Page 12 of Forgettable in Every Way

That, he couldn’t have. “No. I believe I’m finally thinking straight.”

Jules whipped her head back his way. She opened her mouth as if she wanted to say something, but no words formed.

Simon wasn’t sure if she was angry or frustrated, so he didn’t know how to proceed for fear of scaring her off or upsetting her. But all he could think about was that perhaps moving to Aspen Lake wouldn’t be as dreadful as he’d feared it would be.

Jules

I ARRANGED THE CONCEPT BOARDS I’d been working on for months—one for each room in my parents’ house—on the queen-size bed in the guest room I was staying in. Which happened to be my old room. Not surprisingly, my sisters’ rooms had remained the same since their high school days. According to my mom, she’d boxed up all my old things and put them in the attic. Mom claimed she made my room an extra guest room because it was closest to the guest bathroom. Because guess who was the only child not to have her own en suite bathroom? If you chose me, you would be correct.

I supposed it didn’t matter now. Soon, the entire house was going to be boxed up. I wasn’t sure how to feel about it. This was, after all, my childhood home. Yet, it didn’t exactly feel like home. Home to me was more of a feeling or a person rather than a place. I couldn’t even say my condo in LA felt like home. It was something I was still searching for.

With my trusty notebook in hand, I looked over each board, jotting down notes, documenting items to purchase or dates when certain pieces of furniture or textiles would arrive. My plan was to box up each room and then redecorate it before moving on to the next. For that, I needed to meticulously organize and fine-tune my plan. Unfortunately, my mind kept wandering as I thought about the unusual lunch with Simon, his son, and Calista earlier today. It didn’t help any with moving on from him. Especially since Calista swore he was flirting with me, and his charm had her wavering on hating him. She thought maybe I shouldn’t be so hasty in writing him off. I told her it was just the accent, and the fact she’d listened to those audiobooks and then reenacted them with Tristan. Again, that didn’t seem kosher to me.

It also wasn’t right the way Simon kept smiling at me and trying to engage me in conversation. Worst of all, I could easily see myself loving his son, Jack. Jack, who believed I was a magical princess and who had a giggle that melted my heart. Something about him just made me feel like myself, as weird as it sounded. It wasn’t fair. Even if Simon, by some miracle, was interested in me, which I was sure he wasn’t, there was no forgetting the way Simon looked at Penelope the first time he saw her. Like it was the first time the sun had shone upon him. She cast a shadow so large that I immediately got pushed into the dark. Not only had he forgotten me, and was sure to once again, but to be involved with Penelope’s ex and her child, that was a recipe for a disastrous heartache. She would never let that happen.

Despite us all being older, I doubted Penelope had mellowed with age. I knew how vindictive she could be when someone took something she had discarded, especially boyfriends. Poor Hazel Atwood found that out in our senior year of high school when she started dating Penelope’s ex, Trey Kearns. Nasty rumors started circulating about her. She was accused of everything from belonging to a cult to getting her clothes from Goodwill, which at Aspen Lake High was a mortal sin. It got so bad that Trey broke up with her and Hazel went to live with her aunt in Idaho. I didn’t spread any of the rumors, but I didn’t stop them either. For that, I still felt terrible. At the time, I was too worried about what Penelope could have done to me, her supposed best friend. I wish I had recognized earlier in life that there is a difference between a popular girl and a mean girl trying to keep everyone in their places. I knew if I ever had children of my own, I would teach them to distinguish between the two.

At this rate, though, that seemed unlikely. I couldn’t even get a man to remember my name for longer than thirty minutes, much less want to have a child with me. It didn’t matter that Simon had written his number on a napkin and given it to me, hoping I would call him. Not even he could remember my name. But he certainly seemed to remember our time together in New York for how often he brought it up at lunch. It was weird and a little unnerving. I felt like I was missing something with the whole Princess Jewel and Daft Prince story. Sure, it was cute and even flattering. But I’d tried looking up Princess Jewel books when I got home and couldn’t find them, not even in the UK.

