A Time to Remember

It was dark when the alarm clock went off. 39-year-old Jasmine Theodore glanced at the digital numbers—2:45 A.M. She smiled and glanced at her sleeping husband, carefully getting out of bed so as not to wake him. She crept over to her dresser and changed into jeans and an oversized Disturbed T-shirt. She was just leaving the bedroom when a hand grabbed her elbow. She turned around to face her husband, Ron.

“Where are you off to?” He asked.

“There’s a promise I have to keep,” she replied, “I’ll explain when I get home.”

He smiled at her and released her elbow, watching her small frame almost glide down the stairs, wondering where she was going. His gaze fell onto the calendar and he understood. It was February 3, Joey’s 40th birthday.

Jasmine drove in silence to a large house on the outskirts of town. It was a beautiful old house, Victorian in style, painted white, with red shutters and a large blue door. It had been the first house she had actually felt safe in, the first place she had felt loved. She drove up to the garage, got out and went to the back yard, straight for the giant willow tree there. She loved that tree; there were a lot of memories made there, from her first kiss to her final good-bye. Underneath the long branches there stood a rose bush that he had planted for her on her 18th birthday. It was the nicest thing anyone had ever done for her. She loved roses. She smiled when she noticed the shovel leaning against the trunk, Joey’s mother had remembered the day, a pleasant surprise since Alzheimer’s disease had set in.

She grabbed the shovel and began to dig. It only took 20 minutes to uncover the old suitcase. It had been a special suitcase for the two of them because it had J.J. stamped on the front and top. Not only had it been his initials, it had been the letters of their first name. He had considered that to be a sign. Grabbing the dirty handle, she lugged it from the hole, and then replaced the dirt. Turning to the rose bush, she plucked a small branch with a few buds forming on it, and placed it on the fresh earth as a final testament to her first love.

Jasmine slowly approached her car, dragging the suitcase behind her. Sitting in the back seat, she dragged the worn case onto her lap. With trembling fingers, she took a small key from a chain around her neck and unlocked it. The small latches gave easily to light pressure she put on them and the case lifted easily, even after over twenty years in the ground. In a reverent silence, Jasmine began to lift out the items that had been laid in there twenty two years before.
The first was a calendar. On the calendar was circled in bright red the date December 27. She smiled, that was the day they had met. Her smile faded as she remembered that first day. Joey Johansson had been the new kid, and an army brat, the son of a Marine and his wife. He was what anyone would call "weird"; his fashion sense was eccentric, and his long hair was always unkempt, while he constantly talked to himself. As a member of the school's welcoming committee, Jasmine had been assigned to show the newest member of the senior class around. She clearly remembered how he stared in awe at the school...

"It's not really a huge school, so you shouldn't get too lost. It's pretty easy to figure out; all the 100 classes are on the first floor, 200 on the second, and 300 on the third. Oh, and if you ask where a class is and people tell you to go all the way downstairs, unless it’s a G classroom, their sending you the wrong way. That's the boiler room. All the art classes are on this side of the hall, all the sciences on the opposite..."

"It's huge!!" he exclaimed.

"It's actually one of the smaller schools around..."

"Not from the schools I've been to. I've seen a ton of schools and this tops them all in size, but probably not in academics, how sad. Tell me, what's the school's policy on bringing live animals into the building? See I have this snake and..."

"Um, the school doesn't allow live animals... not regulation or something like that," she replied quickly.

"You think I'm strange don't you?"

"What? Oh, no not all!" she cried, putting on a fake smile.

"Liar. Oh, here's my class, thanks, I think I can figure things out from here! Nice meeting you, Jazz."

"What'd you call me?" she asked, but he was already gone.

After the first week it was clear that Joey was the kid no wanted in their group, not even the other freaks could deal with him. Jasmine and her friends would always glare when he smiled their way or said hello in the halls, everyone did. Then the unthinkable happened to Jasmine, she got paired with him for an English project that would take a month. She had complained loudly to the teacher during the class, right in front of him, the whole class watching for some reaction. There was none, he merely sat, smiling his funny smile, and nodding to some invisible person to his right.

