Say You'll Remember Me

by Abby Jimenez

I wasn’t an introvert so much as people just irritated me. I didn’t like dealing with humans I didn’t know. I didn’t like parties unless they were intimate and I knew everyone there. I hated mingling, I hated networking even more.

He was too attractive for me anyway. It was probably a red flag. I should just stick with medium-ugly men like I’m used to.

“Why did you want to go if you’re scared of heights?” I asked, looking down at her, amused. “I’m not scared of heights. I’m scared of falling.

I loved the smell of the ocean. I’d forgotten how much. The relentless sound of the waves crashing and the feel of the lumpy sand under a towel.

I’d never been to the beach at night. Too murdery.

This was what they meant when they talked about the one who got away. She’s the woman you never stop remembering, the one who haunts you. The one who stays at the front of your mind even when decades pass.

“What is up with this entire generation of aging adults who refuse to accept responsibility for themselves? Seriously, what is it? I could never imagine my kid not talking to me for a decade and me not going ‘Hey, maybe it’s me?’”

“I know. I’ve always loved you,” he said simply. “I think I couldn’t forget you because I remember you from a different lifetime. And I loved you then too.”

And I get to pay a million dollars for COBRA to keep my health benefits. I can’t even afford it.”

“But nothing. That’s not the solution. I will never be happier without you.”

He came in with this collie mix, I’ll never forget her name. Winnie.”