Ridiculously, I kept staring at the napkin with Simon’s number I’d placed on the nightstand. It taunted me and started making me have delusions once again that Simon could think of me as more than just a friend. I refused to fall for that lie again. What I needed to do was throw it away. But each time I reached for it, I couldn’t do it. Furious with myself, I dropped the notebook on the bed and sighed. I needed a breather and some fresh air. Winston could probably use some too.

I shuffled out of the bedroom in search of the dog. To my surprise, my dad was coming down the hall, slowly using his walker. Normally, he stayed holed up in his study from sunup to sundown. I smiled at him, trying not to think about how it wasn’t that long ago that he was a vibrant man who had the kind of success most people only dreamed of. He’d made an incredible amount of money running a business consulting firm. So much so, he’d sold it for an obscene amount and retired early a couple of years ago. As far as I knew, my parents had plans to travel the world and maybe buy a house in the Caribbean. I wasn’t sure that would happen now.

Dad’s tall frame was now sunken, and he struggled to hold on to the walker. His silver hair was unkempt, and he’d traded his always-pressed-and-crisp clothes for sweats and an ill-fitting T-shirt.

“Hi, Dad,” I said as brightly as possible.

He grunted and nodded, unwilling to face me. Maybe he thought if he couldn’t see me, I couldn’t see him in his vulnerable state.

“I’m going to take Winston for a walk. You should come. We could go to the park and take him around the paved walking trail.” I knew traversing the rocky beach would be too much for him.

He shook his head and moved right past me, down the hall.

I watched him go, holding back my tears. Not only did I feel awful for him, but I felt sorry for myself. More than anything, I just wanted to be acknowledged and loved by my parents. I hated that I felt so alone in this house.

Once Dad had disappeared around the corner, I went in search of Winston. “Winston,” I called. “Let’s go for a walk, buddy.”

I walked into the open great room with an abundance of natural light streaming in from several windows, providing an amazing view of the lake. The large room with vaulted ceilings was adorned with pristine, white couches and chairs. It smelled like the lavender candles Mom loved to light at night.

Soon I would transform the room into something more practical and kid friendly and ship the beautiful furniture to my parents’ new home in Boston, closer to where my older sister, Violet, and her family lived. It was also near one of the best hospitals in the country, especially for stroke patients. Violet often flew all over the world to translate for diplomatic meetings and conferences. My parents frequently touted her and her perfect life with two kids—a boy and a girl, of course—and her husband, Hunter, a well-published psychiatrist.

My younger sister, Raina, lived in Virginia with her husband and daughter. Her husband, Victor, and she were both associate professors in ancient studies. They were currently collaborating on a book about ancient Greek law.

Both my sisters were incredibly accomplished, as my parents would say. And they would be right.

Maybe I wasn’t all that accomplished, and no one would ever know what I did, but I was pretty sure I made more money than either of my sisters. Not only that, but I had an impressive investment portfolio for a thirty-four-year-old. But it didn’t matter because, like my company, I was invisible. At least to humans. Dogs were another thing. When Winston saw me, he immediately got up from his favorite spot near the stone hearth and trotted over my way.

I petted his head. “You ready for a walk?”

He plopped down at my feet. I guess that meant no.

I smiled. “Too bad.”

I coaxed him over to the mudroom, where we kept his leash. I noticed my mom’s keys were gone from the hooks. She was probably out with friends again, having their “last hurrahs,” as she called them. Every time I’d come home over the last several months to help, she seemed to do a lot of hurrahing. I got the feeling she didn’t want to be at home. There was a weird tension between my parents, almost like they were avoiding each other. Not like they were ever super affectionate, but they were always an amiable couple. Now that I think about it, it was odd. It was almost as if they were good business partners and not husband and wife. Not to say every couple needed to be passionate lovers like Calista and Tristan. Although, I hoped for such a relationship. Or you know, someone who remembered my name.

I put Winston’s leash on and had to carry him down to the lower level of my parents’ home and then out the patio door. Which was no easy feat, considering he weighed over fifty pounds. Good thing I’d been working out. Once outside on the stone patio, I let the lazy dog down and brushed his hair off my tank top and shorts. “This is good for you,” I reminded him.

His disgruntled look said otherwise.

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