Memory is a funny thing. And like with most fun activities, I don’t participate. I don’t have short-term memory, said a shrink once, and since life events aren’t studied, I forget everything. But that one book I read and really studied for that one exam in college in 2010 in a bar on the sea shore in Mar del Plata for days and days, I still remember. But do I remember conversations or feelings or events that happened with friends or family? Or stuff that I liked? And nevermind stuff the people around me liked. Forget it! No way.
So what does happen is that I know as facts things that I know must have happened. Either as told by someone else, or because… you know, it must have happened, but I do not remember being there. It’s the ing that’s missing, you know? For example, I know I went on a trip when I finished primary school, there are pictures of us on a bus and in Cordoba. But I have no idea what happened there. And since I haven’t spoken to those people again, no one has told me what happened, so I don’t know. It happened, but I don’t know what happened. So, as far as I’m concerned, I never went on that trip. And so on, and so on.
And like with most people in my life (except one person), I don’t remember the first time I saw her, or the first time we spoke, or how we got to know each other. Sure, we were schoolmates from the 4th year, up to our last (like 3 years), so we must have spoken at some point. Shared… I don't know, something: Homework? Tasks? Did we pair up in gym class? Were we ever together at gym class? Who knows; certainly not me. I don’t know if we ever met before 4th year, even though we went to the same school. Like I said, I just don’t remember. My memory is the worst. But, at the same time, she is the only thing I remember from those years. Well, her and him. Both of them. But this is not about him or about how fucked up I was during those years, and whether or not I was self inflicting conflict and pain in whatever way I could; this is about how I can’t remember how I met her. Because I feel like— or at least that’s how I remember it — I fell so hard for her. It’s not that big of a deal, I know, we were just teenagers. But people say, or novels do, or movies, or something, that the first love is the one you never forget — oh, I know, I read it in a Stephen King’s book, “Hearts in Atlantis” probably. Something along the lines of “the first love (or kiss) is the one all the others are compared to”—
It’s just like suddenly there she is, in my memories, sweet and pretty and… gods, I loved her. Well, I loved what I saw, of course, which I’m sure it wasn’t really her. She probably would not recognize herself if she saw through my memories. I don’t even think we would get along now, or if I had been different back then. Maybe, if I'd been a little more present…— Regardless, what she is to me is just a sweet girl, who smiled at me, and she was so soft to me… And everything else was so harsh.
But I do remember her smile, and her eyes looking at me. I remember them being tender. I like that memory. I wish I could draw it.
I also remember more clearly, one time when we met after everything had happened. It was at a friend’s birthday party. And it had been… maybe a year or two since the last time I saw them. And it was like a movie, or a silly little fanfic or something. She came into the room, and my breath stopped for a moment. She didn’t see me right away, and she went to greet everybody else, and I kept doing my thing, talking to whoever I was talking to, and pretended that everything was cool. I didn’t think we would talk or anything… I never was the person other people sought after, I was (and probably still am) easy to move on from. So I didn’t expect her to come to me, other than to say “hi, how are you”, and “bye bye”, you know, because it’s not like we ended things badly. I also didn’t expect her to stay as long as she did, she usually left parties early. But she stayed. And we drank together, and played games, and ate cake, and laughed.
You know that moment in every party where it dies down a bit? The slow-dance part of a party, where everyone looks for couches to sit on, and talk quietly, and maybe drink a little water instead of tequila or wine or beer? I’ve always been a fan of that moment, and I like to sit down anywhere and look at people, listen to the music. That’s what I did, and she came to sit by my side. Everybody knew a bit— if not more— of what had happened, and I know they stared at us because she had a reputation. Well, we both had a reputation. I was fragile, and she was a very hot babe who’d gotten me into the mess in the first place (although, of course, no one spoke of what had happened at all, so it was all very much hush hush, looky looky). I remember she was quiet, and soft just like I remembered her (and how I will always remember her I think). But I can’t remember if she looked at me or not… I think she did… I definitely would like to think she did. I asked how she really was. She relaxed, and said she was better. I remember I looked at her for a while. The side of her face, her smooth skin, and red plump lips, her black hair in a ponytail (was it really a ponytail?). Her slow breathing. She was so not okay. I didn’t think she was better either. So I asked her about him, and she… Her face fell a bit. I think now… maybe it was guilt? Back then I thought she was trying to sound nonchalant. She said she hadn’t spoken to him in a while. And I said “good”, because he was toxic. He was not good. Regardless of whether or not she was feeling guilty. Regardless of why she was so sweet to me. Regardless… he was bad news. I didn’t have much hope, I knew they would meet again. Because, I don’t think I did before, but I did notice at that moment that she was just as fucked up as me, and it was all an exercise in self punishment.
I remember, also, I wanted to hug her so bad. But I can’t remember if I did. I really want to say I did, because it's sweet, and it would make for a great last meeting. But I just don’t remember if I did. She did ask me about my girlfriend, and if she was ok, if we were ok. I said we were, that she was (and still is to this day) very sweet and strong and made me feel good about life, and I liked her very much. She nodded, “that’s nice” she said. I do think that’s when she looked at me and smiled. I think. I want to think so. I would absolutely love to remember. I don’t know if we talked about anything else. But we were sitting together there, quiet, and maybe the most relaxed we had ever been, for a long time. It’s a nice memory of her. I never heard from her again, nor have I looked her up again, and I never stopped thinking about her either. I really hope she’s happy. I wonder also if she ever thinks about me. I wonder if she cared about me, if I ever meant to her anything close to what she meant to me. I know not the same, of course not. I learned that quickly enough, but still… I would have liked to be her friend. I wasn’t friend material back then, but I cared about her… I did want to see her happy…
But I can’t remember how I was to her.
Was I nice? Was I boring? Was I mean? Was I helpful in any way? Did she enjoy spending time with me?
I do not know.
Μνάσεσθαί τινά φαμι καὶ ὔστερον ἀμμέων.
someone will remember us
I say
even in another time
-Sappho
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