Can't Remember to Forget You

With a satisfied sigh, I dropped the box of books I'd been carrying. The new volumes were a donation from loyal patrons of my bookstore, ones who had been coming here to read and peruse the shelves since my parents owned the store. The elderly couple hadn't been by quite as much in the past years and they blamed it on their getting old, but I knew that was only a sliver of the truth. Ever since my parents were killed years ago, business in the bookstore had gradually declined.

But I was determined not to let it perish without a fight. I would see to it that the business my parents had worked hard to grow would not wither and die.

I reached into the box and pulled out a book. "Candide," I said to myself, smiling as I slid the book onto the shelf. I was every bit the bookworm my parents had been, and I was not ashamed to admit that I'd read the book several times simply for leisure. It was actually a pretty funny book, not that anyone besides myself even cared.

I heard my name being called from the front of the store, so I temporarily decided to abandon the box of books. They would be safe while I assisted this customer. As I made my way to the front desk, the bell above the door dinged! and I looked over to see two men walk into the store. I eyed them warily. I normally wasn't one to judge based on appearances, but these two just looked like trouble.

"Oh, there you are, Wren," the old woman fretted as I approached her. I smiled, enjoying the fact that my customers felt comfortable enough to address me by my first name. "You wouldn't happen to have another copy of Othello, would you? My grandson needs a copy for school and it looks all of the copies at the library have been checked out."

"I might," I mused. "I'll go check in the backroom."

"Thank you, Wren," the old woman said. "You're a dear, just like your mother."

My smile wavered a bit at the mention of my mother, but I tried not to let it show. Even years after their deaths, the subject of my parents was still a tender one. I left the old woman and went to the back room to check for her book. I noticed that the two men from earlier had migrated to the back of the store where I kept the couches for customers who wanted to sit and read. They were both looking at the same book, and as I watched, the taller one smacked his friend upside the head. I narrowed my eyes.

I'll have to keep an eye on them.

I found another copy of Othello in a box I had in the backroom. I'd barely handed it to the sweet old woman when I heard a crash near the back of the store, following by the surprised yelps of several customers. I groaned. What now?

When I made it to the back of the store, I was less than surprised to find the two gentlemen from earlier staring at the upturned box of books with wide eyes. "Is there any particular reason you're making a mess of my bookstore?" I accused. They both looked up at me. "Some of those are very old, and you're just knocking them onto the floor!"

"Sorry 'bout that," the taller one apologized, rubbing his neck. His eyes met mine, and I saw that they were the color of emeralds. "My friend here is really clumsy."

"Oh, that's a load of bullshit, Zack," the other one retorted. "You shoved me and that's why I knocked the box over!"

I rubbed the bridge of my nose. "If you're not going to buy anything, would the two of you mind leaving?" I asked, and not nicely. "I'm already going to have to pick up this mess you made and I'd appreciate not having to clean up anymore."

"Yeah sure," the second man agreed. He turned and started to walk away, but stopped short when he noticed that his friend hadn't moved. "Uh, Zacky? She said she wants us to leave."

"Yeah, I know what she said, Johnny," Zack said to his companion. "Just give me a minute, okay?"

The man named Johnny turned to leave, and as he walked away, I heard him grumble something along the lines of, "...always chasing tail, jeez."

Once his friend had disappeared, the green-eyed man turned to me with a lopsided grin. He held out his hand. "I'm Zacky, just in case you missed that," he announced. His gaze flickered to his hand, which remained outstretched. "You're supposed to shake my hand, you know. It's polite." Glaring at him, I shook his hand. As I did, the medical bracelet on my arm caught the light from the outside and drew Zacky's attention. "Wren Olivia Winset," he read. "So your initials are W.O.W?"

"Yes," I responded curtly.

He cracked another smile. "So your initial spell 'wow'? Do people ever call you Wowzer? Ooh, or Wowza?"

"No they don't," I explained. "Just Wren."

"Well I'm gonna call you Wowza," he stated.

"Please don't," I groaned. "I prefer to be called Wren."

"You'll learn to love it," Zacky assured, waving his hand dismissively in my direction. No I wont, because I hopefully won't ever see you again! "So uh, Wren, are you single?" He met my gaze with twinkling eyes, and suddenly I understood his friend's grumbled statement.

"Yes I am, but I'm not interested in you," I shot back. His face fell. "Well you haven't exactly made a good impression, coming into my store and knocking things over."

"I really am sorry about that," he mumbled. "I'll help you pick them up if you want."

