Say You'll Remember Me

by Abby Jimenez

“How was your flight?” she whispered, not letting me go. Worth it, I thought.

I liked how reflective he was. How he didn’t speak until he had something thoughtful to say. He was observant. But mostly I liked that he felt turned toward me. Like I was the only thing interesting in this place full of interesting landmarks and people and things. He never once pulled out his phone for anything other than taking pictures. I told him I loved shells and he spent our walk along the water looking for ocean jewels to hand me like it was his new job. I preferred his ice cream more than mine and he switched with me, he wouldn’t take no for an answer. When it got windy on the beach, he wrapped me in his towel. I felt courted.

“Yeah. I want someone who knows everything there is to know about me, and I want to know everything about them. I want to be able to say one out-of-context comment to someone and they get what it means and they laugh and it’s just some stupid joke from like eleven years ago that means nothing to anyone else.”

The best moments don’t have to be big to be forever. My chest got a little tight. This was the guy. This was who I was supposed to be with. I was so sure about it suddenly. All my best days would be like this. The two of us together. But most of our days would be spent apart.

And my light was two thousand miles away. I could still feel her from here, but it wasn’t enough. So I worked harder, picked up more shifts. And I was already getting tired. I knew this pace wasn’t sustainable. I also knew I had to keep it up because not seeing her was not an option.

Do you want to have a garden? To go with our menagerie of rescue animals?” “Sure.” “Do you know how to garden?” she asked. “Not really,” I said, walking behind her. “But I will do whatever you need me to.” “You’ll till my fields?” “I’ll plow whatever you want, as vigorously and as often as you’d like.”

Samantha was my one. I knew it by how painful it was to see her cry. I knew it by how I was willing to work harder for her than I’d ever worked for anything or anyone including myself. Loving her gave me purpose. It made me feel like I knew what my life was supposed to be about. I felt focused and calm and like a frantic search I hadn’t known I was on was over. This was what I was here to do, this was who I was here to be with, and now my job was to get here and take care of her.

“But… but you’ve always looked at me like that,” I said. “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.”