Jasmine cried as she remembered how cruel her words had been, and how Joey had not ever brought that against her. She grabbed a bunch of papers from the suitcase. It was their English project. That had been the first time she had ever enjoyed doing a project like this one, and it was all because of Joey...

"So, looks like we're a team now, Jazz," he had smiled after class.

"Looks like it, Joe," she had mumbled dejectedly.

"So, where should we work on it? Your house?"

"Um, my parents don't really like strangers all that much," she said.

"My place then, after school. I'll give you a ride if you don't have a car."

"Um, OK?" she said.

Jasmine went through the rest of the day dreading the last bell, while others wished for it. She did not hear the end of it from her friends, who made fun of her all day for having to go over his house.

"I bet he has body parts on his shelves," Missy had said.

"Yeah, or a coffin in his basement," Sarah laughed.

"Oh stop it guys! I don't want to have to think about that!" she had cried, disgusted.

The final bell rang shortly after. Her friends giggled.

"Good luck in the Twilight Zone!" they called as she walked up to Joey.

"Twilight Zone?" he asked.

"Nothing, nothing. So, where's you car?" she asked, looking around.

"You’re leaning against it," he said, pointing to the green Beetle she had rested her books on.

"You're kidding, right?" she asked. There was no way this geek could own a car that nice when she was stuck driving her mom's beat up station wagon.

"Nope! It was a gift from my dad. Hop in, let's go."
They drove through the busy streets of the city in silence, to an old Victorian house. It had been in disrepair, with peeling paint and dead grass that day. She remembered wondering how Joey's dad could afford a brand new Beetle, but not a paint job for his home.

"Dad wants to do the work himself, he's just been out of town lately," Joey had explained, getting out of the car.
Jasmine followed him silently into the dilapidated house and up the stairs into his room. It was a large room, no body parts, but trophies and cds on every shelf, with what looked like a fresh coat of scarlet paint. She looked around, surprised.

"Pretty nice room for a geek, huh?" he had asked, smiling, like it was joke.

"It's amazing! I wish I had a room like this."

"Yeah well..." he shrugged, "let's get working, huh?"

"Sure."

That day marked the beginning of their friendship, odd as it was. Everyday after school, Jasmine would meet Joey ay his car and go to his house to work. She fell in love with the old building, and with his mother, Grace. She was the nicest person she had ever met, much different form her mom, who never gave her the time of day unless she needed something; and Joey, she fell in love with Joey.

Then came that last day, the day the paper was due. Jasmine dreaded that day, dreaded what may come after it. Would he forget her? Would they just stop talking? English class that day was terrible, as Joey handed in their flawless paper on "Moby Dick". He smiled at her as he took his seat, then, nothing. A tear formed in the corner of her eye, but she brushed it away. The rest of the day had gone relatively well, until the final bell. At her locker, stood Joey—he was crying, but he forced a smile as she approached.

“Joey, what’s wrong?” she had asked.

“Jazz, I have to talk to you. Would you be able to come over for a little while? Not for long, but just a few minutes, at least.”

“Of course, Joey!”

They drove silently to Joey’s house, and Jasmine noticed it looked darker than she remembered it.

“Joey, where’s your dad? I haven’t met him yet, he always seems to be out of town.”

“He’s not coming back. He sent a letter a while ago and said he had fallen in love with a woman in France, that he couldn’t deal with the problems our family had and that he was never coming back.”

“Oh, Joey, I’m sorry. What about the house? Who’s going to paint it?” It had sounded stupid, but she couldn’t think of anything else to say.

“No one, I guess.”

“Forget that! I’ll paint it!”

“Very funny.”

“I’m serious, come on, we can do it together.”

“Jazz, hold on a sec. Before you keep talking, I have to confess something to you. Come on, we’ll go out back.”
Jasmine followed him to the willow tree and climbed up after him, sitting on the same strong branch. “OK. Jazz, I really like you, I know you’re probably revolted by that fact, but it’s the truth. I’ve liked you for a while now, and can’t stop thinking about you!”

“Joey...”

“I know, you’re disgusted, but I can’t lie to you and...”

“Joey, no. I feel the same way... and...well...”

“There’s more, Jazz. I knew that if you said that I had to tell you the rest. Jazz, I’m not healthy.”

