Remember Me?

My mom does it again. We're doing a little shopping on Commercial Street when we bump into what seems like an old friend of hers. They begin to catch up on all their news when she happens to glance towards me.

"Is that your daughter?" she exclaims.

"Yes," Mom gushes, "this is Shireen. You must have met her last when she was a baby."

"No no...I met her a couple months ago." She turns to me and asks the dreaded question, "Remember?"

Of course I don't. I stare at her blankly. Of course, my mom still hasn't introduced her to me so I still don't know her from Eve.

I start fidgeting uncomfortably and thankfully the conversation goes on with me out of it.The woman leaves and my mom and I continue down Comm Street and stop at a slipper store. While my mom checks out the slippers, I notice a man on a scooter beckoning me. He's yelling, "Aye, come 'ere." The sunlight glints off his spectacles so I don't know if he's calling me or the girls behind. I turn around but then he starts pointing at me and yelling a little more animatedly. He seems so excited that I feel that if I don't walk over to him, he'd get off his scooter and grab me and shake the living day lights out of me.

He does worse. He freakin' clutches at my cheek in a pincer grip and presses down even harder, all the while saying, "You know who I am? Huh?" And all I can think of is, "OUCH." Of course, my vision is blurring but the little tweeties I can see flying around me in circles seem clear enough.

Finally my mom saunters over and when she recognizes him, screeches, "Rajan!!! It's you!!! What are YOU doing here?"

He finally lets go of my cheek and turns his attention to her. "Your daughter does not remember me."

Nice opening statement. My mom looks at my, astonished. "What? You don't remember Rajan Uncle?"

"I....er..." I stammer, trying to look uncomfortable. It worked the last time. But not now.They're both staring at me, waiting for a reply.

My mom is looking impatient. "Don't you remember him? How could you not?"

I look at him. He obligingly removes his glasses and peers at me. Like that's going to help. Today is proof enough that my blank looks work.

"I'm Rajan Uncle," he says helpfully.

Yes, I think we established that. But Rajan Uncle from where and when and how would I know you?

"You used to punch my paunch when you were...this high," he says, making a big deal of leaning forwards and holding his hands knee high.

Ah. That explains it all.

Not.

I tap my feet impatiently as my mom and him chat about church politics and their respective parents, all the while willing myself to not rub my smarting cheeks. I have a feeling he might have drawn blood. I make all the usual signs of impatience: looking at my watch a few billion times; feigning interest in every passer-by; jiggling all the plastic bags I'm carrying... Finally I hear my mom saying her goodbyes. Before I could step out of the way, he leans over and pinches my arm. Hard.

"Next time, you better remember me," he says and starts his scooter.

"I'm sure I will." I think, rubbing my arm.

"Who was that?" I burst out, when we were out of earshot of him.

"He was the assistant pastor at our church in ... hmm....1987, I think."

Hmm...Let's see....1987 would mean that I would have been 6 years old at the time. And they expected me to remember him? OH MY GOSH!!!

"Why the hell didn't you just introduce him to me in the beginning instead of embarrassing me like that? You did the same thing with that woman we met earlier...." I continue to rant on for a few minutes.

My mom listens to the entire thing and just laughs it off. Which of course pisses me off no end. I know for sure that nothing has registered. I know for sure that there will be another time. But next time I'll come armed with some clever come-backs.

The next time someone says, "Do you remember me? I used to carry you as a baby!" I'm gonna say,"&^%$$#@" and walk off.

Anyone have any better answers???