Un-forget Me

I always wanted to be remembered. It didn’t have to be anything significant, it’s not like I was asking for a Nobel Peace Prize, I just wanted to matter to someone. For so long I felt insignificant. Everyone around me made me feel that way, my parents, my friends, my cat that ran away and had babies with an alley cat. A British Shorthair of all cats, she’d get way more love from me than that heavy-coated vermin but I guess love conquers all. 

That’s why I always wondered if you’d be happy to see me. If you missed me like I missed you. I’m sure of it seeing how bland your life was. How many cars can one have in their garage and how much square footage of house does one need until it gets redundant. We were different, we had a love that surpassed the superficial. One that was so fiery even the hot firefighters downtown couldn’t extinguish our flame. But they say that wildfire smoke can travel hundreds and thousands of miles, and that’s exactly what I did when you put out your flame and left me burning by myself. 

It took a while, but today was finally the day you we’re coming home. 

It’s been 4 years, 6 months, 2 days, 9 hours, 34 minutes, and 56 seconds since I last saw you.

I opted to paint my lips burgundy red and made sure to sharply outline my cupids bow since I remember how much you loved it. You called it sexy. I stopped doing it for a while because I didn’t want anyone else to look at me the way you did. I’ll never forget that look. Like a lion looks at a gazelle right before it’s about to rip it apart. Passionate. Determined. Pitiful.

Willow opened the door on one knock, a sigh of relief escaped from her lips. It’s been 4 years and she still acted as if you were newlyweds, it was so pathetic that it was almost nauseating. After spending nearly two months working for her, I saw what you saw in her; she was sweet, a little airheaded but I’m sure that’s what drew you in. You were always intimidated by intelligent women, me. She wanted to please you constantly, I almost felt bad for her. Even when you weren’t there, she “took care” of herself like she was being watched through a camera that only she could see. It made me question if putting so many chemicals on your face should be considered self-care at this point. Everything is anti-aging when she was barely 30 and took pride that she looked like she was in her mid 20s as if it was decades ago. 

I, on the other hand, preferred natural beauty. Wrinkles tell a story; a line between your eyebrows indicated that you either had an unfortunate life or you were a grump, while smile lines showed that you had a happy life, or at least you were an optimist. Like I am, no matter what we went through I remained positive. I’m an optimist. A gem. 

She gave an insincere smile, veneers so big it was cartoonish. Even her smile lines were a lie, I refused to believe someone living such a shallow life could genuinely be happy. Maybe when you die and she inherits your fortune will she finally smile for real. As she turned to look inside my face contorted in disgust but I adjusted quickly, like I usually did, into a smile once she turned back. I’m an optimist. A gem.

“Looloo!” Emma came running to me and I picked her up placing her on my hip. She was light for a 4-year-old, not a concerning weight but enough to know that her mom made sure she consistently remained a size small. I could already see the years of body dysmorphia and eating disorders coming, it’s unfortunate that’ll only be the tip of the iceberg. 

If only you saw me with Emma, you’d be eating your words right now. She adored me and you’d regret saying I wasn’t ready to be a mom. You projected your own fears onto me, years of suffering in public housing as a kid made you crave wealth beyond financial stability. I, at least expected you to get someone genuinely interested in being a parent. You were the last person I thought would fall for the gold digger trap, not saying that the woman who took selfies in her yoga pants with her butt unnaturally sticking out while I fed her daughter was a gold digger, but if the shoe fits wear it.

Emma couldn’t stop talking about you too. She was excited that you were coming home. I wish I could tell her how excited I was. How I waited 4 years for this moment, to see that same look in your eyes. Passionate. Determined. Pitiful.

Willow dragged me to help her pick an outfit for you. Her walk-in closet had enough space for her, me, and Emma who couldn’t sit still. She was constantly trying to show me something, to get my attention somehow.

“Looloo, do I look pretty?” She asked for the seventh time. But of course, me being me, I complimented her and acted like she was the most amazing thing I ever saw. I’m an optimist. A gem.

A few times she glanced at her mom, trying to seek approval from the #yogamom. Your daughter was far from a woman and she was already exhibiting signs of daddy and mommy issues. I already knew she’d never be enough for you, or Willow, or herself. And no matter what I said to try to save her from her inevitable doom I’d just be another nanny on the list of nannies that she’d forget about. Another person that I wasn’t enough for. 

Emma ran out of the room and Willow finally looked up from her phone, she couldn’t wait for the kid to leave. She complimented my lipstick for the first time. At that point I’d been there for almost four hours and she was only now noticing, what a selfish prick.

