Page 62 of Forget Me Not
“Ah, no, sorry,” the voice says, and I pull my hand back, eyeing an unknown number on the screen. The same number that tried calling after I left the diner. “Is this Claire Campbell?”
“It is,” I say, attempting to place the voice on the other side of the line. I don’t recognize the number, I have no idea who this could be, though this person does sound familiar. A middle-aged man I know I’ve somehow met.
“Hi, Ms. Campbell, this is Bill from Lowcountry Electronics just letting you know your prints are ready.”
I stay silent, still not exactly sure who this is or what he’s referring to, until it hits me like a slap, the recollection of the film at the bottom of that box.
The film I dropped off almost a week ago now. The film I had forgotten all about.
“Sorry for the back-to-back calls,” he continues. “Just trying to reach you before we close.”
“The prints,” I say, my heartbeat starting to pick up speed as I realizethiscould be the thing that’s still missing, the hidden piecethat might finally form the full picture. “You were able to develop them?”
“Sure was,” he says, a hint of pride in his voice. “The film held up surprisingly well. You said it got lost in some clutter?”
“A shoebox,” I say, a new thrill starting to work its way through my chest. “In the bottom of a drawer.”
“That makes sense. They probably turned out so well because it was kept in the dark.”
“Wow,” I say. “Wow, okay. Thank you so much. I can be there in twenty.”
“Sounds good,” he says. “I’m here ’til five.”
I arrive at the store just before they close, peeling into the same spot as before. Then I jump out of my car and jog inside, recognizing the same man behind the counter. Wire-rimmed glasses on the tip of his nose.
“Hey there,” he says, reaching to the side and grabbing a white envelope. He slides it across the counter as I reach into my purse, fingers trembling as I pull out my wallet. “I think you’ll enjoy looking through these old memories. There’s a lot of really good stuff in there.”
“I’m sure I will,” I say, my foot tapping as he runs my card. He pushes a receipt across the counter and I sign it quickly before grabbing the envelope and whipping around, gliding my finger beneath the seal. I’m too impatient to wait until I’m back in the car so I dump the prints into my palm, acutely aware of Bill’s eyes on my back as I take a few more steps toward the door… but then I stop, staring at the image resting on top.
An image of a woman I don’t recognize.
I lean in closer, trying to make sense of what I’m seeing. The woman looks to be in her forties, maybe. Auburn hair and dark brown eyes. She’s sitting at a picnic table with a beer in her handand I flip to the next one, a shot of the same woman posing at the base of a redwood.
“Excuse me,” I say, flicking through a couple more before I turn around to find Bill still staring from behind the counter. “I think you gave me the wrong envelope.”
“No,” he says, shaking his head. “That one is yours.”
“But I don’t—” I stop, looking down again at the woman holding a hiking stick, her leg perched on a rock as she stares into the sun. “I don’t know who this person is.”
He stays silent, a prickly expression taking over his face.
“These can’t be right,” I continue, remembering the hesitation I had felt when I first dropped off the roll; the clutter of this place and the fear that Natalie’s last moments might somehow get lost. “This woman is a complete stranger to me.”
“I’m sorry,” Bill says, shoulders tense as his tone turns defensive. “But I don’t know what to tell you. Those pictures are from the roll you dropped off.”
I flip through a few more, though they’re all the same. Various shots from a stranger’s vacation I can’t even begin to comprehend.
“The roll I gave you belonged to my sister,” I press, an anger starting to settle in deep as I think about how close I was to the truth, to finally having this all figured out, only for it to slip straight through my grip. “Iknowthese don’t belong to my sister.”
“Look,” he says as he folds his arms in front of his chest, “I just developed the film you gave me. I can’t control what winds up being on it.”
I sigh, looking down at the stack before slipping the pictures into the envelope, not even bothering to look through the rest. Then I make my way back to the car, a deep disappointment sitting on my chest as I slide onto the seat.
I stare down at the envelope still in my hand, wondering if I should throw it away before deciding to toss it into the bag by myside. Maybe the film belonged to my parents or something. Maybe Natalie found it in a box of old memories, the same place she found that picture of them, so I crank the engine, looking at the digital clock on the dash. It’s five o’clock now, and on the one hand, given all that I’ve learned, I’m not actually sure if I should go back to Galloway… but on the other hand, if Katherine Prichard’s camper is still out there, if it’s still sitting abandoned in the middle of the woods, then finding it feels like my last shred of hope.
I make the drive in silence, my mind blank and my body on autopilot until I approach that same wooden sign, the arrow begging for me to come back in. Then I feel my car roll to a stop, my fingers drumming against the wheel as I let myself imagine simply turning around, driving back in the direction of town. Running from my problems the way I always have ever since that day in the kitchen when I decided it would be easier, safer, to simply sit back and do nothing at all.
Instead, I take a deep breath and turn down the dirt road, bumping my way toward the house in the distance for what, I hope, will be the very last time.
