Today had been just like any other day for Claire with coffee on main street, another successful art class, and now she planned to go home work on her paintings and sip red wine. Claire felt she was happy, but she often sensed something was missing. Still decently young, she fell into a routine that was becoming mundane. When will it all change? she thought.
Dinner was always simple, protein and vegetables. She would switch between pork and chicken, never beef. Claire had a tendency to be indecisive but she would only buy what she would eat that night. Her mother always told her never to waste any food. As Claire sampled Publix‘s take on her favorite dish, she was interrupted by a woman calling her name.
“Claire, is that you?” the lady said.
“Yes?” she said back, trying to recognize the little lady who stood before her, dressed from head to toe in baby pink.
“It’s so good to see you honey, how are you holding up these days?” the little pink lady said.
“I’m doing just fine– thank you for asking.” Claire said with a puzzled look on her face.
The lady continued, “ Oh, well that is good, I’ll let you get back to shopping. When you talk to Aaron please send him my love and gratitude,” and she scooted off.
Claire was beyond confused. At first she assumed it was a case of mistaken identity. Who’s Aaron she thought. The name sounded vaguely familiar. She finished collecting ingredients for her dinner and headed home.
Claire parked her car and slowly made her way to her front door when she noticed it. It was a small white cardboard box, unmarked.
“What is this?” she quietly said, arguing with the thought whether this package would blow her into pieces or not. The box looked as if it traveled half way around the globe. She guessed that no one would have a reason to send her a bomb and brought it inside. Still skeptical of its contents, she decided to make her dinner before opening it. Aromas of garlic and herb chicken and the sweet smell of sautéed vegetables overflowed her tiny one bedroom home. As she reached for her empty wine glass, the plain package caught her eye.
“I just don’t know why anyone would send me a blank box?“ she said, only possibly talking to her cat.
As she sat down to eat her dinner, she decided to open the mystery package. Shrouded in bubble wrap was a picture in a frame. Claire didn’t recognize the picture. It portrayed a small park covered with the warm colors of red, orange, and brown. A silhouette of a family shared a hug in its background. Claire appreciated art but this picture was particularly moving. She decided it must have come from a student and hung it up above her nightstand. After her dinner she sat down to finish her newest painting. The rest of her week went on as it always did. Teaching, painting, sipping red wine.
When the weekend came Claire spent it at her parents’. It was their thing. Claire and her mother would always go look around local garage sales and flea markets and then come home for a grilled dinner, her father‘s specialty. Claire was sitting down to eat when she noticed something.
It was the same picture she was mysteriously sent, only it was painted from another angle.
“Mom, did you and dad send me a package with a painting in it?” Claire questioned.
“No, honey, it wasn’t us.” her mother said, looking off into space. Her father coughed nervously, muttering about dry chicken to himself.
“ Oh, ok,” she replied unconvinced. Claire dropped the subject, but she knew her parents were worried about it. This occurred often over the past year. Usually when she inquired about her past.
The next day, a cool breeze spilled into the park as Claire watched the rusted, brownish-red leaves descend daintily onto the ground. Beautiful, she thought, as she took a mental picture of the mesmerizing autumn vista for later inspiration. She loved painting fall landscapes. As she finished her coffee, something clicked. She was staring at what looked like the picture someone had sent her. It had the same benches, children’s playground, and captivating fountain. She slowly set her cup down and stared aimlessly into the scenery. Claire wanted to understand the connection but couldn’t remember much of her past. She recently turned thirty and figured her memory loss was due to growing older. This scene still triggered something in her brain. The pink lady in the store echoed inside her head “How have you been holding up these days?”. Something had happened. “Who is Aaron?” she asked aloud, lost in thought.
Claire strolled home stumped. Upon arrival, she immediately went to the picture and took it out of the frame. On the back it read, March 8, 2004, Claire, Aaron, and Emma. Claire froze and spoke softly.
“Now, who the hell is Emma? Did I paint this?” Her cat meowed back quizzically.
As she went to place the painting down, she noticed something else. It was a newspaper article hidden in the back of the canvas. She slowly opened the aged folded paper slowly. Deadly car crash, killing child, mother seriously injured, the title read. Emma, 2, was killed in a car crash last night by a drunk driver. Her mother Claire, 29, is in a coma at St. Marks Hospital.
