Promise to Remember Me

James Buchanan Barnes

We enter our apartment. It's around 9:45. I panic as I took in the buttery scent.

Strawberry Puff Pastry.

She baked again? This girl... I shake my head smiling.

"What is it?" Cynthia turns her head towards the door. Steve and I take off our shoes and place them on the shoe rack. Next to her heels.

Steve sniffs the air, "Bucky's favorite pastry?"

She hums satisfied and frolics to her room. Steve and I stumble into the kitchen. Wanting to get the desserts first.

A couple packages with red ribbons border a corner of the counter. Gifts?

Cards with names line each box:

Jessica Parks

Luke Fury

Francisco Cortez

Viola Dean

Fredricks Children

All cards signed with her signature. For all of people who suffer from a loss.

Why was she so kind? So gentle?

Steve lifts the glass dome off the cake stand, releasing the sweet, sticky scent of my favorite pastry.

I carry one up to my teeth, "Hell yes." The tart strawberry jam invades my taste buds. The salty, buttery, pastry flakey to perfection. And the glaze. Oh goddess, the honey glaze stuck to my lips.

I remove my hat and flick it onto the oak countertop. The world doesn't need me right now. Not this minute.

Cynthia's bare feet tread into the kitchen. I open my eyes from the sweet high to look at her.

Yellow striped pajamas with ruffles. Great. Like I didn't love her enough.

"Did the dessert meet to your satisfaction?" Her voice chimed into my ear.

"Even better." Steve licks his fingers with a pop, making Cynthia laugh.

I nod and take another flakey pastry into my fingers.

I hope this night goes by slow.

. . . . .

I stare at the clock above my dresser. Ticking the seconds, minutes, hours, away.

10:00. 10:30. 11:00. 11:30.

Cynthia Gregridge.

What was she going to do when Steve and I leave?

Sleep alone. Eat alone. Cook alone.

I couldn't help but think of the loneliness she's going to feel when we leave.

She could always date.

Nah.

She would wait until we come back.

I toss and turn. I close my eyes. And open them again. The only things that had changed are Steve's position and the time.

12:16

I sit up and hang my feet on the edge of this twin bed. This bed I was going to miss. This room. This apartment. This building. The alleyways. The way the breeze licks the trees just right. The way the sun rises to wake me up in the morning. I was going to miss it all.

I was going to miss it all because it all reminded me of her. Rolls of film tape in my head play back the memories we made together.

Graduation.

Steve's birthday.

Apartment hunting.

The park.

Planting trees.

Sharing malt shakes.

Eating sweets.

Just her smile that plays over and over again. All this time I've been worrying about her...

But how am I going to react?

I stand up, leaving my warm bed, and I exit the room I share with Steve.

Sorry, bud.

I close the door as quietly as I can and make my way to Cynthia's room.

I twist the knob to her room. Her faint peach scent engulfs me as I enter.

Her blanket coil around her long legs. Arms intertwined around the plush blanket.

Why did I even come in here?...

My brows knit in confusion. As much as I loved this woman, I hadn't seemed to understand her either.

I shake her shoulder tenderly.

"Cynthia?" I shake her again.

"Hmmm?" She opens one eye and smiles, still half asleep, "Yes, Bucky?"

I simper, "Uh...kind of frightened of Steve's flounder...can I sleep here?" I scratch the back of my neck.

Couldn't think of any other excuse. Sorry.

Cynthia fixes her blanket and scoots over to the wall, "Mhm." She lifts the blanket with her arm. Welcoming me into her warmth.

She turn towards me, eyes closed, "Couldn't sleep?" she mumbles. She nuzzles into my shoulder.

"...Yeah..." I breathe out. My heart was thumping wildly against my chest. I hope she doesn't hear.

"Good night, Bucky..." Cynthia's breathing slowed. Her long, dark brown hair softly framing her round face. Cheeks red with warmth.

Why did I love this dame?

Simple.

Because she loves me too.

And I will do anything to protect her.