“Huh?”

“I have AIDs, Jazz! I’m dying! I probably won’t last the year!” he blurted out, then stared at her, noting her reaction.

At first she had been surprised. Why was he telling her this? Then she realized, he trusted her, and truly cared about her. She smiled. “Did you think that would change the way I feel about you, Joey? ‘Cause it didn’t work. I still care about you, and won’t desert you for anything in the world, because you know what smarty, I love you.”

Joey looked amazed, Jazz was; she couldn’t believe she had just said that. Then Joey leaned toward her, and kissed her tenderly. “Thank you, Jazz. I love you, too. This is the best birthday present I ever could have received.”

“Well, happy birthday.”

From then on, the two had been inseparable. They began painting his house that weekend, and by the next weekend, it was finished. His mother had been so happy that Joey had found someone he could have fun with, but Jazz noticed that she often looked sadly on the couple. They soon knew everything about each other; he had even surprised her with a rose bush for her birthday the next month, a wish she had only confided in him.

Jasmine took out other objects from the suitcase, mostly pictures that they had taken over the next year they had together, from their graduation to the senior camping trip they had planned. In each picture, Joey became sicker and sicker. Jasmine’s gaze lingered on a photo that had been taken of the two at a New Year’s Eve party. It was a bad picture, both of them had red-eye pretty bad, and Joey had been wearing some weird jester’s hat. They had kept the picture because it had reminded them of the Nikelback song “Photograph”.

“Look at this photograph, every time I do it makes laugh. How did our eyes get so red and what the hell is on Joey’s head?” Jasmine sang to herself, looking at the happy faces in the picture. He was still smiling, even though he had been extremely sick at the time. In the picture, she was wearing a ring that he had given her—his class ring. He had given it to her that night. It had been a few days later that they had buried the suitcase...

“Jazz,” he had said one night.

“Yeah?”

“I’m not going to last much longer, Babe and...”

“Don’t say that!”

“It’s true! Listen. I have this suitcase; I like it because it has the initials of my name, and those of both of our first names. Now, I’ve always wished to reach my 40th birthday, but I know that’s not going to happen, unless a miracle happens. So I want to fill this thing up with memories, Babe, and bury it by our willow. Then, if I don’t live to see that birthday, I want you to dig it up for me and go through it and remember me. Remember me, Love, because I will always remember you.”

“Joey, I will never forget you, ever. I don’t need a suitcase full of stuff to remember all of all that we’ve been through. I love you, and always will.”

“Please, let’s do it, for me.”

“Fine, but only for you.”

That night they got together all the stuff that was important to them, from the calendar he had kept, to the paper they had written, to the pictures, and then he took her hand and took the ring he had given her off. She looked on in bewilderment as he placed it in a small, red silk bag and stuck it into the suitcase.

“Joey, why...”

“I don’t want the sight of it to keep you from living in happiness with someone else. I want that for you, Jazz, a happy life, a normal life, with kids and a family. So keep it in there, Jazz, until my 40th birthday. Promise me.”

“I promise, Joey.”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

Jasmine and Joey lived as normally as they could for another month, then, on his 20th birthday, Joey died. The funeral was huge, with a bunch of people attending both the memorial and the service. Jasmine couldn’t believe who showed up, from all the people in their senior class, to most of the town. It was where she met her husband, Ron; he had been the one to stand by her. Now, 20 years later, she was looking through their final memories, taking out the little red bag. With trembling fingers, she took the ring from it, and held it close, putting it on her hand. Then, she closed the worn out case and placed it on the passengers’ seat. With one last look at the old house that she and Joey had painted, she drove away, taking all those memories with her.

Epilogue
Jasmine Johansson-Theodore worked as a counselor to families and children suffering the effects of AIDs and HIV until the day she died. Joey’s story was told and gave insight to everyone she talked to, as well as courage and reassurance. Grace Johansson died shortly after Joey’s 40th birthday, leaving the old house and all the lands to Jasmine and her family, who moved in after the funeral. To this day, the rose bush still blooms every year, and has four or five more joining it under the willow tree, all different colors from the blood red that the original was. It stands as a sign of remembrance to all who see it and know Joey’s story.