"I'd much rather you leave," I told him. He was getting on my nerves. "The store is going to close soon anyway."

Zacky sighed. "Alright," he relented. "But don't think this is the last you'll see of me." I couldn't help but roll my eyes. "See you later, Wowza."

"My name is Wren!" I called after him, but he was already gone. I huffed angrily. "Jackass."

. . .

"Hey Wren," the girl at Starbucks greeted with a smile. "What can I get for you today?"

"Just a tall Pike Roast with soy milk," I told her, digging in my bag for some change. Any other day I might've ordered something more flavorful, but with my stressful encounter at the bookstore and the long theater rehearsal that stretched ahead of me, I just wanted a bit of raw energy. I handed the girl my money, tossing the spare change into the tip jar, and walked over to the other side of the store.

I pulled out my phone. I had a few messages, one from my friend Claire wanting to know if I was free this evening and another from the director of the musical I was performing in reminding me of our rehearsal tonight.

"Wren?" I jumped slightly at the sound of my name being called. The girl behind the counter held up my drink. "A tall Pike Roast with soy milk?"

"Thanks," I said, taking it from her. I put a little sugar in my coffee and then hurried off to the performing arts center downtown.

I was one of the first people there, which was normal. It was no secret that I was devoted to my craft. "Hey Wren, how are you today?" my friend Tori asked. She was part of the stage crew here, and we'd been friends since I first stepped foot in the arts center when I was eighteen. "How's life? How's the bookstore?"

I shrugged. "Life is life," I said. "But something interesting did happen at the bookstore today." I told Tori about the two men who'd caused the havoc in my bookstore and she chuckled.

"Wren, I'm starting to think you're a little more blind than you let on," she stated. I raised an eyebrow in confusion. "Sweetheart, that man was trying to flirt with you."

"Oh, I knew that!" I huffed. "I just wasn't interested in flirting back." I tucked a strand of my long, red hair behind my ear, twisting on my feet as I did so.

"This isn't about Clark, is it?" Tori asked, obviously noticing my behavior. I nodded and she rolled her eyes. "Oh, come on! It's been three months. Forget about Clark already. Hit up this new guy from the bookstore. Because no offence Wren, you could use a little action between the sheets."

"Oh for God's sake," I groaned. "That is not why I turned this guy down. First of all, he didn't even ask me out. Second, after Clark and I split up, I decided that I should concentrate on the theater and getting to Broadway."

"That's a load of crap and you know it," Tori said. She grinned at me. "I'm gonna go finish setting up for rehearsal."

. . .

"Alright Wren and Tom, I'd like to run over the vocals for More Than Words' and 'Heaven' again," the director instructed. The director was a short, squat man in his fifties and much like myself, he'd inherited his job from a family member. "Don't bother with the choreography. It's a little rusty, but we'll deal with it later."

"Got it, boss," Tom replied, cracking a grin. It was his thousand-watt smile that had girls flocking to him. I'd even had a slight crush on him when I'd first joined the performing arts center. For that reason, it was only slightly disappointing when I found out that he was gay.

The introduction to 'More Than Words' began playing and I stepped to the center of the stage as I took a deep breath and prepared to sing.

"Saying I love you is not the words I want to hear from you," I sang. "It's not that I want you not to say, but if you only knew how easy it would be to show me how you feel. More than words is all you have to do to make it real. Then you wouldn't have to say that you love me 'Cause I'd already know."

"How I love the way you move, and the sparkle in your eyes." Tom's tenor voice reverberated out across the hall as he started to sing. He was absolutely perfect for this role. "There's a color deep inside them like blue suburban skies. I don't need to be the king of the world, as long as I'm the hero of this little girl. Heaven isn't too far away, closer to it every day. No matter what your friends say I know we're gonna find a way."

My turn once again, and I felt free as I let the words tumble out of my mouth. That was what I loved about singing. "More than words is all you have to do to make it real, then you wouldn't have to say--"

"Heaven isn't too far away, Heaven isn't too far away, Heaven isn't too far away--"

"'Cause I'd already know, saying how I love you."

"Wonderful job!" the director shouted, clapping his hands. "Next time we'll add the choreography and see how well that goes. Alright Ian, you're up. Let's hear 'Pour Some Sugar On Me'."

. . .

Hey girl, you up for a little outing tonight? My new friends from work invited us to go out to a club with them!
Received from: Claire at 8:17 p.m.

