One last kiss before goodbye

You have a visitor, Mr. Jolly. An old friend.

A friend? I have a friend?

Jolly! How are you?

Not so well I’m afraid. I apologize if I appear confused, but you recognize me and I do not quite remember you.

But please take no offense, I rarely remember anyone.

None taken. Is it very difficult for you, not remembering?

Tomorrow when I awake, I will not even remember that we spoke. This saddens me greatly. Can you understand such a thing?

Perhaps not. But our afflictions are very different. Mine’s remembering what I wish I did not.

To remember anything at all seems wonderful to me. I often try to imagine true love's first kiss or picture what it would be like to close my eyes and recall an island paradise or the beauty of snow peaked mountains. But when my eyes are shut, only emptiness stares back. I don't even know if my life was a good or bad one.

You envy me my memory, but some memories I would surrender anything to forget. My life was good once, even enviable. But those memories serve only to torment and remind me of all that I have lost.

I loved and was loved in return. How can I not daily wish for the vanquishing of all those experiences, both good and bad, now that love has abandoned me? I am trapped within the labyrinth of a happiness that will not return. No matter how many my turnings, I can never find my way back to wholeness again.

Long wakeful nights and daily exhaustion is all that I have to look forward to.

I'm sorry....

If only you could teach me to remember and I could teach you to forget.

I would like that.

Have you ever heard there are two rivers winding their way through Hell, one with the power to banish all memories collected in life whether good or bad and the other to restore every memory?

It does not seem too familiar.

Perhaps we should beg Hades to return to you that which you have lost and take away from me that which I wish to forget.

But we would have to die first.

Yes, dear one, we would have to die first. Is that such a bad thing if neither of us are happy?

You are crying. Are your memories so very painful?

Some are more painful than others.

I'm sorry to see you so. I have enjoyed talking with you though I fear it has only caused you pain. I like the sound of your voice. It feels … right somehow.

Why do you say that?

I don’t know.

Did I know you before I stopped … oh God … before this happened? But I don't wish to hurt you further. It pains me to see your tears.

Then maybe you can help me, even if only in this remembered moment.

If I can ... I would like that very much.

Can you pretend to be someone else … say, my former lover ... and kiss me like he used too? Tenderly. Lingering but not so long that I feel trapped in the embrace.

Could you do that for me, Jolly?

I don't even know if I have ever kissed before. I ... um … want to, but I'm afraid if I do it, it might ruin your moment.

Not to worry. Press your lips together like this, dear one, and close your eyes ... mmmm, yes, yes … like that.

That was nice. Did I do it right?

It was almost as good as I remember ... thank you…. But I fear it is time for me to go.

Will you come again? I … uh …would like that … if you did…. If it's not too much trouble, I mean….

Now you are crying.

I don't understand ... it feels like I should know you. My chest is tight with fear that I am letting you slip away again. Please don’t leave … not just yet.

Oh, Jolly….

Did I ... did we ... oh dear Jesus, what am I even trying to say?…

Am I very like him?

Yes, dear one, but you know I cannot stay. I will come again when I can.

Soon?

But you said you won’t even remember I was ever here.

I know ... I know. But the promise of your return matters in the present moment where I am forced to live. It’s a comfort even though I know it will soon pass me by.

Then I promise to come as soon as I can….

I don’t even know your name. I am sorry that I no longer remember it.

Janny.

Jolly and Janny? Almost like a match made in heaven.

Almost….

One last kiss before goodbye, Jolly … like old times?

...

The pleasure of remembering had been taken from me, because there was no longer anyone to remember with. – Kazuo Ishiguro