“I’m so sorry about Emma, she’s driving me crazy.” She took a shot from the bottle of Bacardi 151 that she pulled out from a shoebox. 75.5% alcohol. 100% discontinued. “She’s so excited her dad is coming home; she has an endless amount of energy. She kept me up night; I almost didn’t get my 8 hours.” That should be an Instagram caption: my daughter didn’t leave me alone last night so I almost didn’t get my 8 hours of sleep #momoftheyear #daydrinking #whydowehavekidsagain

“Well, I’m glad I’m here to help.” 

“Yes, I need you to help me pick out a dress. Something sexy yet classy.” I sat on the bench in the middle of the room as Willow tried on dress after dress. I finally understood how men felt when they accompanied their wife to go shopping. This was more exhausting than chasing after Emma for an hour. All the dresses were variations of the same skin tight dress that left nothing for the imagination. The definition of classy must’ve changed. 

She tossed a dress on my lap, “you have to try this one on, it’s a bit big on me but it should fit you perfectly.” Did she indirectly call me fat? I tried to protest but she insisted and I was left with no choice. As I changed two photos fell out of my pocket, both faced down. She picked one up faster than I could and I stuffed the other one in my bra.

“Oh my gosh, Looloo– congratulations!” She squealed and gave me a tight hug, her fake breasts like rocks piercing into my chest. “Tell me everything!”

“We’ve been together for about 6 years. I met him in college during a calculus class–we had the worst professor ever and we bonded over how much we both wanted to drop the class. He was the only person that really saw me and accepted me for who I was. I didn’t believe in soulmates before but I feel like he’s the one. It hasn’t been all easy though. After graduation he struggled to find a good job and the company that hired him worked him to the bone. It was my idea for him to start his own business, we built it from the ground up together and it’s doing quite well now. So, this seems like the natural next step. I haven’t told him yet but I think he’ll be happy to find out.” 

“He better be happy, or I’ll have a word with him,” she threatened, she was so tiny that there was nothing remotely scary about her. I bet I could take her ten times over. “You should bring him over for dinner sometime, we would love to meet.” Her cartoon teeth were out again.

“You’ll see him soon for sure.” 

She changed the topic to herself and you. Every memory she gushed about revolved around an amazing vacation, a lavish date night, blah, blah, blah. Nothing about you as a person, or a partner. She wasn’t capable of loving anyone else but herself. She’d sell Emma for a few thousand more followers if she could. She’s selfish. A leech. A bitc–

“Daddy!” Emma yelled from downstairs with Willow not too far behind.

“Princess, I missed you so much.” It was the first time I heard your voice in 4 years, 6 months, 2 days, 14 hours, 7 minutes, and 21 seconds. My heart skipped a beat as chills ran down my spine. My hands were clammy like they were when we had our first kiss and you told me you hated the word clammy like girls hate the word panties. I didn’t want to walk but run down the stairs and tackle you into a hug just like Emma and Willow but I had to control myself. 

Watching Willow kiss you was the worst thing ever. Seeing your hand move past her lower back and grab her butt in front of Emma. You didn’t respect her. She didn’t even respect herself. 

“Daddy this is Looloo.” I was so caught up that I didn’t see Emma standing next to me, clinging to my leg. Willow turned around, cartoon teeth fully out and blushing red. When you first laid eyes on me your eyes widened and twinkled as your eyebrows furrowed. Passionate. You remembered. You were happy to see me.

“Oh my gosh.” No one cares about your gosh. “I’m so sorry Looloo, I was caught in the moment. This is Matthew, my husband. And Matthew this is Looloo, the new nanny I’ve been telling you about. But I hate the word nanny, she’s basically family now.” Willow gave me a side hug and you didn’t look away from me once, no matter how much Willow’s fake boobs bounced.

“Looloo, huh? I’ve heard a lot about you, it’s nice to finally meet you.” You shook my hand when you should’ve kissed me and grabbed my butt in front of Emma. 

I couldn’t get to you with Emma all over me and Willow all over you. I could tell you didn’t care about whatever she was ranting about in the kitchen because you kept looking past her to look at me. You really shouldn’t have made it so obvious how much you wanted me. At least I had enough self-control to glance occasionally while you practically undressed me with your eyes.

“I’ll be back hon, I have to make a phone call,” you said, glancing at me before making your way upstairs. My cue.