I grimaced a bit when I read the text message from my best friend. Claire was what you would call a free soul, and she tended to come up with ideas for group outings with new friends she met through work or our yoga class. Most of the time I'd cave and go out with them, but clubs weren't my forte. This was mostly because bars tended to have flashing or strobe lights and those types of light caused me to have seizures.

Does this one have strobe lights?
Sent to: Claire at 8:19 p.m.

Not that I know of! We'll probably leave around 10 if you wanna come
Received from: Claire at 8:20 p.m.

I texted Claire that I would go with them and shoved my phone into my pocket. I glanced down at my outfit. I was wearing a tshirt and a pair of jean shorts, which I thought was fine, but Claire would badger me to change. That gave me just enough time to take a shower and dry my hair.

. . .

It was exactly ten o'clock when I heard a knock on my door. I made sure that I'd unplugged the hairdryer before leaving the bathroom and going to answer the door. Standing in the hallway was Claire, and behind her stood a few women I didn't recognize. One was a brunette with shoulder-length hair and the other was blonde and had friendly hazel eyes.

"Hey Wren!" Claire greeted. She pulled me into a hug. "These are my friends from work," she added, gesturing to the two women standing behind her. "This is Val Sanders and Lacey Franklin. They're pretty regular customers."

"Well it was nice of you to invite me and Claire out," I said, smiling.

"It's because we get tired of sitting there bored while our husbands drink!" Val exclaimed, grinning. "We wanted to bring a few girlfriends along this time."

"Well I don't know if Claire told you, but I have epilepsy," I explained. "If this place has strobe lights or anything I'll have to leave or I might have a seizure."

"We already told the owner no flashing lights tonight," Val assured. I cocked an eyebrow at her. How on Earth had she managed to get such a favor out of the owner of the club? "My husband Matt is friends with the owner," she explained. "And the guys give him a lot of business, so he usually does what they ask if they ask nicely."

"Alright, well I say we get going then!" Claire shouted. She shook her hips. "I need some jiggle juice!"

. . .

"Alright guys, this is Claire and Wren," Val told the group of men sitting in the dark booth. "Claire works at that amazing restaurant on La Brea and Wren is her friend from college. What is it you do again, Wren?"

"I own a bookstore," I said. "And I sing and do theater. But that's more of a hobby than a job."

The tallest man studied her with bright crystal-blue eyes. "That's ironic, 'cause Zacky and Johnny got kicked out of a bookstore earlier today. Johnny said Zacky made him knock over a box of books and then the chick running the store got pissed and made them leave."

"Wait--" I started. That story sounded eerily familiar to what occurred in my store earlier. But I'd only gotten a single word out when I was interrupted by someone nearly shoving me to the floor. Thankfully the blue-eyed man named Jimmy saved me.

"Damn Zacky, you almost knocked this poor girl to the floor!" Val's husband Matt exclaimed. "You're lucky Jimmy caught her."

"I'm sorry 'bout that," an oddly familiar voice slurred. "My feet don't seem to want to listen to me at the moment." I turned around to see who had nearly shoved me over and found myself staring at one of the men from the bookstore, the one who'd unsuccessfully tried to flirt with me. His green eyes lit up when he recognized me. "Hey I know you!" he yelled. "You're the owner of that bookstore me and Short Shit were at earlier."

"Talk about a small world," Matt chuckled. He pulled Zacky down next to him in the booth. "Now go on, apologize to Wren for almost knocking her onto the fucking floor."

"Sorry," Zacky hiccupped.

"It's...okay," I responded. I turned to Claire. "Hey, I need a beer. You wanna come to the bar with me?"

"I do!" a male voice shouted. I turned back around to see Zacky clambering out of the booth.

"No--" I started, but he was already flanking me, pulling me by the upper arm through the crowded club to the bar. When we reached the counter, I yanked my arm from his grip, hissing, "I would appreciate it if you didn't manhandle me."

"Sorry," he sighed. "Again. I've had a little too much to drink."

"Why is it you're obviously wasted and none of the others are?" I asked. I really did find it a little odd that out of the group of men, Zacky was the one who was stumbling, the one whose words were slurred. He'd obviously had more to drink than any of his friends, and there had to be a reason.

"I'm just going through some shit," he mumbled. He wrung his hands together and I barely noticed the ghost of a ring on his left ring finger. Was this man married?And if he was, why wasn't he wearing his wedding band? "I actually just got divorced," he explained. "I was with her for a good while and I loved her, but once we got married, shit just started falling apart and I have no idea why. We eventually decided it just wasn't worth it and called it quits. We actually just signed the papers two weeks ago."

