The Forgotten

Today I was in the area of a Lion’s Choice (it’s essentially Arby’s, St. Louis style) for lunch, so I offered to pick up food for a coworker. However, I got so excited when I saw they had root beer floats on the menu (they’re my kryptonite, if kryptonite is delicious and drinkable) that I forgot to order anything for my coworker. I realized my error as I was walking out of the restaurant, so I hurried back in to place the order, thus preventing my coworker from going all Hungry Hippo on me.

Crisis averted. And in the process, I remembered a good story about forgetting from my past.

I had been dating a girl–we’ll call her Lindsey–for a few months. It was Easter week, and a few friends were having an Easter brunch at their house, so I invited Lindsey along. She lived on the way to the brunch, so I arranged to pick her up at 11:25 for the 11:30 brunch.

When I arrived at the brunch, the hosts were about 30 minutes behind schedule on several key dishes (the ham? The Easter bunny? I have no idea what was served that day), so we didn’t sit down to eat until noon. There were about 10 of us there. We served up the food and started eating and chatting. It was the ideal way to spend an Easter afternoon.

But something felt a little off. I had the funny feeling that I had forgotten something.

And then it hit me.

I had forgotten to pick up Lindsey.

It was 12:15 by this point, so she had been waiting for the last 45 minutes for me to get her. This was in the era of cell phones, but I can’t remember why she didn’t text or call (or maybe I just didn’t hear the text or call).

I told my friends what had happened as I stood up to go get Lindsey. I mean, what else but the truth could I have told them?

In the end, Lindsey wasn’t too mad, and my friends didn’t say a word as to not embarrass her. Everything worked out fine, just like the Lion’s Choice today.

Have you ever forgotten someone? A sibling, a significant other, maybe even a child?

11 thoughts on “The Forgotten”

  1. This story strikes me deeply, Jamey, because I have been The Forgotten.

    My harrowing tale: When I was young and innocent, my family’s car was a 1967 Pontiac station wagon with faulty door latches and no seat belts. If memory serves, every member of my family fell out of that car at least once. My time came as the car took a tight right turn at our town’s only stoplight. The door next to my seat yawned open and the car actively ejected me onto the street. As I rolled along the pavement then jumped to my feet, I watched our family car as it continued driving away. My sisters were turned around, peeking over the back seat staring at me as I tried to run to catch up with the car.

    They said nothing to my parents. Ergo, my parents just kept on driving.

    45 minutes later, AFTER the family got home, AFTER my parents did a head count, AFTER I had walked several miles toward home limping and bleeding from scrapes all over my body, they finally realized they were missing someone and came back to get me.

    Life is hard for The Forgotten. I will never be the same again.

    Reply
  2. Jamie,

    Nothing too tragic, we just left Rachel (our oldest) standing by the curb one night after a grade school event. I thought she was in the car, she should have been in the car, but she wasn’t. We only went 7-8 blocks before my wife realized it, but by then it was too late. Fifteen or so years later, the gentleman she went crying too brought it up again…it’s still funny.

    Reply

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