I
couldn’t remember her name.
She shouted at me from the far end
of the food court in the crowded mall. It didn’t seem to matter to her that I
was checking the price and cut of a really nifty linen jacket hanging on the
sale rack outside the boutique. She just kept calling my name until she had my
full attention. That had always been her way. Having set her sights on
something of interest, she went after it with dogged determination. Like a
racehorse with blinders.
I set aside the jacket and waited
for her to come closer.
I greeted her with a smile. Had she
been less determined to hold my attention, she would have noticed that my bland
smile said, your face is familiar, but
for the life of me, I can’t remember who you are.
“I want to thank you for helping me
with my baby,” she panted, her breath coming in quick bursts after her uneven
run-hop dash across the mall. “You’re an angel.” She leaned into me and threw
her arms around me. “You made me have my baby.”
Her words should have given me a
clue as to who she was, but I was still coming up blank. I stared back at her,
riffling through my memory for one tiny hint of our connection, while
attempting to keep my face from showing the bewilderment I felt inside.
