Page 3 of Forgettable in Every Way

“It’s different from New York, is it not?”

“Very. Anyway, I really should be going.” I tugged harder on Winston’s leash, and he finally trotted over to me.

“I should get home too. Penelope,” he said her name uneasily, “will be back with our son, Jack, soon.”

I pressed my lips together, trying not to show any emotion. It shouldn’t hurt that he had a child with Penelope. Or that he said “home” like they now lived in Aspen Lake. Why should I care? But care I did. “Okay.” I waved and walked off, my heart beating erratically, so much so I could hardly catch my breath.

“Maybe we can grab a cup of coffee later and catch up. This time I’ll bring my wallet,” he called out with a playful air.

I thought back to our first meeting, when he’d gotten up to the counter to pay for his straight black large coffee and had forgotten his wallet. I’d watched him as he checked every pocket three times over, searching for it to no avail, while he’d profusely apologized to the snippy cashier. Something came over me and I walked over to the register and handed the cashier a ten-dollar bill. I wasn’t usually so bold, but there was just something about Simon. I’d never forgotten his grateful smile or how he’d sat at my table, where we’d talked for hours about our favorite books and how lovely New York is in the fall. He was an actor trying to break into the Broadway scene. I was a year away from graduating with a degree in computer science from a small private college just outside the city. I thought it was the start of something beautiful. And it was ... until ... at that same coffeehouse nine months later, Penelope walked through the doors and Simon forgot about me.

“No, thank you.” I walked off. I didn’t even bother turning around. I had no desire to learn how Penelope was living out my dream. Besides, the man hadn’t even remembered my name.

I might be forgettable, but I had an excellent memory. And I knew one thing for sure—I would never let Simon Harrison into my life again.

Simon

“BLOODY HELL, YOU ARE AN arse,” Simon berated himself out loud as he rummaged through some old boxes he’d placed in one of the spare rooms of the lake house he was renting. “How could you forget her name?” It wasn’t that he had forgotten it. He just wasn’t expecting to see her, especially in Aspen Lake of all places. Although, if he was being honest with himself, he hadn’t thought about the woman who’d made his first year in the States easier and more enjoyable than he’d expected for quite some time.

Simon had this persistent thought in the back of his mind about a photo album she’d given him the last time he’d seen her. Sadly, he’d hardly flipped through it. He wasn’t even sure if he’d properly thanked Jules for it. That time was such a blur to him. It was right when Penelope had entered his life and taken it over.

As he searched through the musty old boxes he’d been lugging around for the past several years, forgotten memories of Jules played in his mind. He smiled, thinking about what a quiet adventurer she was. She wanted to show him all the sights, and so she had. But she did it with little fanfare and always lived in the moment. However, she would snap a few pictures here and there with a small digital camera to remember their outings together. It didn’t matter if they were at the top of the Empire State Building or just eating Chinese food in Chinatown, she documented their excursions with that little camera. He loved that she never posted them on social media. She didn’t need, or even want, that kind of attention. It was one of the many reasons he liked her so much.

Not that he was good at showing it. He wasn’t even sure he ever said goodbye to her or told her how much he appreciated all her help with going over lines and songs for auditions. Or that she learned how to make proper fish and chips better than his mum’s. Although he would never tell his mum that.

As he rifled through the boxes, old paper smells and dust assaulted his nose. The more he searched, the more frustrated he became that he couldn’t find what he was looking for.

“Darling, we’re here,” Penelope called out.

Simon sighed and stretched his back. He really wished his ex-wife would quit using that term of endearment. While she was at it, she should knock. He’d only given her a key to his place in case of an emergency.

“Daddy!” Jack squealed as he ran through the house to find Simon.

Simon walked out into the hall, eager to see his son, who had been with Penelope for the weekend. Being separated from his son was the worst part of the divorce. Simon knelt on the creaky, wood floors and opened his arms. Jack zoomed straight into them, hugging his father’s neck tightly. “Daddy.”

“How’s my best mate?” Simon kissed Jack’s head full of sandy curls.

“I missed you.” Jack squeezed tighter. “I was so bored.”

Penelope came waltzing in, her heels clicking against the floor. Tension immediately charged the air. Her sour expression said she didn’t appreciate Jack’s comment. While she was as beautiful as ever, with her long auburn hair cascading down her back and lithe dancer’s body, she wasn’t the most doting mother. Even she would admit to it. She was too self-absorbed and hated the day-to-day effort it took to look after an almost five-year-old. Yet, she didn’t like that their son noticed.

Simon had offered to take full custody of Jack, but she insisted on joint custody. He’d hoped that as Jack aged, Penelope would find more enjoyment in motherhood, but that hadn’t occurred. She wasn’t a terrible mother—she just didn’t seem capable of loving anyone, herself included. For as gorgeous and talented as she was, with several friends and colleagues who were more than happy to shower her with praise the moment she asked for it, it never satisfied her constant need for attention and validation. Simon had once counted himself her greatest admirer, but not even he was enough for her.

Simon stood with Jack clinging to him. “How are you?” He did his best to keep it cordial. He was past most of the bitterness he’d felt when she’d come to him just over a year ago and said she was leaving him, and there would be no discussion about it. Honestly, he felt mostly relieved. Their marriage hadn’t been the loving partnership he’d hoped for.

“I’m well. And just so you know, I took Jack to the park and out to dinner both nights. I’m busy trying to get the studio open, so he had a lot of screen time,” she admitted while trying to defend herself.

Penelope had purchased the old dance studio she’d taken lessons at from age three until she’d graduated from high school. It needed a lot of renovations. But it was supposedly her dream and the reason they moved back to the States. He only hoped it wasn’t like all her other dreams that she’d quickly grown bored with and quit. First, she wanted to become a Rockette, and she had, but after a year she said the other women in the troupe were just jealous of her talent and were mean, so she quit. Then she set her sights on Broadway and did a few productions, but she found it too tedious. After that, she decided she wanted to have a baby, which Simon was more than thrilled about. Jack was his pride and joy. Penelope had even agreed to move back to the UK with him. It was Simon’s hope to have his son speak proper English, and he wanted Jack’s formative years to be in his native country.

“I’m sure you did your best,” Simon responded, not wishing to get into an argument with her.

“You’re patronizing me. I know you think I’m an awful mother.”

“I don’t think that at all.” Simon walked toward the kitchen, holding tightly to Jack, hoping Penelope would get the hint and not stay long. He looked forward to some father-son time before he put his little mate to bed and resumed his search for the photo album.

Penelope followed and looked around the cottage’s kitchen. It was small and cozy, with old-fashioned wooden cabinets and a rustic tile floor. An old cuckoo clock ticked loudly on the wall near the eating nook. Simon liked that the cottage wasn’t new or flashy. He missed old things. He missed home. But for the sake of his son, here he was.

Penelope looked around the room and sighed heavily. She took in all the details, from the butcher-block counters to the way the last of the sun’s rays filtered in through the windows along the back of the kitchen. She seemed to be searching for something; for what, Simon wasn’t sure. Their entire relationship was a lot like that. She always wanted anything but what they had.

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