Writing for Fun
March 2015
The Reunion - Bob Wendelkin
He sat on the bench overlooking the sea just watching the sail boats; like his thoughts, they were just going round in circles, still he thought if they enjoy doing that, so be it. He looked down into his hand where he held a key. He turned the key over and over in his fingers trying hard to remember the door into which this key would fit, and what it would mean to him if it did.
He massaged a scar that he had on the side of his head, he remembers how he got it but anything before that time had gone. He remembers the day he was walking along the road going to Great Queens Street in London and then a sharp slam in his back as he was smashed against the wall by the blast as a terrorist blew herself up.
From that moment every memory of his life had gone, his blood soaked clothes and papers that he had on him had been destroyed by the hospital so everything of his previous life had gone. Occasionally, something would trigger an image of his past life but it was isolated and he wasn't able to string his past life together.
He continued to twist the key in his hand, one day he thought he might find the door to his past. He was fortunate that some parts of his memory was clear as he could recite large parts of Freemasonry Ritual so he suspected that in his past life he was a Freemason. That Brotherhood had taken him under their wing and he was looked after in one of their sheltered flats until he was well. Although he was alive he wanted his past back, that which she had taken from him.
Picking himself up he started to make his way to the theatre where he was to see a Ballet. For some reason the Ballet seemed to be important to him, whenever a visiting ballet came to the town he would have to go. This time it was to be Swan Lake.
He sat there enjoying the performance, then at the very end a flash of his past memory returned. He was with a beautiful young girl who was training to be a ballerina and he knew that he was in love with her. Was she anything more than a passing passion in his past life, he hoped she was much more but he couldn't tell, she was just a face, albeit a most beautiful face. Then the memory passed but it seemed that his memory was beginning to heal after all these years as these memory flashbacks were becoming more frequent.
He left the theatre feeling a little happier with himself as if she was anything to him he knew he must have been happier with her than he was at the present, being alone.
Back in his flat he put the TV on and started to watch a Countryside programme about a village in Dorset. Bits of the village seemed familiar: the Pond and the Public House they seemed once more to trigger a memory. Was it of his boyhood or adult life? As yet he didn't know. Somehow that village was important to him, to his past life, he felt he should visit there and see what he could find out.
A few days later he managed to take some leave from his job and caught the train to Dorset. He found a B & B to stay and unpacked his case and settled in for his evening meal.
The owner of the B & B served him a lovely meal; it was plain but beautifully cooked. After his meal he settled into the lounge and started to talk to the owner about his memory problem and how he was in search of his past. He asked her the best way to get to the village. As he didn't have a car the best way was to take the local bus.
The next day he caught the bus that would take him to the village. As he travelled once more flashes of his memory returned there were familiarities of the road. He was certain that this area of the world was of some importance in his past life.
Arriving at the village he walked around but there was nothing of real significance that he could remember. He decided that he would have lunch in the local pub. In there he might find out some information about himself.
It was unfortunate the Publican was quite new, so his historical knowledge of the area was limited. A couple of the locals came in for their lunchtime drink but they didn't shed any more light into his past.
They suggested that he should catch the bus to take him past the village to the other end of the bus route. He accepted their recommendation and left the pub to catch the bus.
After he left the pub one of the locals said to the other, 'You know who I think that is, I think it's one of the new comers, you know the one that supposed to have run off with a girl friend and left his wife, now he's come back with that cock and bull story of him being blown up and losing his memory.
The bus stopped and he decided to buy a ticket to the end of the ride as he didn't know how far he should to go. He asked the Driver to stop if he recognised any bit of the route.
Very soon the route became more and more familiar as his memory was stimulated by a tree here, a cottage there. Then suddenly, there it was, the lane. He shouted to the driver to stop so that he could get off.
He knew this lane was important to him, he felt that he was coming close to the end of his quest.
He started his walk down the lane. The sun was shining out of a clear blue sky and the late spring flowers were still at their best and some of the trees were breaking into bloom. Someone in the past had planted Flowering Cherry trees along the lane. They were in full bloom and the air was scented with their light fragrance.
On he walked more of his memory returned. The sun caused the babbling brook at the side of the lane to sparkle; it was flowing with a gentleness that seemed to sing of his welcome. Then he came to the stepping stones over the brook, he remembered putting them there to help shorten the journey to his cottage.
He stepped carefully over the stones to the other side of the brook; there he could see the ivy covered cottage.
His heart began to beat more swiftly as he got closer.
In the short distance he saw a boy and a girl fishing in the brook, beside them they had jam jars with bits of string tied as handles and small stickleback fish swimming around in the jars. Were they his children?
He approached the cottage and pushed open the gate, it squeaked as it had done in the past, he always intended to oil it, and he gently patted the gate as the affectionate memory returned. Further up a Cherry Tree in full bloom over hung the path; the beauty of nature in spring was magical.
Just then a small dog came running from around the back of the cottage, the last time he had seen this dog she was just a pup. Now she jumped up at him, it was clear from the fuss she made of him she still remembered him.
His heart almost bursting out of his chest he approached the front door. He knocked gently wondering if the key, that he had nurtured for so long, was the key to this door?
Slowly the door opened and there stood a beautiful woman.
Looking into her face hoping for recognition and a reunion he asked the question, 'Do you know who I am?'
She returned his look and answered, 'Yes, of course I do, how could I ever forget you.'
'Do you mean?'
'Oh, yes, now hiss off!'
'I know you. You're a girl from the office.'
'Yes, Peter, but I'm more than that, I'm also your wife and the mother of your two children, you may have seen them they are outside fishing in the brook.'
'How did you come to work in the same office?'
'Come in and I'll tell you.'
Peter followed his wife into the cottage and she started to tell him her part in his life story.
'When you were hurt by the explosion I didn't know until I saw your picture on the TV asking if anyone knew this person. Well I recognised you straight away. I came to the hospital but you didn't recognise me; your memory had gone.'
'I'm so sorry.'
'I was told that you could get your memory back at anytime but it could take some time. When you came out of the hospital I told your Lodge and they were very supportive and found you a place to live and found a job for both you and me. I was so grateful they smoothed a lot of the problems we could have fallen into. Now I could look after you from a distance and just hope for that moment when your memory returned.
'I could tell your memory was returning as some of the things you would say. Then a few days ago you asked for leave to come to Dorset I knew things were happening. You see we had a holiday home here, this place, and we had spent many happy days here. So I took some leave and came here just in case you turned up. And here you are.'
'Oh, Mary I knew there was someone out there who I was missing so much, now you have completed my life. From your actions I never realised you loved me quite so much.'
With his memory virtually restored he took hold of his Mary and gave her such a cuddle, with tears streaming down his face, they felt they had come together and the missing years faded into insignificance.