Forgetfulness

I'm reading Kasuo Ishiguro's book, "The Buried Giant" (even during times of high stress and obligation, I can't not read. It's an addiction).

The book is set in medieval England/Wales - after the death of King Arthur. The story focuses on an aging couple, Axl and Beatrice, and the journey they take to visit their son in a distant village. The story has all the hallmarks of a fairy tale: with pixies, ogres, wicked monks, and an old knight from Arthur's time, Sir Gawain, whose task to slay a dragon has been procrastinated for decades.

The primary feature of the story is a "mist of forgetfulness", caused by the dragon's breath, which causes people in the land to lose their own histories. The love Axl and Beatrice bear for one another is real, but they have no specific memories of their time together. Longing for these memories, they look to kill the dragon.

There is a mercy in forgetfulness. When we forget the evil we've done to other people and the evil they've done to us, there is some measure of peace. But then there is the forgetting of love, as well. I still recoil at the memory of Sjors' face in that train station. There was no recollection of love in his expression. "I don't love you," he'd said. Had he truly forgotten how dear I was to him? Was such a thing possible? I felt the agnosia and it hurt more than anything MIVD could do to me afterwards.

Its a strange thing that I haven't forgotten him - when I've forgotten so much else. Sometimes, I suddenly remember the way his fingers were - long with blocky knuckles. I remember the intake of breath. I sometimes catch a scent in the wind and am reminded of his smell. I remember the way he looked at me so directly when he spoke, or laughed out loud so I could see all his teeth. It is precisely this keen remembering of him that prevents me from finding a different life with someone else. I haven't forgotten how dear he is to me and I know that, if I were to agree to settle in with another man, I would leave it all behind if Sjors came near. Time has mercifully obscured the acute sensation of betrayal and anger and sorrow when MIVD took my work from me. But the love I feel for Sjors has not flickered out.

I met up this evening with Shelly and with Eric for dinner, then Eric and I went to a movie. It was the first time I've seen Eric since we decided to stop dating. It was Eric's choice to stop - and not a bad one. He knew I still loved Sjors and didn't want to beg for me to love him. So he stayed distant, never really bonded with me - and I never bonded romantically with him although I thin he's a lovely man and I'm glad we're able to be friends.

It seems a stupid thing to continue loving Sjors at the cost of any small happiness I could have in this life when, in all likelihood, he's relegated me to some loathed part of his brain. Whatever I was to him - I am not that anymore. The man who loved me doesn't exist.

I think the problem is: I trusted his love for me even more than I trusted myself. I still have faith in him. I still have faith in his promises. I still have faith in his love for me. Even when the facts tell me my faith should have died long ago. Faith and hope are dangerous things. I think about Sjors' words in the video he made for me: "I know I can't have any expectation...but I can have hope."