Her heart skipped a beat as tears welled up in her eyes. How is this even possible? she thought to herself. Is this really me they are talking about? Claire couldn’t fathom forgetting a child, let alone losing one. So many thoughts raced though her head at once. Claire couldn’t contain herself anymore and fell to the floor sobbing. She didn’t want to believe, but she could feel the raised skin beneath her long locks. A massive scare circled the back of her head. That night a glass of wine wasn‘t enough. She had the bottle.
Claire woke up the next morning with a massive head ache. She remembered having a terrible dream. As she walked into her kitchen, she noticed the newspaper lying on the floor next to an empty bottle of Merlot. She frantically got ready and stormed out the door and off to her parents’. No more secrets, she thought. Claire wanted to know the truth, she had to know. Maybe they would know who Emma and Aaron were. Or even why she couldn’t remember the year passed.
Claire bolted to the door, and hammered until her mother answered. Tears rolled down her face, streaking mascara across her cheeks.
“Claire, what‘s going on?” her mom said.
“NO MORE PLAYING DUMB! DID SOMETHING HAPPEN TO ME?” she was crying uncontrollably.
“Honey, I”, her mother stammered, “I’m so sorry”
“How could you keep something like this from me? Why can’t I remember anything?” Claire went from crying to seething with anger.
“I wanted to tell you I did, but the doctors told me to wait,” her mother explained.
“It was too hard to say anything when you didn’t remember.” Claire stared a hole through her mother.
“But how did this happened?”
Her mother reminded her about the car accident over a year ago now. She explained that the doctors told Claire that Emma didn’t make it and she fell into a coma for about a month. When she awoke, Claire had no memory of the accident, who Aaron was, or Emma. The doctors were stern about mentioning it right away. They feared she may go into shock and comatose again. With the memory lost, her mother swept it under the rug. She refused to see her daughter hurt.
Claire felt hollow. Everything she had done was irrelevant. It wasn’t her real life. Before she left, her mother gave her the address of her daughter’s grave. Claire was headed there hoping to say her goodbyes. On her way, Claire remembered she didn’t inquire about Aaron. That could wait.
As Claire pulled up to the cemetery her heart attempted to escape her chest. Although she felt as if she was going to pass out, she had to see her daughters grave. All she wanted was closure. She spent half an hour sulking through the cemetery, looking for her grave stone. Then she saw him. There in military blues, a handsome man was kneeling down holding his face in his hand. In the other, a bouquet of flowers and a letter. As Claire approached, she realized he was at a grave that read, Emma Grace, a beautiful girl, and a wonderful daughter. Taken from this world to early. She walked towards him slowly wondering why he would be at her daughter’s grave. He turned to look at her, face glistening with wiped tears.
“Claire honey, you came” he said in a sweet voice. His gorgeous green eyes immediately comforted her when she looked into them.
“Honey? Wait, you know my name?” she said back.
“Oh yes, I know a lot about you,” he said as he smiled.
Claire didn’t move. She stared at his stunning face for what seemed to be an eternity. He gave her a folded note. She took it and opened it. He reached for her shoulders and held them as she read the note, like he was waiting for her to faint.
Claire,
I know this is very hard to understand right now, your mother told me what happened. I wanted to write so bad, but I didn’t want you to be hurting. I promise I will explain everything to you soon. There is an address on the back of this note, meet me there on October 19th I cant wait to see you, I miss you so much honey, I know its not easy now but I promise as soon as I can make it home I will be there and we can heal together I love you and I’ll see you soon.
Love Aaron.
P.S. your mother told me not to send the picture to you, but I couldn’t help it, I just hope that it might help bring back some memories, and a smile to your beautiful face. Just know that I love you and everything matters when I’m with you and you’re my everything.
As she read, a tear rolled down Claire’s face. She looked up at Aaron smiling with the same smile he fell in love with. He had been waiting for this for a long time now. He knew that after reading those words, she would remember.
“I love you and I have missed you so much, can we go home now?” Claire finally said.
As he laid the flowers on their daughter’s grave, Claire kissed her hand and placed it on the cold granite. Aaron took her hand and they began to walk home.
by Chelsea Beasley