Free The Ignored by Bentley Little - (ebook by Undead) Page A

and I was left to my own
devices.
    It was on one such Saturday that I found myself in Brea Mall, checking
out Music Plus, buying tapes I didn’t really want because I had nothing else to
do. I’d just stopped by Hickory Farms for some free samples when I saw Craig
Miller coming out of an electronics store. I felt a sudden lift in my spirits. I
hadn’t seen Craig since before graduation, and I hurried toward him, smiling and
waving as I approached.
    He obviously didn’t see me and continued walking straight ahead.
    “Craig!” I called.
    He stopped, frowned, and looked over at me. The expression on his face
was blank for a second, as if he didn’t recognize me, then he returned my smile.
“Hey,” he said. “Long time no see.” He held out his hand and we shook, though
that seemed like kind of a weird and formal thing to do.
    “So what are you doing now?” I asked.
    “Still going to school. I’m going for my master’s in poly sci.”
    I grinned. “Still hanging out at the Erogenous Zone?”
    He reddened. That was a surprise. I’d never seen Craig embarrassed by
anything. “You saw me there?”
    “You took me there, remember?”
    “Oh, yeah.”
    There was a moment of silence, and it was awkward because I didn’t know
what to say and it was obvious Craig didn’t either. Strange. Craig was a natural
motor-mouth and had never been one to let silences remain unfilled. As long as
I’d known him, he’d never been without a comment or a reply. He’d always had
something to say.
    “Well,” he said, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “I
better get going. I’m supposed to be home now. Jenny’ll kill me if I’m late.”
    “How is Jenny?” I asked.
    “Oh, fine, fine.”
    He nodded. I nodded. He looked at his watch. “Well, hey, I’d better be
going. Nice seeing you again, uh—” He looked at me, caught, instantly aware of
his mistake.
    I met his eyes and I knew.
    He didn’t recognize me.
    He didn’t know who I was.
    I felt as though I’d been slapped in the face. I felt like I’d been… betrayed. I watched him trying to come up with my name.
    “Bob,” I prompted.
    “Yeah, Bob. I’m sorry. I just forgot for a second.” He shook his head,
tried to laugh it off. “Alzheimer’s.”
    I merely looked at him. Forgot? We’d hung out together for two years. He
was the closest thing to a friend I’d had at UC Brea. I hadn’t seen him in a
couple of months, but you didn’t completely forget the name of a buddy in less
than half a year.
    I understood now why he’d been so awkward and formal with me. He hadn’t
known who I was and had been trying to bluff his way through the conversation.
    I thought he’d try to make up for it now. He knew me. He remembered me.
I figured he’d loosen up a little, stop acting so stiff and distant, start a
real conversation, a personal conversation. But he looked again at his watch,
said, “Sorry, I really do have to go. Good to see you.” Then he was off, giving
me a quick impersonal wave, heading briskly through the crowd, away from me.
    I watched him disappear, still stunned. What the hell had happened here?
I looked to my left. On the bank of televisions in the window of the electronics
store I saw a familiar beer commercial. A group of college chums was getting
together with beer and potato chips to watch a Sunday afternoon football game.
The young men were all good-looking and good-natured, comfortable enough with
themselves and each other to pat one another’s shoulders and slap one another’s
backs.
    My college life had not been like that.
    The scene of the men laughing as they sat around the television faded
into a close-up of an overflowing glass of beer, overlaid with the beer
company’s logo.
    I had not had a group of friends in college, a gang with whom I hung
out. I had not had any real friends at all. I’d had Craig and Jane, and that had
been it. My Sunday afternoons had been spent not with a group of pals, watching