I suddenly saw a different side of this man. At first, I'd only thought of him as a minor, passing annoyance, but now he was human. He had emotions and right now, they were clearly low. "Is that why you tried to flirt with me earlier?" I asked.

He nodded. "As soon as Gena told me she wanted a divorce, I started turning to other women to kinda ease my pain. But I figured out pretty fast that sleeping around is more of a quick fix, like how I used to be when I was younger. But now I'm older and I got kinda attached to the idea of settling down with just one girl and maybe starting a family or some shit. Hell, I dunno. But sometimes I just need to flirt, just to prove I've still got something." He paused and shot a lopsided grin in my direction. "But you shot me down hard, so maybe I don't still have the shit."

"You destroyed my bookstore!" I yelled, laughing. "Those were really old books you and your friend knocked all over the floor."

"Johnny's really sorry about that, by the way." Zacky smirked. "He promised not to do it ever again. And you have our permission to hit him if he does."

"I'll remember that," I chuckled. "Maybe I should put a sign up in my window: 'Johnny, you will be beaten with a book if you break anything else'."

"You know, you're pretty cool, Wowza," Zacky stated after his laughter had died down. "I'm actually glad you didn't sleep with me, cause then I would've had to avoid you tonight."

"Thanks?" I said.

The two of us slipped into a comfortable silence, broken only by my short conversation with the bartender. I'd barely popped the top off my beer when Zacky spoke up again.

"So maybe you'd like to get some coffee with me sometime?" he asked, swirling his own beer. I sat my bottle down on the counter. Things had been going smoothly for a while, and now we'd hit another bump. "I mean, we seem to get along pretty well and--"

"I'm just not really looking for anything right now," I interrupted. "I just went through a pretty rough breakup myself, and I've decided that I'd rather concentrate on the bookstore and my theater group. It's nothing against you really, because you actually seem quite nice. I just...I'm really not looking to start anything new. I'm sorry."

Zacky looked down at the counter. He was obviously disappointed that I'd turned him down for a second time in a single day, but I wasn't going to alter my decisions just to spare his feelings, no matter how sad he happened to be. "I understand," he mumbled. "But maybe we can eventually be friends, yeah?"

"We'll see," I answered. I honestly doubted that Zacky would only want friendship, but maybe if I rebuffed him enough times, he'd understand. And what could it possibly hurt to be friends with him? I was in no way obligated to date him just because we talked.

"I'll get your number from Claire, if that's alright," Zacky announced. He slid his empty bottle forward and let out a loud belch. Lovely. I produced my phone from my pocket and showed it to him, wordlessly asking why he didn't just get it now, but he shook his head. "Brian took my phone away," he explained. "He didn't want me to text or call Gena while I've been drinking. He'll give it back tomorrow, though."

"Alright," I said. I got to my feet and smoothed out my shirt. "I'm gonna go find Claire and tell her I'm ready to leave. Do you need any help getting back to the booth?"

Zacky cracked a grin. "That would be fabulous," he stated. "I'm pretty wobbly."

I wrapped my arm around his wide shoulders and helped him to his feet. It took a bit of effort because he was heavier than he looked. We slowly made our way back over to the booth, and I quickly handed him off to Matt. "I believe this belongs to you," I said, stepping back. "He's heavier than he looks, just so you know."

"Yeah, Zacky-kins is putting on some chub," Jimmy laughed, reaching over to slap his friend's stomach. "Pretty soon he won't even be able to find his own dick."

"Fuck you, Jim," Zacky said, raising his left middle finger into the air.

"Thanks for returning him to us in one piece," Matt said. "You leaving?"

"Yeah, clubs aren't really my scene," I told him. I looked around for Claire, but couldn't find her. "Would you tell Claire that I went home? I don't feel like going to find her, and if I just leave, she'll probably flip shit."

"Will do," Matt agreed, tipping his beer bottle at me. "It was nice meeting you, Wren. You guys will have to hang out with us more often."

"Yeah," I said. I waved at the group of men one last time before pushing through the crowd to the front door. The air outside was by no means cold, but compared to the stuffiness inside the club, it felt wonderful. I was just glad I'd brought a little extra money for a cab, otherwise I would be stuck at the booth with Matt, Jimmy, and Zacky while I waited on the others to finish whatever they were doing. But I suppose I had fun while I was there, and I might've possibly made a few new friends. And I had a feeling that the acquaintanceship I now had with Zacky wouldn't remain an acquaintanceship, no matter what I might want.

Notes