Greg was teetering on the makeshift dance floor that was usually his fraternity's dining room, moving unsteadily from the keg to the center of the action. The Squeeze was playing loudly from the speakers that surrounded the room. He was humming the tune, Pulling Muscles From The Shell, as he rejoined his circle of friends. A drunken smile was plastered to his heavily perspiring face. He was fast forgetting the midterms that had plagued his life during the two weeks prior to the party. All worry, all tension and anxiety, were fast dissolving in an alcohol-induced stupor. This, thought Greg, is what life is all about.
To his left was his fraternity big brother, Jerry. And on his right was Jerry's girlfriend. His other brothers, all guys who at that moment he loved more than his own family, surrounded him. And dancing directly in front of him was Leslie, who was there for their mixer with Tri Delt. Greg had never met Leslie before, but he was mighty glad she had shown up. Blurry as his vision was, he knew she was a looker. Jerry leaned in and whispered in Greg's ear, "Nice job, my man." Greg responded by nodding and grinning. Words were too difficult to formulate by that point. He looked up and saw that Leslie was smiling at him as she swayed to the music. Greg sheepishly smiled back.
Relax, by Frankie Goes To Hollywood, came on next. The dense crowd shouted and a rush of people crammed the already full dance floor. Greg and Leslie were pushed in tight together. Their eyes locked on each other and Greg smiled widely again. Then, before Greg knew what had hit him, her lips were on his. She tasted like vodka and orange juice. He wrapped his arms tight around her and moved to the rhythm of the music. It was like the outside world had suddenly faded away and all that existed was this heavenly girl and the great music blaring overhead.
For a brief instant he stood still and concentrated hard on one thought. Remember this, he told himself. Remember. Remember. Remember.
And then, Beep. Beep. Beep.
Greg looked up, but he didn't know where the sound was coming from. Pretty soon it drowned out the music.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
And then, "Greg. Greg, get up…Please, Greg. Turn the alarm off, already."
"What?" Greg said, groggily. He tried hard to hold on to the dream, but it was too late. He was up. "Yeah, okay," he grumbled, reaching over to turn the alarm off. "I'm up."
His wife rolled over and went back to sleep. She didn't have to be up for another hour, but Greg had to be at work by seven. He lumbered into the bathroom and turned on the light, temporarily blinding himself. Once he grew accustomed to its glare he trudged over to the mirror to shave. The dream came back to him in an instant, but it was all a haze by then.
"What was it I was supposed to remember?" he said to himself. That's when he caught his reflection in the mirror, and he grimaced. The image didn't even almost resemble the boy in the dream. That much he could recall. Gone was the thick head of black, wavy hair. In its place was a receding hairline that was peppered with gray. His massive sideburns and mustache were long gone. He could never keep his job if he still had them, much as he'd like to. And worse than all that were the wrinkles that had suddenly appeared around his eyes and along his forehead. "Fuck," he said, and turned away from the mirror. He was too depressed to shave. Maybe no one will notice, he thought.
The rest of the day went as usual at his law firm. Greg's life was always busy. Full of problems that eventually went away and were replaced by new ones. It was an endless cycle. And by noon, he had completely forgotten the happy dream. His never-ending responsibilities pushed all thoughts but work out of his head. And when six o'clock rolled around, he was ready to head on home. Of course, home was no piece of cake either. Between the bills, the mortgage, his kids and their incessant need for all his hard earned money, and all of life's other ups and downs, there was very little time for rest and relaxation. That's not to say that he didn't love his family. He did. He just wished there was a minute in his day when he didn't have to think, or worry, or plan.
After dinner he watched some TV, but he quickly grew tired and kissed his wife before going to bed. These early nights were becoming the norm for Greg. By ten he could barely keep his eyes open anymore. The time he spent with his family, especially his wife, was growing less and less with each passing year. There simply weren't enough hours in the day.
Greg passed out just after brushing his teeth. And then he was back at college again.
Greg looked at the clock on the wall of the library. It was already two in the morning and he still had a good hour of studying to go if he wanted to be prepared for his Biology final. Greg was pre-law, but he had to take at least one science class in order to graduate with his B.A. He did well in Biology in high school, so he thought this college class would be a piece of cake. Man, was I wrong, he thought. College Biology was hard as hell and Greg was struggling.
Across from him sat Leslie. The two had been dating for the last year and a half. She was studying for her English Lit. final. The two had been spending as much time together as possible before they'd be separated for the summer. Each had families and summer jobs to go home to. Hers in the South, his up in Connecticut. Neither was thrilled at the prospect of being apart for three months.
Greg looked up from his book and watched as Leslie studied.
Damn, look at how beautiful she is, he thought to himself. How did I get so lucky?
Leslie looked up and smiled. "What?" she asked. "Stop staring."
Greg smiled and went back to his studying. Leslie reached over and stroked his hand.
Remember this
, he thought. Remember. Remember. Remember.And then the fire alarm went off in the library and Greg looked up at the ceiling. Only it wasn't the library ceiling he was staring at and it wasn't the fire alarm in the library he was hearing.
