She could remember their first date. After being friends for so long, it felt odd, with the atmosphere of a lingering romantic air. Her in a dress, him in something other than shorts and a t-shirt. She remembered the way the candlelight danced across his face and the slight clinging of the utensils as he fumbled for them to cut his steak – slightly nervous. She remembered thinking he shouldn't have a had a right to be nervous – she had asked him on the date. She should've been nervous. It didn't occur that he had feelings for her that dated back their freshman year of college. He had snatched the check of the table, raising an eyebrow towards her as if to say, there's no damn way I'm letting you pay. She responded that she'd pay for their next date. He obliged, happy enough with the prospects of a second date. The prospect of it being more than just a few dates settled in both of their minds. She remembered him walking her home that night, one arm around her loosely, but set, as if to protect her. And them standing on her doorstep, neither wanting the night to end. And how he kissed her suddenly, nearly knocking her off her feet. And softly saying goodbye before she went inside, keeping her eyes looking through to shrinking crack in the door as she shut it. Her friend behind her, waiting to hear the details after hearing about her crush on him for years.
She could remember the first time he said he loved her. Sometimes, when they'd cuddle on the couch she'd drift off to sleep, warm in his arms. Three months into their relationship, he began to realize how much he was in love with her. He didn't quite know how to vocalize it – he'd never felt that way about anyone before. He'd never been the type to stay with one girl for long enough to feel that way. He'd wait until she fell asleep, whisper her name to make sure, and then whisper "I love you" and kiss her softly on the forehead before falling asleep himself. She liked to play around sometimes, and one night, she pretended to fall asleep in his arms, and when he said her name to check if she was asleep, she made no response. She heard him mumble he loved her, and felt his lips press to her forehead. She smiled softly, and whispered that she loved him. His eyes grew wide and she started laughing softly. "I do though", she said, lifting her head so she could kiss him with no teasing.
She could remember how it felt to kiss him. She'd place her hands on either side of his face and pull it towards her, smirking slightly and teasing him, not quite placing her lips on his. He'd usually roll his eyes and wraps his arms around her waist to pull her to him the last inch and kiss her. The rest of the time, he'd amuse to her and wait for the kiss nonchalantly. She could remember how his lips felt on hers, and how if she ran her finger over one little dimple she'd feel the stubble he missed when he shaved the night before. For the first few months of their relationship, when they're kisses would go even just a little too far, she press her hands on his chest and say, "Whoa there, tiger" and she'd chuckle before pecking his lips once more and walking away, giving him a smile over the shoulder. And he'd follow her to wherever she went. The couch to watch a movie, the kitchen to make a snack, the door to go out. During the middle and end of the relationship, she'd let things progress with as much enthusiasm as he showed. But at the end of the night, they'd end up in each other's arms, talking about everything. Their pasts, presents, futures, dreams, and secrets.
She remembered moving in with him. The hilarity of their move in, trying to make all the boxes neat so they could attempt unpacking in an organized way – but realizing they both had too much stuff and giving up, ordering pizza and eating off parts of cardboard and drinking wine straight from the bottle. She remembered lying beside him on the mattress place haphazardly in their new bedroom that night, her eyes looking out of the window at a new view, a new view for the newest chapter of her life.
But she could remember when he began to drift. Six months in that new apartment did something. She believed their relationship became stronger, his yearn for change made him feel the loss of something in their relationship. She noticed when he would come home hours after his shift at work ended. How she'd be sitting on a chair in the living room, her eyes darting between a movie she wasn't really watching and the front door. By midnight, he'd walk through, eyes trained on the ground, jacket in his hands, a slight dot of red on his collar – which for a while, went unnoticed. It went unnoticed as she picked his clothes off the floor after her suspicision and sadness of his late arrival slowly forgotten as he forced himself to prove that he still loved her. It went unnoticed as she looked over the shirts with a stain remover, and throwing it in the washing machine. It went unnoticed as she ironed his shirts, ironing the collars smooth, not noticing the small splotch of red that had set in as a stain. She noticed it the first time when he came home late as usual, she'd go up and wrap her arms around him, standing on her toes to place her chin on his shoulder. And she saw it, unmistakable a small bit of red lipstick.
She remembering pulling away, her eyes glazed over. Her hands running down the lengths of his arms as she backed away. He raised an eyebrow at her and questioned what was wrong. She pointed to the stain, commenting she wouldn't wear red lipstick unless performing. His face fell slightly, seeing what she was trying to say. He tried to speak her name, but she interrupted him. She told him not to lie to her. To tell her exactly what happened and what he wanted. She remembered how his face went blank when he told her he didn't love her anymore. She looked at her feet, studying the color of the carpet as she tried to let her mind take in what he said. She didn't try and plead with him, she didn't say "But I love you" she turned and walked into their room, pulled out her suitcase and packed a decent amount of clothing away. She turned back towards the living room, seeing him leaning against the doorframe, a beer in hand, his eyes watching her. She took her purse and laptop bag. Opening the door, she rested her hand on the knob for a second and turned to him, no tear threatening to fall, no color on her cheeks, just a blank stare, and said she'd come back for the rest of her things while he was at work the next day.
She remembered her first week in her old apartment with her friend. She slept on an air mattress in her old room. Her old room where she fell asleep after the first date, the room she snuck into after her first night with him, the room she barely slept in for three months prior to moving in with him. She remembered not crying, feeling numb and alone, even with her friends there. She remembered going back for her the rest of her things. Seeing his empty coffee mug next to the sink, a piece of paper with her name on it on the counter which she didn't bother to more than glance at, her clothes neatly folded and waiting for her on the couch. Her toiletries and personal effects next to them. The books and dvds and everything else she had added into their home was on the ground in front of the couch. All of which she loaded into her car and stored in the corner of her old room. Not bothering to unpack some of it. Something she could bring herself to do.
She remembered seeing him for the first time, a harsh look in her eye as her eyes grazed the tall blonde on his arm. His eyes connected with hers for a second. There was not look of apology, no sense that he remembered what had occurred only a week prior. She remembered the next week, seeing a curvy redhead on his arm, and him not even looking at her. She remembered the leggy brunette, the short redhead, the curvy blonde which came in the following weeks. She'd shake her head with disgust upon seeing a new girl.
She remembered her first date three months after. A friend she had simply passed over – who had worked with her for some time. He waited until after he knew she'd been single for some time, letting her heal. He'd always greet her in the mornings, with bright eyes. She remembered bringing him around her friends the first time. The man with the new girl on his arm skimmed his eyes over her new beau, with a quizzical expression. And in that moment, he realized the mistake he had made. She didn't remember his realization. Her smiled fixated on someone new, he hands on the cheeks of someone new, falling asleep on the couch with someone new, and being dropped off at her apartment by someone new. But still, she'd remember.
She remembered the first date, his first I love you, his kisses, moving in with him, and losing him.
Her name was Lauren Lopez, and she remembered Joseph Walker.