Page 11 of Forget Me Not

“Gee, thanks.” I go back for my coffee, and hope that she can’t see me blush. Mags has a weird way of delivering insults in the most complimentary way.

“B became everything to me, because he helped me become me. Find myself in the mess and chaos.” She cradles her mug in her palms, resting her hands on her lap. “You think being a crack-whore baby is rough, imagine being saddled with the name Magdalene to top it off. Do you know, the ridicule I endured before I was even old enough to get the joke? I hated my name. Hated where I came from. Hated everything about myself. Then, B came along, started calling me Mags, and suddenly, I didn’t have to be that girl anymore. I was free. Just like that. Just because of a name.”

It’s almost eerie how similar our lives have been.

“Gun...did that for me too,” I whisper. I’m finding it suddenly hard to speak. Hard to not start bawling. Mags would so not appreciate that. “My mom didn’t even name me. She showed up in the hospital in labor. The staff was in such a rush to get her settled and ready to deliver, they never even noticed the name she put down for herself wasAlice Cooper. By the time the dust settled and the nurses were reviewing the paperwork, it was too late. She was gone. And I was left. No name. No nothing. Baby Girl Cooper. That was all they had. Didn’t take long before they filled in Jane as sort of a space saver, which eventually turned permanent. Jane Cooper. Really wasn’t any better than Jane Doe.” I swipe my cheek with the back of my hand. “Which, plenty of kids called me anyway.”

I see Mags move out of the corner of my eye and when I glance up, I’m greeted with a bite size Kit Kat bar. I chuckle through my tears. Mags is nuts.

“So, that’s why you go by Cooper?” she asks, unwrapping a piece of chocolate for herself as well.

“Sort of. This one afternoon, I just lost it. Some kid at my house had found that mental scab and just picked and picked and until I totally came undone. Of course, I went running to Gun, and he was pissed. I got so distracted trying to talk him out of killing the kid, I stopped feeling sorry for myself. That night, Gun broke into social services, busted into my case worker’s desk and found my file. The next morning, he brought it to me, smiling. Said I had a name. It was Cooper. Before that day, I never knew about my mom or how she put down a fake name. So, I never had any attachment to any part of my given identity. But Gun convinced me it wasn’t random. That she was probably a fan. That it was her own secret way of passing something down to me, the only thing she gave me. So, I took it. I’ve been Cooper ever since. And, it’s always felt right.”

“We’re special, Coop. You and me. Having people like Gun and B in our lives.”

I agree. I don’t know where I’d be without him. Or who.

She leans over and squeezes my wrist gently. “I tend to believe we connect with people in this way for two reasons. One, because they’re family. Kindred spirits you have been tied to for all eternity, people you’ll meet in this life, you’ll recognize from lives before.. That’s B. He’s been my big brother from the moment we met. We both knew it, both felt it. The other is something else, something beyond the familiar realm. It’s fated. It’s...a soulmate. And as far as I can tell, you only find that once and you can always tell the difference.”

“What do you think it’s like? Meeting your soulmate?” I’ve never been in love. Ever. Never thought to much about it one way or the other, until today.

“I don’t think, I know.” She smiles in her Mags way, but her eyes are softer and sadder than before. “Brighton Messner. We were nineteen when we met. Crashed my VW bug into the back of his motorcycle. I was only rolling at about ten miles per hour, and I did it on purpose, in the parking lot, so I didn’t hurt him but I did get his attention.”

I stare at her incredulously, this has ‘Mags is screwing with you’ written all over it.

“Still can’t tell when I’m fucking with you, huh?” She smirks. “I’m being serious this time.”

“Of course, you are.” Because only Mags would see a guy she liked and decide to hit him with her car.

“Don’t knock it ‘till you try it.” Her pointer finger pokes out in my direction, “but don’t try it until you’re legal and I don’t have to deal with the consequences.”

I nod. “I think I can manage that.” I watch her. I wait. Surely there was more to this story. “What happened between you and Brighton after you crashed into him?”

Mags spends an awfully long time swishing her cup back and forth and watching the coffee swirl inside before she takes another drink. She swallows. Again. Even though she’s no longer drinking her coffee.

“We were together from the moment we met. I was his and he was mine. He did more than just accept me for the fucked up individual I was, he cherished me. Took all the parts of me, all the dark and ugly and angry and loved them unconditionally. And in return, I did the same for him. And it was easy. It just...made sense.” Her voice wanes as she comes to the end of her story. Though, it can’t be the end. I live with her and this Brighton soul mate of hers is noticeably absent.

My stomach drops as I draw the only possible conclusion. “Mags?”

“Two years ago, he was working in construction, this high-rise in the city. The site wasn’t safe, they were being pushed to rush the job. He’d been complaining about it for weeks, but it was work and he felt responsible for his crew, so he was there day and night, doing his best to make a bad situation manageable.” She pauses, tapping her finger on the outside of his mug. She’s been going through this story like she’s on auto-pilot. No emotions. No thoughts. It’s repeated from memory, but I know deep down, it’s killing her. “I’m told there was an accident, part of the structure began to collapse and one of his guys was trapped. Brighton made everyone evacuate while he stayed behind to try and free him. Anton Shupe. Same age as us, married with a baby on the way. I know Brighton. He was going to get Anton out no matter what the cost. And he did. And it cost him. Cost me.”

My eyes are burning. I don’t want to cry. I want to be strong, like Mags.

She wipes her cheeks though she hasn’t shed a tear. “They named the baby after him.”

“That’s nice.” Emptier words have never been spoken. I reach into my pocket and find a Kit Kat bar from earlier. “Chocolate?”

“Yes, please.” She takes the candy bar and we both sit in silence while she eats it. “God, this conversation took a heavy turn.”

I cringe. “I’m sorry. I was all confused about love and Gun and stuff. It’s my fault.”

“True.” She cocks her head to the side. “Still confused?”

More than ever. But I’m scared to say so. “That was really deep stuff.”

“Deep. But simple. You want to know where Gun and Reed fit into the grand scheme of things? Only three possible slots for them to land in.”

“Three?” I counted two.

---