"Greg, hit the alarm," his wife said.
"Yeah, okay," he responded, and turned it off.
"Hey," his wife added. "You were mumbling something in your sleep. I think it was the word Remember. You were repeating it. What do you need to remember?"
Greg lay there and tried to recall what it was, but he couldn't. He had a vague recollection of being back at college and he knew he was supposed to remember something, but for the life of him he couldn't think of what it was. "Must've been dreaming about studying something back in school. Something I needed to remember," he said to his wife, though he knew instantly that that wasn't it. It just didn't sound right. Greg always hated taking exams, so he seriously doubted that he'd want to remember one. Or anything vaguely associated with Biology, for that matter. Wait, I was studying with someone, but whom? But the memory had already faded.
All through his long, hard day Greg tried as best he could to remember the dreams, but all he could bring to mind was that they occurred at college. So instead of the dream, he tried to remember what college was like. Nearly two decades had passed and those specific four years were a distant memory. Still, he did remember that he was happy there. Even with his schoolwork he knew that, for the most part, he was carefree. He also knew that that was last time in his life that he was able to feel that way. He frowned at the thought.
What makes then so different from now? Besides the obvious physical differences, why was I so much happier?
Greg laid his head on his desk and tried to think of an answer. Minutes later he was sound asleep. Once again he was back in college, this time in his senior year. He was sitting in the cafeteria eating, and he was temporarily alone.
He had just gotten the results back on his LSATs, the tests he would need to do well on in order to attend law school. To his great relief, he scored in the top ten percentile. The world, it seemed, was his for the taking. Greg sat in his chair and smiled broadly at the results that lay open before him. His good cheer was soon shattered.
Leslie walked up and sat down beside him. She had already seen the test results earlier that morning. Unlike Greg, she was less than enthused. Oh sure, she was happy for him and all, but she also knew what it meant in terms of their relationship. She planned on getting a teaching degree at a Southern university, so she could be closer to her family; and Greg planned on attending a law school in the North, preferably Yale, where his father graduated with his law degree. Neither of the two would budge on this issue. They had both been planning this for themselves since high school.
"What should we do," she asked him, after she sat down. The smile vanished from his face.
"I…I don't know. What do you think we should do?" He was afraid of her answer.
"I think you know." She started to cry. And then, so did he. Four years of his life had been spent at college so he could achieve his goals. But nearly all of those same four years were spent with Leslie. Was she part of his goals? Which was more important?
Leslie got up to leave. She looked down at Greg and said, "Remember this, Greg. Remember that this is your choice. Remember." And she walked quickly away from him. But before he could run after her, the nearby bell tower started to chime. The sound was deafening and he fell to the ground, covering his hears. With each strike of the bell, the word Remember reverberated in his head.
He bolted upright, still at his desk. His phone was ringing. He ignored it.
"I remember," he said to himself. And he was up in a flash.
"Leaving for the day. Won't be reachable. See you tomorrow," he said to his secretary, and before she could even think of a response he was out the door and on his way to his car.
I remember why I was so happy in college. I remember what I gave up to be where I am today. And I know what I'm giving up now,
he thought to himself as he sped down the street.He pulled up at the school a short while later. It was a little after three. She'd be just finishing up with her last class of the day, he figured. He waited for her outside her homeroom.
"Greg, what are you doing here? Is everything alright with the kids?" she asked, panicked at seeing her husband anytime before it was dark outside.
"I remembered," he said to her.
"Remembered? Remembered what?"
"My dream. I remember what it is I was supposed to remember."
"Well, I suppose it must be important then. What is it?" She leaned up against the wall and waited for her husband's response.
"Oh, um, well, I remembered that I forgot to tell you that I love you before I left for work this morning. And I remembered that I forgot to tell you the same thing yesterday. And the day before. And I remembered why it was I went to Duke instead of Yale. And I remembered why I was so happy in college. And I remembered that what used to make me happy is still there, only I kind of forgot it lately. And I remembered that you're the reason for all those things, Leslie." And he leaned in and gave his wife a big, old kiss on the mouth, like the one he gave her that night on the dance floor in his fraternity dining room all those years earlier. "But I'm not going to forget anymore, or ever again."
And he held his wife tight in his arms and it was like the outside world had suddenly faded away and all that existed was this heavenly girl and the one thought that kept running through his mind, Remember.
Rob Rosen lives, loves, and works in San Francisco. His first novel, Sparkle, was published in 2001 to critical acclaim. His short stories appear regularly on more than three-dozen literary sites worldwide, and have been published in the literary anthologies Mentsh (Alyson, 2004), I Do/I Don't (Suspect Thoughts Press, 2004), Travel a Time Historic (Cyber Pulp, 2005), Short Attention Span Mysteries (Kerlak Publishing, 2005), and Brotherhood (Alyson, 2005). Feel free to visit him at his website www.therobrosen.com or email him at robrosen@therobrosen.com.