I asked Emma if she wanted to play dolls instead and she innocently agreed, giving me a reason to go upstairs to meet you. The climb up the stairs felt like a 4-hour long hike with how fast my heart was beating. 4 years, 6 months, 2 days, 15 hours, 43 minutes, and 46 seconds of waiting finally led up to this moment. The moment where you’d kiss me and tell me how much you missed me, that it was all a mistake and you regretted every second of it.

As I made my way down the hallway, I was yanked into the guest room and pinned against the closed door. It was you. “What the fuck are you doing here, Sarah? Are you insane?” How I missed hearing you say my name. You got so much buffer since I last saw you, you were hurting my shoulder a bit but it was kind of hot. 

“I’m here to take you back of course. You think I don’t know? By the way, I know you almost died hearing them call me Looloo. Does Willow even know the Fifth Element is your favorite movie?” 

“Know what? What are you talking about?” You were so cute when you frantically whispered like the house wasn’t big enough to talk normally and still have no one hear you. It was obvious that you grew up in the projects, you were used to thin walls.

“That your marriage is a sham. I mean come on Mattie who gets married 5 months after the end of a 6-year relationship and is actually happy? You don’t love her; you were just confused and she took advantage of you at your lowest. I must admit that it was hard finding you and I didn’t expect to work here for two months but I’m glad I did because I know for sure now that she doesn’t appreciate you. She doesn’t love you. She loves what you can do for her. You need me Mattie, we belong together.” I stroked your face with my thumb, your cheeks were more hollow than last time, probably due to Willow insisting on only eating vegan and glutton free just so she could look like a better #yogamom.

“Listen to me you sick fuck, my marriage isn’t a sham. I don’t know what medication you’re on but I never once thought about you since I met Willow and I’d like to keep it that way.” Your tone was different this time, serious. Determined.

“Mattie, don’t be dramatic–“ 

“I’m giving you five minutes to leave peacefully and never show your face in here again or I’m calling the cops.” You pushed me out the way like a rag doll and slammed the door in my face. I was waiting for you to come back in and yell April Fools even though it was July and pick me up and swing me around because it’s what I deserved. But you never came back, instead I heard your footsteps go downstairs and you play the act of happy father and husband again.

I could only laugh at how ridiculous the whole thing was. How ungrateful you were. I came across the country, worked for your imbecile of a wife and bratty child just to save you from your own mistakes and you tossed me aside like an old towel that was used up. Finished. You weren’t different. You were like everyone else. You’re no different from my mother who favored my sister because she was prettier. Like my dad who left us and never looked back because he never cared in the first place. Like my cat and that fucking British Shorthair that I know isn’t cuddling her when it’s cold at night because his coat is already thick and he gets hot too fast.

But this time I refused to be forgotten. I refused to let you, or anyone, live without remembering who I was.

I was 3 gulps into the Bacardi 151 kept in Willow’s closet. Who knew such a tiny woman could handle so much alcohol. I see why it was discontinued; I already felt a bit dizzy as I made my way downstairs. The happy family was sitting in the living, looking like a sample Walmart postcard.

“Looloo, where’s the dolls?” Emma said from the couch. She was a carbon copy of her parents, only worried about herself and no one else. 

“Looloo? What’s going on?” I knew Willow was more concerned that I was drinking her discontinued alcohol than the fact that I was drinking her discontinued alcohol.

“I’d like to make a toast.” I raised up the bottle. It was heavy and I was getting drunk already. “I always felt like I wasn’t enough for anyone. All I ever wanted was to be loved and I’ve come to terms with the fact that maybe that’s just not possible. But one thing I refuse to be is forgotten. So, this goes out to your beautifully flawed family. You might never know how much I contributed to your successful life. But I’ll make sure that you’ll never forget who I was.” 

I took one more gulp of alcohol before pouring the 75.5% over my head, coating my body in the substance as well as the floor below me. You got up to stop me, mumbling to yourself how ridiculous this was and you’re fed up. I threw the ultrasound at you along with a polaroid of us, 2014, freshman year, University of Pittsburg. I took the lighter from my bra, also from Willow’s closet. She was an alcoholic and a nicotine addict. You could’ve done so much better. 

Before you could grab me all I could see was orange. The burning sensation was excruciating, my skin felt like it was melting off like an ice cream cone on a hot day. Emma was crying and Willow was screaming about her dress, not even tending to her child. Somehow, even then, it was always about them. Only you were looking at me. You had the same look in your eyes. Like a lion looks at a gazelle right before it’s about to rip it apart. Determined. Passionate. Pitiful. 

That’s how I knew, even though I lost you, I knew you’d never forget me.