Forget Me Not

I was out of breath, sweat was dripping in my eye, and I could feel a damp, squishing sensation in one of my cheap shoes from the puddle I stepped into trying to get here.

The doors shut behind me, and I walked down the narrow bus isle to my seat. At least I made it, I guess that was a small accomplishment.

Why couldn’t I keep things straight? 

Was it Wednesday, or Tuesday? 

When was that interview 9? Or 9:30? 

I could set timers and alarms on my phone as a reminder, but then I would forget to charge it. 

I could ask my mom to call me, but then I would miss it, because I would be distractedly watering my plants for hours. 

It was actually amazing I even had a place to live, but I guess the fact that my uncle owned the building helped. 

It was almost like some kind of curse, this muddled brain of mine. 

I had always been this way, but when you’re forgetful and you’re a kid, it’s cute. The audience gently laughs and claps, as you run onto stage 10 minutes late with half of your costume on. As an adult you get critical stares, patronizing tones, and just plain avoidance. 

I’ve used rubber bands on my wrists, day planners, alarms, tied string to door knobs, but to no avail. 

As I sat in my seat I stared out the window, maybe today could be different. 

I wasn’t too late to the interview. I could still get there in time. I leaned into my seat and looked out at the city.

Pressing my forehead into the cool glass, I peered out at all the buildings and the people passing by. I could almost feel their stories. A lady with golden curls, was sitting on a bench waiting for the next bus. She was tapping her foot impatiently, or anxiously, it was hard to tell from this distance. A gentleman wearing suspenders was standing near by. Carefully avoiding her personal space. Very chivalrous. The billboard behind her had a large purple dragon holding a cereal box. Not sure dragons would ever eat sugary cereal, but whatever sells right?

The dragon suddenly dropped the cereal box, and small, brightly colored confetti flakes spilled into the street. Swooping out of the billboard, it grabbed the young woman by her shoulders, her hair became wild, as the dragon began to beat its wings. Fire emerged from its mouth, the bus stop itself, became engulfed in flames. Pulling a dagger from his pocket, the suspendered gentleman leaped onto the dragons’ back, and buried it into the neck of the magnificently, terrifying creature. 

I looked around, no one else seemed to see what I was seeing. There was a boy about 13 sitting across from me, earbuds in place gently nodding his head to whatever tune he was listening to. A man in his mid fifties in front of me was reading the paper, people still do that?

I could see the bus drivers’ reflection in the mirror, carefully observing traffic ahead. We continued down the avenue. I looked back, the bus stop was charred and smoking. I shook my head and rubbed my eyes. We started to slow and the familiar woosh of the brakes sounded. The driver opened the doors. 

A family of four, and a man in a black trench coat boarded the bus. The family made their way to the back, the man sat two seats ahead of me, across the isle. 

As the man sat down his trench coat moved, and I saw the flash of a gun in his belt. He turned his head toward the isle, studying each person, covering the gun with his coat again. He answered his phone.

“I have the targets’ landing location, I will send confirmation when the job is done.”

He glanced back at me, and our eyes made contact. I quickly lowered my gaze. I couldn’t let him know I had heard and seen, what I had just heard and seen. Two more stops, he abruptly rose from his seat, and left the bus. I looked back. Pulling out his gun, he was directing his attention upward. What had once been an apartment building, somehow had become a troll-like behemoth. The creature was massive. It had yellow skin, and mossy colored hair. Towering over the traffic in the streets, it started to run. The man in the trench coat aimed and began firing. The monster let out a ghastly wail, and erupted into smoke. Trenchcoat man buttoned his coat, took out his phone, and continued walking down the street, casually, like it happens all the time. 

I again, looked around, no one seemed to notice.

I checked my phone, 12:30.

 What?! 

How could it be 12:30 already?! 

There was definitely no chance of making it to the interview now. 

Who was I kidding? 

How was I ever going to be able to do anything with all of this madness surrounding me?

 If only I could just be normal, I know I would be completely happy. Normal people don't realize how great they have it.

No more dragons, no more trolls. I could wake up, go to the gym, and order a Venti vanilla latte at Starbucks like the rest of natural society.

 I slumped further into my seat. Why not look out the window for a little longer?

