Forget Me Not

Juniper never thought she’d see Robin’s face again. Never thought she’d look into those deep blue eyes that have just the right amount of green in them to mimic the globe, a miniature planet Earth spinning in front of her. Never thought she’d hear that voice, like the first notes of a song you’ve heard a million times but can never remember the name of. Never thought she’d feel her heart somersault inside her chest, stumbling over the dismount like it did when she was fifteen. 

But here she is, waiting at the bus stop on the street where they both grew up and there is Robin, her fingers tracing down the timetable and discovering that the bus was supposed to arrive ten minutes ago. 

“Hi.” Juniper says nervously, the word bouncing off her tongue into the crisp autumn air. 

Robin doesn’t move. She doesn’t turn around. She doesn’t see to have heard a sound, trapped in her own little world, one which Juniper is left out of. 

Five years ago this wouldn’t have been unusual. Juniper was the quiet kid sat at the back of the classroom more absorbed in her book than the lesson occurring in front of her whilst Robin was sat staring out of the window, a part of her wishing she was anywhere else and a part of her knowing that she’d never quite reach the same status as she had in that moment, the reigning prom queen, girlfriend to the star of the football team and just about getting good enough grades to go to university. They were the sun and the moon, never daring to come into each other’s orbits.

Until they did. Until that one fateful day when the two collided, creating a celestial explosion that scattered a multitude of brand new stars across the sky. 

It had been a summer’s night, late in August when it’s light almost until midnight and everything seems to be at peace. But neither Juniper, who’d just been kicked out of home for coming out as a lesbian, or Robin who had kicked herself out to avoid the same pain, felt at peace. They felt full of anger and confusion, two storms raging towards each other on a cloudless night. And it was only when they found each other, at the water’s edge, that they remembered how to breathe again. 

After that they’d spent the remaining fortnight of summer not quite finding their once upon a time, never discovering the words that would start their fairytale. Juniper wanted to, a kiss lingering on her lips waiting to be given away but she was a nobody, a shadow lurking in the school corridors whilst Robin was the light capturing everyone’s attention. She was never brave enough to take that risk, terrified of facing another rejection, afraid of being crushed by the first girl she’d ever had a crush on. Robin didn’t know what she wanted but she’d never seen herself as a princess and she didn’t believe in happily ever afters. 

“Robin” Juniper dares herself to say, less fearful now of rejection than she had been four years ago. “Is that you?”

This time Robin turns around, unable to ignore the voice any longer. “Yeah, that’s my name.” 

She’s just as pretty as Juniper remembers, every feature looking as if it’s been painted on by Van Gogh or Picasso, vivid lines of colour that belong nowhere else but on the canvas of Robin’s skin. Blonde waves float down to her shoulders setting everything in proportion and for many years, Juniper dreamt of running her hands through the strands, brushing them out of those perfect eyes, knowing that it was a foolish fantasy but never being able to let the thought go. 

“Am I supposed to know you?” Robin’s expression is a blank page void of the love story Juniper has longed to read there.

“I am, uh, Juniper.” She stutters clumsily, “Juniper Green. We were in the same maths class. With Mr Blackwell.” And we shared the summer of 2016 with each other. She adds silently inside her head. 

“Yeah I remember him. But I don’t remember you.”

Robin’s words cut through Juniper’s skin leaving a scar she’s scared will never heal. How can Robin not remember her? How can she not remember everything they shared with each other, secrets they’d never told another soul, promises they’d only told themselves. 

And the same words burn in Robin’s head, the words she’s been forced to say over and over again ever since the accident, ever since everything split apart, her mind bursting from the seams, names and dates and faces slipping away.

“I think I’d remember this face.” Robin says her gaze locking with Juniper’s. In Juniper’s eyes, Robin too sees the world but not as it is, not a perfect mixture of blue and green, but the world as it should be, full of a million colours all blurred together into one. She sees the works of art that make up Juniper’s face, her lips an oil painting, her eyebrows a pencil sketch, her cheeks made pink with watercolour, but she doesn’t recognise any of it. 

Juniper pauses, unsure of what to do next, the panic rising in her chest causing old butterflies to reawaken. She wants to reach out, to take Robin’s hand and hold it in hers in the way that she was never brave enough to do that summer. She wants it to rain so that they can dance in the middle of the street without anyone watching. She wants to get on the bus and ride it all the way back to Robin’s home even if it’s in the opposite direction to hers. She wants to find the words they could never find before. 

But the girl in front of her is a stranger. 

“Tell me about us.” Robin asks, desperate to understand why she is so drawn to the girl in front of her. 

Juniper is about to. She opens her mouth and the memories of that summer teeter on the tip of her tongue. And then she realises that she had a chance to start again, to be the girl she is now not the nobody she was back then. 

“No.” She begins and Robin’s face drops, “The past doesn’t matter. I only care about the future.” 

In the future, Juniper can be a princess or she can be the prince, she can fall in love with the prom queen and she can write her own happily ever after at the bottom of the final page of her own book. She doesn’t have to be the girl with no friends, the girl who cries in corner of the playground at lunch because she’s too afraid to hide in the toilets, the girl who at the age of sixteen found herself without a home. She doesn’t need the past anymore when the future is on her doorstep.

“And am I in this future?” Robin asks with a flirtatious smile, her hand reaching out towards Juniper. 

Juniper ignores the hand, darting around the side of the bus step just as the number 55 pulls up. When she returns she’s cradling a small flower in her hand, bright blue petals sat upon her palm. 

“It’s a forget me not.” She says handing it to Robin in the way that most people would hand over a phone number, “So you don’t forget me again.”

Robin laughs, the sound like a summer’s breeze passing through a wind chime, twinkling and light. She hesitates for a moment, her gaze flitting towards the bus and then back to Juniper again. “I don’t want to forget you Juniper Green.” 

The words don’t belong in this reality, they belong in a fantasy, spoken in the final scene of a rom-com just before the credits roll. Juniper smiles, unable to stop the grin from spreading across her cheeks. Juniper and Robin lock eyes and the ending is decided for them. 

They stand there and watch as the bus drives away. The first drops of rain begin to fall. Slowly at first like footsteps creeping over creaking floorboards and then, without warning, they become a dance pittering and pattering across the pavement. Juniper offers her hand to Robin who takes it graciously and they begin to echo the pattern of the raindrops, waltzing by the bus stop to a tun only the two of them can hear. 

When they stop both their hearts are beating fast, cheeks blushed pink and hair soaking wet. “Let me get you a drink.” Juniper says turning towards the coffee shop on the other side of the street. Robin smiles, letting her go. 

A moment later, Juniper returns to cups of steaming hot chocolate in her hands, those little pink and white marshmallows perched on top. “Here you go.” 

Robin turns around and her eyes are vacant, empty of the magic that had filled them minutes beforehand. 

“Who are you?” She says her voice straight and steady, devoid of any emotion. 

Juniper holds back the urge to cry, “Nobody.” 

As she turns to go, Juniper takes one last look over her shoulder at Robin, staring as the forget me not slips out of her hand and falls gracefully to the ground.