Accessing the Future: A Disability-Themed Anthology of Speculative Fiction (15 page)

Irene looked at her expectantly. Sophie wondered what kind of response she was waiting for. The moment stretched uncomfortably. She finally nodded once, hoping this would be over soon. She was so tired. She hadn’t gotten more than a few hours of sleep at a time during the last six days.

Irene sighed, looking a little disappointed as she continued. “It’s best if you get rid of anything that will strongly remind you of the person. The brain is vulnerable, especially during the first few days while the drug works. Any big emotional reminders could cause the problem to pop back up again. Re-medicating is an option if that happens, but it can cause some nasty side effects. Better to get it right the first time!

“We recommend taking the first week off of work. Most people are tired and forgetful for three or four days. You may also have a few lingering emotional twinges, but don’t worry! They’ll be vague if they happen and shouldn’t be painful. If you get a headache or have any unusual mood swings, be sure to let your doctor know right away. Any questions?”

Sophie shook her head.

“Just print here then and you’ll be all set.” Irene held a portable scanner out to her. Sophie pressed her thumb to it. It beeped once and Irene tucked it away again. “I’ll go get this for you. Just come back over to the counter in ten minutes and it’ll be ready to go.”

Sophie followed her out from behind the flimsy privacy the screen had offered. The line at the counter had dissipated. Sophie walked past a few teenagers comparing the relative merits of different hair products and then back down the next aisle. She should have been at work today. It would have been just after her lunch break. There was going to be so much to do when she got back. She hoped the time off wouldn’t hurt her chances at the promotion. Her boss had hinted that he thought she might be ready to move up to the next level. She had been so pleased. Deanna had taken her out to celebrate just last week—a pre-promotion dinner. At the time, Sophie had been angry over the frivolous expense.

Her eyes stung fiercely. She bit her lip as her vision blurred. A half-swallowed sob popped out anyway. She clenched her hands, nails digging into her palms as she looked apprehensively around, hoping no one had been close enough to hear. Now wasn’t the time for stupid displays of emotion.

Scolding herself only made it worse. She ducked into the ladies’ room and locked herself in a stall. The toilet seat was scattered with a few drops of unidentifiable liquid. It didn’t have a lid. Sophie rolled out a wad of toilet paper and scrubbed at the seat, weeping and angry. When it was clean enough, she perched on the edge. As quickly as they had come, the tears were gone. She stayed for a few minutes, needing to be sure of herself before venturing out again. The tears didn’t return. She felt cheated.

Leaving the stall, Sophie checked her reflection in the mirror. An automated cleaner wheeled by, loaded with toilet paper and disinfectant spray. The cheap lighting buzzed almost inaudibly. Her eyes were red and her mouth pinched. She splashed lukewarm water on her face, smoothed her hair, and straightened her skirt.

When she returned to the pharmacy counter, Irene was waiting. Sophie took the crinkly white bag with a feeling of profound relief. She wanted to have control of herself again. No more not sleeping and unexpected crying. No more feeling like the rest of the world was running away without her.

Sophie pushed open the door to their apartment. It was tiny: one bedroom, a bathroom that could barely contain both the shower and toilet, and a joint kitchen/living area. It was a corner unit with windows on both sides overlooking the city. She loved the view. Deanna had wanted more space. She had won that argument by default. There hadn’t been any other units available in their price range.

Albert lumbered out of the bedroom as she was closing the front door. Deanna’s dog: a big, hairy, dirt-colored lump. He sat on Sophie’s feet and panted, his decidedly doggy breath wafting upwards. She pushed his head away in disgust and he thumped his tail twice in appreciation. They never communicated well.

Albert had come with Deanna, part of the deal when Sophie married her. They had argued about him more than once. Sophie wanted children. With a ninety pound dog eating up their meager resource allotment, they had never managed to scrape together enough for both. Her promotion was supposed to fix that.

Sophie rummaged through the dog drawer, Albert following in her wake like a furry mountain. She finally found a half-chewed bone underneath a box of stale dog treats and tossed it across the room. Albert bounded gleefully after it and out of her way. Sophie headed into the bedroom to change. She needed to get the packing over with as soon as possible—for her own sanity if nothing else.

