The Crush Who Lost Her Memory

My cell-phone tweets as I am lying on the couch, half dozing and other half watching a tennis match on the TV. A message! “Don’t forget the family get-together on Zoom at 8pm this evening. See you there! Love - your cousin, Jill.”

I had planned to forget. I hate these Zoom affairs. It means you have to get dressed. You can’t appear in the picture dressed in a pair of socks. You have to smile at long-lost cousins whose names you can’t remember. You have to say nice things about everyone. And you can’t hide from the probing camera that focuses everywhere. 

So a few minutes before 8 I put on jeans and tee shirt, run my fingers through my hair and Zoom into the gathering. They’re all there, aunts, uncles, untold number of cousins, children and babies. The camera focuses on an old aunt who was whispering in her husband’s ear, “Look at that! He didn’t even bother to shave! No wonder he’s still single!” I heard you auntie, I mutter. And that’s not why I’m still single. Hello, who is that at the far end of the couch?

“I think you should introduce everyone,” I suggest. Otherwise she will remain the gorgeous woman at the end of the couch, won’t she?

So they do. “This is Uncle Leo. He is in Sydney, Australia.” Camera moves. “Meet Auntie Janie. She is Leo’s wife.” Camera moves again. “These are their children, Tom, Dick, Harry. And their wives, Mary, Melanie, Marge.” Camera moves…, more names and more relatives, some spread around the world and some right here around the corner. Hey, what about that gorgeous woman at the end of the couch?

The camera makes one more effort and there she is in full focus. Beautiful! Please don’t let her be in one of those foreign cities.

But she’s not. “Meet Jackie. She’s my neighbor and dropped in for coffee and a chat. I persuaded her to stay and meet my family.”

“Hi Jackie. I’m Matt. How d’you do?” Why do I feel stupid talking to a TV screen?

She smiles.

It took a bit of work on my cousin but I found out that Jackie is single, a financial adviser in a bank and wouldn’t refuse a phone call. I call and we meet for coffee. A few days later we go out for dinner. The next weekend we go for dinner followed by a show and a week later she invites me into her place after the show. Things are going really well.

We date often. Sometimes she stays over at my place for a weekend. Sometimes I stay over at her place for a few days. The relationship doesn’t warm up – it hits boiling point and we talk marriage, children, mortgage, a dog. I take her home to meet my folks and they are delighted. She takes me home to meet hers. They seem pleased. Brothers, sisters, nieces and nephews abound.  

In the middle of the following week I get a phone call from our solar generating power plant. I am the design engineer. The manager is at the plant in the desert in California. I am in New York.

“Pete, we’re on fire! We need you here urgently. How soon can you make it?”

I leave immediately and arrive at LAX five hours later. Hire a car, fight the traffic and 3 hours later I drive into the plant. Chaos reigns. Black smoke is pouring out of a pipe somewhere. A thick column of black smoke is rising into the sky. Four fire engines are trying to maneuver between the rows of solar collectors. Firemen are dragging hoses. Officers are shouting instructions.

The plant manager runs up to me as I get out of the car. “It started last night and they can’t put the fire out. We’re losing a lot of oil. Can you help? Any suggestions will help. What a bloody mess!”

In the end I’m stuck there for a week. I call Jackie in the middle of the week to apologize and say that I’ll be back for the weekend. On Friday she calls me to say that the bank has transferred her to a branch in Florida. I cancel my trip to New York.     

The next weekend is the same. I can fly but she is stuck in Florida. It goes on like this and after two months we are no longer calling each other. Back at home I hear that she has been permanently transferred to Florida.           

Slowly we both forget our plans and dreams. Life continues. I meet Carol, a great woman who lives in Los Angeles which is where I am now spending most of my time. Carol and I get on famously and spend more and more time together. I never hear from Jackie and I guess she has settled in Florida and found a great guy. Carol and I marry and settle into family life with kids, mortgage, dog and a lawn that grows faster than I can mow.  

The years pass, some slowly, some quickly. I see grey hairs on Carol’s head and grey hairs and grey whiskers on mine. The kids are grown up and have left the nest to make their fortunes. The solar energy business has moved into fields that I don’t understand or deal with. I retire. My pension kicks in and the two of us rattle around the empty house. We frequent coffee shops, battle with crossword puzzles, watch movies and read books. A great life. We have a few friends but old-age is cruising the streets. Many of the couples we know are now singles. We decide to sell the house and move into a retirement home while we are still together.

We check out a few different options and finally settle on a place that looks good, is well-kept and tidy. We enjoy a lunch there and the food is adequate and tasty. We down-size. We get rid of collections of things and stuff that we had gathered and treasured over years. Once that is over, we make the move, an exhausting business. It was finally done and we spent a couple of weeks recovering both physically and mentally.

One evening I wander into the lounge alone. Coffee is being served. The usual mob that filters in for coffee hasn’t arrived yet and one lone woman is sitting by herself with a cup in front of her. I grab a cup for myself and wander over to her.   

“Hello, may I join you?”

She smiles up at me and says, “Sure, I’d be delighted. I’m all alone here.”

I sit down and look at her. She is about my age, meaning old. White hair, lots of lines, but a lovely smile.

“Hello again! I am Matt. Pleased to meet you.’

She laughed. “And I am Jackie and I’m pleased to meet you.”

It’s a jolt. Jackie? I take another look. A longer one. After all these years would she still look the same? A resemblance? A particular feature? Did she react when she heard my name? Is she examining me at this moment?

It could be her. Heavier, paler, changed hair color, changed hair style? It was my Jackie all right.

“Jackie, where are you from?”

“Two places,” she answers. “First New York and then Florida.”

“I was also in two places. First New York and then Los Angeles. Perhaps we met in New York a long time ago?”

I watched her searching my face. “I don’t think so, Matt. I had friends there but I’m sure we never met.”

I hesitate for a minute while I search for an answer. One doesn’t question memory in a retirement home.

“I guess we moved in different circles,” I say lamely. “Are you alone here?” I ask.

“My husband is here, but he’s in the frail-care section. Dementia, you know?”

“That’s awful. I’m sorry to hear that.”

She smiled, looked at her watch and said, “I have to go and visit him now. Perhaps we’ll meet here again. And she was gone.

Will she remember me the next time we meet?