Foreign Objects

   There were several ways of understanding her: there was what she said, and there was what she meant and there was something between the two, that was neither.

                                                                                                     Henry James

Jenny loved the smell of gasoline. Her old Jeep was a gas guzzler so fueling up every few days meant it was a smell she was familiar with. She stood there, gas cap in hand, waiting for the last few drops of petrol to deposit in the tank. As Jenny looked around for a moment at her surroundings, she noticed a young man staring at her at the next pump.

"You look like you're a million miles away," he said in amusement. Jenny laughed softly replying "I suppose I am" she tightened the gas cap, took her receipt, waved goodbye to the stranger and got on her way. Jenny was a million miles away and she could feel her mind slipping and forgetting with each passing day.

At first, it was small things. A missed appointment here and there or forgetting where she'd put her keys. Seemingly normal absent-mindedness.
Until she began forgetting where she was going when she was driving and had to pull over on the side of the road to juggle her memory or waking up in her own bed some mornings and not recognizing any of the familiar surroundings. Everything around her appearing to be foreign objects.

Some days, it was terrifying. Her memory would abandon her for a handful of moments and then she'd be in the middle of something or somewhere without any honest recollection of why.

Her boyfriend Cal knew what Jenny did not yet.....that she was losing her mind.

                                                         

Cal figured in his heart that Jenny was suffering a form of PTSD. She was now in her late 30's, still quite beautiful but much of her past seemed to be catching up with her resilience and good nature. He would encourage her to be seen by her doctor but Jenny was stubborn. Monumentally stubborn. They'd been together only a few months but he'd already known so much about her. Cal met Jenny at a sandwich shop in South Boston on a rainy, raw February afternoon. He noticed her almost immediately. Huddled in a corner booth nibbling on a corned beef sandwich with mustard in a few strands of her long curly brown hair. Her facial features gentle, proportionate and attractive with huge blue eyes. Scribbling words on a yellow legal pad and humming a tune. Her leather jacket got his immediate attention. This soft, pretty, feminine creature wearing a scuffed up masculine biker's leather. It was a sexy paradox to the naked male eye.

Jenny arrived home a few minutes after 4 o'clock with a paper bag full of provisions from the market. She was planning a romantic dinner for them both. She had missed him so....... it had been a while since they'd seen each other. Jenny felt good today but needed space from Cal. She liked him very much but he asked so many questions that Jenny just didn't like answering. Every once in awhile she'd ask for a break. They'd only been dating a few months. She had missed him, yes--missed him so very much. It felt like it had been an eternity since they'd seen each other. Jenny missed him to to the marrow of her bones.....

 It had been a hard couple of years since the plane crash when Jenny lost the only love of her life. A week or so after she and his family had buried him--Jenny found out she was pregnant with their first child. Her body ached with sadness where somebody else may have found a pregnancy a bittersweet and triumphant blessing. Jenny hadn't told anyone about the pregnancy so when she lost it only a month later, her deep, relentless pain and emptiness continued on as harrowing as before....only worse now.
There was guilt for not taking better care of herself and losing his baby. Their baby. Jenny felt in her bones it was likely a boy. Her grief was swallowing her whole......

Cal pulled into Jenny's small pebbled driveway and before he even made it to her porch, the scent of simmering garlicky marinara met his nostrils. Jenny was one of the finest cooks he'd ever shared a relationship with and this made him happy--to know she was busying herself in the kitchen again. It was a healthy sign, he thought. Before the loss of Andy, Jenny had been a highly sought after food and wine photographer. After his funeral, friends told Cal she never much left the house and didn't allow visitors for a concerning stretch of time and rarely responded to calls or even texts from desperately nervous friends. Jenny didn't have any family that she ever spoke of.

Cal knocked politely on the screened door, a posy of pink English roses in his hand. Pink English roses. Jenny's favorite. Jenny answered the door and for a moment, Cal felt the wind knocked out of his chest. Wearing a gauzy, white linen slip of a Summer dress, her hair loosely piled atop her head... tendrils of curls framing her soft exquisite face, he thought she looked ethereal. Angelic.
Her face lit up when her eyes met his and Cal felt a strong pang of desire.

Jenny threw her arms around him and didn't want to let go. She missed the feel of his body against her own. She had so much to tell him. Time seemed to stand still and she wanted to freeze these very minutes.

"I have our song. Don't you want to hear it? Jenny whispered in his ear breathy and warm.

Uneasiness came over Cal in a grave instant. Jenny took his hand, her face lit up from the inside like the sun.......' come, let me play it for us'....as they stood together in Jenny's kitchen.


 Everything around them like foreign objects.