Standing by their bed, Sophie skimmed off her jacket and blouse. Both were simply cut, black and new. She didn’t bother to hang them. They had been purchased for the funeral. She would get rid of them with the rest of Deanna’s clothes. The skirt was one of the ones she usually wore to the office. She stepped out of it. Grimacing at the string of dog drool decorating the fabric, she kicked it towards the laundry pile.

Finally dressed comfortably in her old sweats, Sophie sat on the couch with her mediapad in her lap. More than anything, she wanted a nap. She shook her head. The sooner she got this done, the sooner she would be able to actually rest. **Deanna’s Things** she typed at the top of the document. **Albert** The stupid dog had to go. She wasn’t really a pet person and the last thing she wanted was a reminder of the children they wouldn’t have. She stared blankly at the screen. What else qualified as important enough to trigger memories?

She set the pad aside and got up, collecting the pharmacy bag from the counter. She ripped it open and scanned the pamphlet that was tucked in beside the little orange bottle. It didn’t offer any clarification: just reiterated that things carrying strong, emotional memories should be disposed of prior to taking the proscribed dosage.

Sophie put the bottle back on the counter and pushed it out of Albert’s reach. Deanna had never made the effort to break him of surfing any reachable surface for goodies. She returned to the couch and picked up the pad again. **Clothes** She wasn’t sure they counted as memory triggering, but they needed to go anyway. **Pictures** were obvious. The coroner had disposed of Deanna’s wallet, phone, and cards on Sophie’s request. They had never done the paperwork to combine their accounts and Deanna’s were automatically closed when her death was confirmed. Her scant savings had been transferred to Sophie’s account as per her will. Death made easy.

Sophie looked around the room and wondered if she should move out. It was their first place together. If she closed her eyes she could almost believe Deanna was there sprawled on the couch watching a movie, sitting on the counter with her morning coffee, rolling on the floor wrestling with Albert, kissing her as they left for work. Sophie sat there feeling sick. She couldn’t leave. There was nowhere to go on such short notice.

Common sense reasserted itself after a few minutes. If Deanna’s parents were managing without moving, there was no reason she would have to. Her churning stomach settled a little. Maybe the warning was only meant for things attached to really extreme emotions. She looked down at her hands. The little diamond on her ring winked up at her. **Wedding rings** got added to the list. Deanna’s was probably still sitting on the dresser in the bedroom. She said it got in the way at work, that she had never liked wearing jewelry. They fought over that too.

Unable to sit still any longer, Sophie abandoned the list and brought an entire roll of garbage bags into the bedroom. Drawer by drawer, she pulled clothing out of the dresser and stacked it neatly on the bed. She separated the laundry into piles, then dumped all of Deanna’s into the washer. As an afterthought, she gathered up all of the bedding as well. She held it to her face, breathing deeply before shoving it into the washer. It smelled like Deanna. While she waited for the cycle to finish, Sophie called the first local charity listed and arranged for a pickup that evening.

Sophie’s mind drifted in defeated exhaustion as she folded and bagged clothes, wrapped mementos, piled up pictures and personal items for disposal. Several socks were missing their mates and she could only find one of Deanna’s running shoes. She wandered back out into the living room. She reached a hand down between the couch cushions and came up with three socks. A painful bubble of feeling burst in her chest. Deanna always kicked them off when she was napping on the sofa.

Sophie pulled the cushions off and tossed them on the floor. Albert looked up from his dog bed, observing solemnly as she searched every nook and cranny of the furniture for any further trace of her wife. Sophie didn’t think she would be able to stand it if the drug didn’t work the first time—especially if it failed because she had missed something simple.

The living area didn’t take long. Sophie had done the decorating when they moved in. Deanna’s bachelorette furniture hadn’t made the move with them. Sophie turned on the entertainment center and erased Deanna’s personal settings and saved shows. She couldn’t bring herself to read through the list before dumping it. The missing running shoe was buried lovingly among Albert’s toys. When she picked it up, he grabbed hold of the toe and tugged it back out of her hands. Not wanting to fight for it, Sophie detoured back to the kitchen and got a handful of dog treats. While Albert was busy with those, she retrieved the shoe and tossed it into the bag with its mate.

