day our lives came crashing down begins its loop in my mind.

We're sitting in the freezing cold oncologist’s office, waiting for him to return. Camille pulls her cardigan tighter and I take her hand in mine and try to warm it up. Dr. Harris comes in and sits behind the chair. He takes off his glasses, steeples his long fingers together and sighs. “I’m afraid, Camille, that the news isn’t good. The cancer has unfortunately spread to your brain.” The rest is simply static.

That night at dinner, I meet up with Rachel, her girlfriend and her daughter at Tamnak Thai. Willow! Yes, that’s the daughter’s name, Willow. See, Camille, I knew I’d remember eventually. Now, what’s the girlfriend’s name? She just said it, and I’ve already forgotten! We take a table set for five. I lean the empty chair on my left against the table and place a bright purple Passionflower and a picture of Camille at the beach on the plate as the others get situated. We raise up our drinks and clink them together in Camille’s honor. “Happy birthday, Camille,” I say. “And happy Valentine’s Day!”