 What else was I doing today? 

I remembered the day I told my teachers that a vampire was hiding in the bathroom. I was 7. I refused to come out of the stall I had locked myself into. My knuckles were white from gripping a wooden pencil like a stake in my hand, when mom came to pick me up. She told them I just had a wild imagination. I guess I did. She always said it was my gift, and encouraged me to write it down, to try and nurture it instead of it being a constant obstacle. 

That was my last day of public school.

Mom gave me my first journal. I could write down everything I saw. All the things that made me forget the real world. I quickly ran out of room, and she gave me another. Writing was my only sanity at times. As I get older the list of people that can handle my “imagination” and "forgetfulness" has become a short one.

The bus made its way through the city. People came and went, the boy with the ear buds left, and was replaced with an old man carrying a large duffel bag. As he shuffled down the isle, he had a difficult time maneuvering it along with him. Sitting across from me, he winked. Did something in his bag just move?

I quickly turned my head and resumed my position of observing out the window, that was much safer. I felt warm air against my neck.

I looked back toward the isle. There was no more isle. Where there were once seats, now was a field. A field of blue flowers. Forget Me Nots. I took a deep breath, the warm air was a relief to my lungs. My face felt as if it was glowing in the suns’ warmth. I stepped farther into the field of flowers, kneeling down I plucked one of the Forget Me Nots, and twirled it between my fingers. I opened up the notebook I keep in my back pocket, and put one between the pages. Carefully closing it, I tucked my notebook away again. The meadow was surreal, every flower was perfect. I sighed. I needed rest, laying down, the petals brushed my face. So tired, my eyes felt heavy. 

I was falling, I felt like I couldn't open my eyes. Panic took over, with all my strength I pulled myself back into consciousness. Odd. I must've dozed off, and was now back on the bus. Slightly less enchanting than a field of perfect flowers. The odor of stale donuts, and exhaust drifting into my nostrils. Wrinkling my nose, I turned my head once again to the window. The sun was fading into the sky. I could see people in their cars at the stoplight next to us. A man in his green Suburu, and a little girl in the backseat shoving French fries quickly into her mouth. A woman in her minivan, reapplying lipstick in the mirror. A young couple in their 20’s vaping, and filling their small Prius with toxic smoke, how ironic.

 I thought back to my nonexistent interview. My mom had asked me why I would interview for a job at a bank, when I had the talents I had. I told her I just wanted to fit in.

Fitting in would make me happy, I knew it. 

I remember she shrugged her shoulders and told me a square peg could never be happy in a round hole, and if you still force it in, it leaves too much corner space. 

Whatever that meant. 

Maybe she was right. 

I was just meant to be “off” forever. 

I looked again across the isle, the old man and his duffel bag were still there. I wonder if he had to buy an extra ticket for that thing, it was huge. Didn’t they have storage compartments for bags that size? He must've felt my eyes on him, because he turned to face me. 

His wrinkles became smooth, and his hair now a soft brown color. Actually it was a brown I’d never seen before on a person. It reminded me of the coat of a deer, or a rabbit. His eyes shifted color, from blue, to grey, and finally violet. Never taking his stare from mine, he reached down to the duffel bag and pulled something out of it. A Pen. Without a word, he put it down on the seat next to me, grabbed his bag and stepped off the bus.

I blinked. The sun had set now. Street lights were reflecting on the windows, and the bus had come full circle. Here was my stop. It felt like I had spent days on the bus. I looked down at my phone. 8:30pm, 3 missed calls from mom. And 4 missed texts. My back was stiffening up. City buses aren’t meant for comfortable traveling. I was hungry, starving even. Grabbing my small purse, and my phone, I stood up as soon as I heard the breaks. I felt for my notebook in my pocket. As I stepped into the isle, I saw the pen. Benignly, resting on the floor of the bus. That’s strange. I picked it up. It was blue, the same color as the Forget Me Nots…. The Forget Me Nots!

I pulled out my notebook and opened it, there was the tiny blue flower. 

Maybe I didn’t need to be normal to be happy…

Someone coughed.

I glanced up and realized the bus driver was waiting for me to decide what I was doing. I smiled at him, and I sat down again. I needed to write, and this was the perfect spot for inspiration.