Three more circuits of the tiny apartment convinced her that it was clean. Sophie dragged all of the carefully packed bags out to the door. The sun was setting over the city. The dim, orange-red light bathed the room in shadows. Other than the cushions on the floor and Albert dozing with his dog toys, it looked like a showroom. Sophie shivered, wondering if this was what it would feel like tomorrow when she woke up without any emotional memory of Deanna. Sterile. Alone.

A knock on the door startled her. She pushed her way through the bags and opened it. She blinked dazedly at the man and woman standing there. Both wore lurid green t-shirts advertising the organization she had called earlier. The two volunteers exchanged a look before the woman stepped forward. “Pickup for ApparelAid?”

“Yes, of course. It’s all right here.” Sophie pointed to the obvious pile of bags. Out of habit, she grabbed Albert’s collar as he lumbered forward to greet the newcomers. He sat on her foot and looked reproachfully up at her. The aid workers wasted no time transferring the bags to the cart they had brought along.

“You need a receipt for this stuff?” the woman asked as her companion hauled the last bag out the door.

“No, thank you.” Sophie shook her head, still hanging onto Albert.

The door closed behind them and silence descended once again. Sophie let go of the stiff nylon collar and pulled her bare foot out from under Albert’s furry hip. It was time to eat. Three steps into the kitchen, Sophie turned around. Her stomach turned over at the idea of food.

Instead, she measured out Albert’s dinner and dumped it into his bowl. Deanna was in the habit of giving him an amount that ‘looked right’. When the vet told them the dog was overweight, Sophie had taken over feeding time to save resources. She left the dog inhaling his food, wondering one more time if there was anything left to do.

She flicked the light on as she walked back into the hollow-seeming living room. Deanna was gone. She checked the clock. In just seven hours, she had all but erased their life together. She sank down onto one of the couch cushions still scattered on the floor. How could it be that easy to make everything they had shared go away? Had three years of marriage really meant so little? She lay down, hiding her face in her arms. Only one thing left to do and then it wouldn’t matter what their time together had meant. Sophie closed her eyes.

Deanna was smiling at her, goofy and girlish as always. Sophie felt an answering smile spread across her face as she took Deanna’s hand and led her towards the waiting group. One by one, she introduced her to their friends and family as though Deanna didn’t know them. She shook hands and smiled. No one spoke. Sophie saw each vague, happy face clearly as they waited for their turn to be introduced. When they had seen everyone, Deanna turned to her with the same good-natured expression still on her face. She held out a hand to Sophie just as she had to all of the others.

Sophie woke with her heart racing. Curling up as tight as she could against the ache in her chest, she sobbed. Deanna hadn’t known her. It was just a stupid dream, but she hadn’t known Sophie at all.

Doggy breath assailed her as Albert’s cool, damp nose shoved its way into the crook of her arm. When he reached her face, he set about cleaning it from chin to forehead. Sophie sat up and put her arms around his furry neck, crying hard into his shoulder. Gradually, the tears dwindled. With a long sigh, Albert settled across her lap. Sophie scratched his ears, studying him for what felt like the first time.

Deanna’s dog. That was how she had always thought of him. Almost like a piece of furniture. A large, smelly, unwanted piece of furniture. He looked trustingly up at her with large, dark eyes peeking through tufts of brownish fur. She had forgotten about him. She didn’t know why she hadn’t thought of it before. The patch of hair on his shoulder was damp from where she had cried on him.

Sophie sighed. She hadn’t thought about it because he had been part of the background. If she was honest about it, she knew Deanna hadn’t been ready for kids. Albert had just been an easy excuse. He licked her chin as she sniffled back a new round of tears. With a rush of remorse, she wondered if she should try keeping him—for a little bit, at least.

Shoving him gently off of her legs, Sophie retrieved the bottle and a glass of water from the kitchen. The pair of tablets clattered against the orange plastic as she sat back down next to the dog. She put the bottle and glass on the coffee table and picked up her mediapad again. She deleted the list and leaned back against the sofa. The tablets looked black through the plastic.