--The Art of Forgetting–- Update 10

Since the funeral I haven’t been taking care of myself like I had promised Nate. He had been finally enrolled in summer school, and so didn’t see me until seven because he had to work as well at a garage after school. When he would come home he would see himself to his room and he would spend time doing his homework. After his homework he would come up into my room and we would talk about each other’s day for an hour, until he got tired and went to bed.

While he was in school or at work I was locked away in my room, crying for Kale. Life has been so colourless, and depressing. I would sit there in my room staring at the picture of us in Quebec during Spring Break. I would sit there and cry, thinking about how many good times we had. How many times he kissed me. How many times he put his arms around me and caught me off guard and told me I’m beautiful. I miss moments like those, I live for moments like those. I’m like a rock star without any fans or music, I’m soulless.

My family is worried about me; their heart breaks a little everyday when seeing me in this condition. My mom comes into my room every afternoon with a bowl of tomato soup. She would leave it on my desk with a glass of orange juice and leave silently. I would just sit there and stare at it, and when my stomach would growl my soup would be cold, so I would just settle for the juice. When my mom would come back she would just sigh, and take the empty glass and cold tomato soup out. My dad on the other hand would bring in DVD’s and he would set them on my bedside table. He would try to start up a conversation, but I only answered in one word sentences. Right now there is a stack of fifteen some DVDs sitting on my beside table collecting dust.

“Megan, Mrs. Nicholson is here,” my mom called from the bottom of the stairs. I wiped the tears out of my eyes, and threw on one of Kale’s sweaters.

I reached the bottom of the stairs and Mrs. Nicholson was standing beside a chest. On top of the chest was Kale’s named carved into it. She bent down beside it and weakly smiled, “This was his chest full of his things. I would go through it, but I don’t he would want me to. So I decided to bring it to you, because I knew how close you two were, and he always trusted you. So why don’t you keep it Megan, and go through it if you like.”

“I couldn’t,” I crouched down beside her and leaned my head against her shoulder.

“I want you to have it; I really have no use for it. I already have his baby pictures and everything a mother needs. “

“Are you sure?” I choked on the words, and reached out for the chest. The wood was smooth beneath my fingers. Just by touching the chest it brought back so many memories. I stood up and looked at her one more time, “I really couldn’t.”

“I’m positive Megan. Please keep it,” she put her hands on my shoulders and then leaned forward and hugged me. I put my arms around her, and hugged her back. “I must be going, Rick and I are looking for houses in Alberta, and we really don’t have anything left here.”

“You guys just can’t do to him!” I screamed. She turned around and stopped in her tracks. Her face was filled with sorrow and loss, and it looked as if she just aged. “You can’t...”

“Megan he isn’t here anymore...he would probably w—“

“No you don’t know what he wants! No one knows what he wants! Ever since the funeral everyone says ‘what he wants!’ well you know what I think? You’re not him! You don’t know what he wants! So you know what? If you want to leave this place he calls home, leave everything that this place has to offer then you can get out of town and live your damn happy life without him!” I ran up the stairs with tears in my eyes. I pushed open my door and jumped to my bed, and bawled my eyes out. “They don’t know what you want!” I cried, “They don’t know anything about you!”

A couple of hours later my mom and dad dropped off the chest, and walked out of my room without saying a word. When the closed the door softly behind them I unplugged my earphones, and shambled across the room. I knelt beside the chest, and let my fingers run across it. This was his chest. This was really all his. All of his memories are filled within this chest.

“You can do this Megan,” I took a deep breath and unlatched the lock. Slowly I opened the chest and let my breath out. My eyes grew huge to see pictures of us, the presents I got him when we first met, trophies, old clothes, scrapbooks, graded papers, notebooks filled with writing, and the stuffed bear I won at the carnival two years ago.

“Oh come on Kale we have to go! It’s going to be so much fun! Addison isn’t going to be here this weekend so can’t we go? Please.” I begged. He looked at me and then a smile spread across his face.

“Fine...what t—“

“Yes!” I hugged him, “I am so going to kick your ass at those games!”

“You wish young grasshopper!” he gave me a little push, “so what time should we go?”

“Seven.”

“It’s a date!”

We walked around the park ground for about an hour eating popcorn and cotton candy, getting our stomachs filled with junk. We rode on a couple of roller coasters and water rides, but I was anticipating for the carnival games to begin.

“Look over there Megan,” Kale pointed out the hammer game, “Do you want to play that? You know I’ll kick your ass.”

“That’s not fair!” I punched him in the arm, “how about that game over there,” It was one of those bottle games. You know where you have three balls and you throw it at the milk bottles, and if you knock them all down you get a prize?

“Why not?” he stuffed the rest of his cotton candy in his mouth and then pulled me to the game.

“Do you want to go first?”

“Sure that way you can be amazed by my manliness skills,” he flexed his arms.

“What skills,” I laughed.

“Oh shut up Megan,” he turned to the person who worked the booth, “Here is two bucks, and can I have my balls?” The guy handed over three balls, and Kale started throwing them. He missed the first two times, and then the third time he managed to knock them all down except for one. They guy handed him a tiny fish.

“Oh yeah you definitely have skills,” I laughed, “let me have a shot.” The guy handed me my three balls. I threw the first one and missed. The second time I threw it I knocked them all down. I looked over at Kale and his jaw just dropped. They guy handed me the teddy bear. “Look who has skills now!”

“Fuck You.”

After playing a couple of more games we sat on the curb waiting for his mom to pick us up. The wind was gently blowing, and people were driving up and down the street. There were drunks across the street yelling at one another. Kale and I tried not to make eye contact.

“I think that one is going to throw a bottle at him,” Kale laughed.

“Nah I think they are going to get in a fist fight,” I predicted. We sat there silently watching the drunks fight over someone named “Darlene.”Soon enough they broke into an uncoordinated fist fight. They kept falling on to one another, and kept missing their swings. When the one with a beard finally nailed the other on the jaw Kale’s mom pulled up in front of us and we missed the rest of the action.

I put the teddy bear which I won between Kale and me in the back seat. Kale’s mom greeted me and asked us how the carnival was. We answered in short sentences and then we returned into a quiet atmosphere. Kale’s mom pulled into my driveway; I waved good-bye to Kale and his mom and hopped out of the car leaving the teddy bear behind. When I went inside I realized I had left it and thought Kale would give it to me the next day, but as days passed the teddy bear never came back and belonged to Kale.

Tears caressed my cheek as they softly fell on to the ground. I pulled out all the scrapbooks Addison, Kale and I had made. I leaned against the chest and flipped through the pages. Each page brought back a memory. I looked up at my ceiling and watched the memory play. Every time I flipped to a new page a new memory would just play on my ceiling.