Forget Me Not

by Julie Soto

I tap my earpiece like a Bond villain and pivot like a dancer,

The faucet covers the sound of my sobbing.

I can't even begin to imagine what happened between these two

Because you can find a person’s ratio of light, water, and attention, and it still won’t be enough. For flowers, it’s enough.

“What the fuck kind of name is Ama?”

“It’s short for something, obviously.” And the fact that she won’t tell me is delicious. I try to keep the grin from twitching my lips, but I think I fail. “Amateur.”

I wonder if she’ll look up The Language of Flowers and figure out I just told her, You are immature and I resent you. Go away.

“Can you ask him if I can post it?” I’d rather eat glass. “Of course.”

I don’t know what feels worse. The idea that he moved on, or the hope that he hadn’t.

I’m addicted to my phone. One day we will have support groups for this—our backs curved like croissants, our thumbs twitching with the need to swipe, all blinded from the blue light.

But because my self-worth is now intrinsically tied to this picture, I’m thinking of deleting it, then myself.

It’s wrinkled, but it doesn’t smell like I just spent four hours building a deconstructed floral arch just to get rejected by Instagram and Ama Torres in under an hour.

“I won’t smile,” I say. “I wouldn’t dream of asking it,” Mar says with a fake grin.

“Maybe someone could talk me into a flower.” Her voice is low. Vowels round and slow. “You already are a flower.” I regret it the second it’s out of my mouth. It’s not smooth. It’s not sexy.

Her tongue flicks out, and she must know. Madison Bailey must have told her to do that.

“In mythology, Amaryllis fell in love with a—with a man who loved flowers…”

So this is where I start crying screaming throwing up

I think this is where I’ll die. I think I’ll just lie down and wait for death. He can use me to fertilize the flowers.

“What’s an amaryllis look like?” Hazel says, turning to where Elliot pointed out the calla lilies. “I don’t keep them in the shop anymore.”

I’m gonna fuck her. I’m gonna fuck her one day, and I’ll drive her just as crazy.

“Sorry. I’m…” I wave my hand, searching for which neurosis to blame this on.

“Whoa, you got a lotta lights on your dash!” Shut the fuck up, George. My eyes squeeze closed, hoping I can just laugh and say, Yeah! Crazy!

“The shop says there’s nothing they can do!” I squeak in the I’m only a girl! voice I use to get out of things.

But you need to call 9-1-1 and grab the EpiPen in my purse.”

Im actually dying GIVE ELLIOT A FUCKIN BREAK i-

I stare at this beautiful girl I’ve clearly killed and say, “I don’t know, but she’s passed out? She said she has an EpiPen?” “Does she have an allergy?” “I don’t know! I don’t fucking know her!” I start digging in her purse, victoriously grabbing a tube before I realize it’s a tampon. “What do I do with an EpiPen?”

“Did I just kill her with a peanut butter donut?”

“Sir, I’m sure she’s not dead, but she needs your help. Can you follow instructions?” I’m thinking of Mrs. Tarico in third grade, who told me I have a terrible time following instructions. “No. Probably not.”

Ama sucks in air like a Disney princess waking up from a curse. And then promptly turns over and vomits on my workbench.

She won’t look me in the eyes as the EMTs load her up on a gurney, and it’s probably because I just tried to kill her.

When the nurses ask me to fill out forms for her, I can’t explain that I only just started touching her tits and I’m not really her boyfriend, so I spend twenty minutes in her purse, looking for information.

I shove my hands back in my pockets as soon as possible—the hands that had only hours ago been rubbing her daughter’s nipples—and say, “Is she better?”

I’ve paralyzed her.

This man is such a fucking dumbass... Im clearly in love

“Elliot, would you like to join us for lunch?” Cynthia asks with the sparkle of grandchildren in her eye.

“I don’t give a fuck who it is. I want you to look debauched when I’m debauching you.”

“B-because I want to know you. I want to know what you like, what you hate—even if it’s me.” I start pressing a second finger inside slowly. “Fuck fuck fuck—I want to love what you love, even if it’s extinct.”

She pulls out her calendar. “Where’s the wedding?” “The Four Seasons.” “The hotel? Or Total Landscaping?”

“Get the fuck away from me,” he says, as politely as he possibly can.

And I know what you’re thinking: he is clearly angry with me if he has bought yellow Gatorade and expects me to say thank you. But alas, yellow Gatorade is my favorite.

When I got this truck in high school, I always hoped I’d get to have sex in it.

Go Elliot go!!!

Her thumb swirls over the head of my cock, but I can’t even enjoy it because there are seven lights on.

“Relax, and keep calling me Emma.”

“Elliot Bloom, if you sit still and forget about this, I promise to suck your soul out through your dick.” Her eyes are fierce, and her breath is coming quickly. “I…Ama, I can’t. I can’t!”

This is actually the funniest thing I've read in my entire life?

You may think everything ends one day, but you haven’t had ‘everything’ with me.”

So that’s how I’ll shuffle off this mortal coil.

“That was hot,” Hazel says. “You two should bang.”

“The proposal,”

I'm going to delete myself if he proposes

There’s a bubbling inside me. It’s so strong and addictive. I had a good childhood, so it’s not like I’ve never received an excellent present before. But it’s the surprise from someone who knows you on a level no one else will—someone who’s opened up your chest and fit themselves inside.

“What? No.”

My heart just shattered into a million pieces

It slices through me. As if everyone could see why it was a bad idea except for me.

“If I’m going to be the wedding planner today, I need the wedding planner Bluetooth.”

“How do I use this thing?”

elliot please baby not now

“That’s not how it works,” he says. “There is no falling out of love for people like you and me.”