In Memory (32 page)

“You have charged yourself with an impossible task. I know
,
he’s going to lose himself when you die. I will be consumed with him. May already told you what
will
happen.”

“She told me what’s going to happen to me. I’ve accepted it, but maybe there’s some way I can help you guys.”

“Do not be so arrogant as to assume that you can change other people’s destinies.”

B
it my lip, and then went to say something, when I sat up very abruptly in bed.

Noah was
sleeping soundly next to me. N
oticed the inky darkness of his hair spread across the pillow, and the soft ge
ntle noise of his breathing.
S
ighed, and flopped back into my warm spot, holding him close.

It’s the most comfortable way to sleep. I’m used to it now.

Most of today was spent in a similar manner as yesterday, except we got a visit from May.

She showed up around 2:30, carrying a large package from the local bakery. Terra let her in, smiling curiously.

“Oh you must be Noah’s sister!” she exclaimed, making both of us look round from our spot on th
e couch. W
onder if she realised it by their similarly freaky blue eyes.

Noah got up and hobbled towards the door, leaning on
Gran
pa’s
cane for support. “May… what are you doing here?”

“Happy Christmas, big brother!” May ran up to him, hugging him tightly.

Noah smiled, patting her head affectionately. “How did you know to come here, May?”

“You’ve told me about this place before. I thought that if you were anywhere, it was here.”

He smiled, and we all went back into the living room. Terra took an instant liking to May, grinning warmly at her as she sat beside Noah on the couch.

“So, May!” Terra leaned in, “How old are you?”

“Collectively, I have assumed my age to be about thirty-eight. But physically, I am seven years old.”

W
atched Terra’s face quickly change to one of pure confusion. It was hilarious. She didn’t have any warning about May whatsoever.

They ended up chatting about
jewellery
and cute
skirts and things like that. R
eally don’t think the age difference is affecting anything at all.

They really get along great. It sort of reminded me of the way her and Mum would get along.

It’s nice. Maybe they’ll still be friends after I’m gone.

W
ouldn’t be surprised.

So I wanted to talk to Noah about what Tobias said last night, but I really didn’t know how to initiate that as a topic. How would I go about that?

Something like: “Oh hey there, you’ve got a twin brother that possesses you sometimes. It’s
cool,
it explains why you have trouble remembering things and why you’re
labelled
as a freak to this whole town. No big deal.”

Yeahhhh
. I don’t think I’ll be able to talk about this to him ever.
Ugghh
.

62 Days, 27 December, Saturday

It snowed a lot more today. The bright white cloaking everything is beautiful. It made me think of the reason Noah wears so much white.

He must have realised that when the
snow falls
, it covers up any imperfections of the land. The perfect white is beautiful, pure.

So he wears white, his own personal snowfall, to cover up the years of destruction carved into his body. It makes sense.

Every
time I look at him, wearing his white sweater, I think of his body laid completely bare for me, allowing me to see every imperfection underneath his usual snowy layers.

Tomorrow we have to go to the clinic to get his bandages completely changed and some stitches removed. Up
til
now, he’s just been replacing them as necessary, in between showers.

I’m sort of apprehensive. Just because he let me see his body, all those scars and horrors, doesn’t mean he’ll be comfortable showing them to anyone else.

K
now he’s done it before, but now… it’s almost worse. He could show his scars before because he kne
w how they came to be there. H
ave a feeling he’s going to be more reluctant about these ones because he has no memory of them.

A thought just occurred to me. What if the reason behind this last attack was because of Tobias? What if he took over, and that’s the reason Noah doesn’t remember? He did say he was gaining more control lately.

Argh
! And
who
am I going to talk to about this? Maybe May will be around again tomorrow.

Wait, I just remembered. Noah has completely forgotten who his father even is. He can’t remember the significance of his father.

That’s part of his memory that’s been erased. Not just a blackout like when Tobias takes over. Something’s really wrong.

I’m worried.

61 Days, 28 December, Sunday

The hospital trip went about how I expected.

Noah wouldn’
t let anyone else touch him. G
uess
the
last time they changed has bandages and such
,
he was still pretty sedated
. Now that he’s conscious of the fact that he’s covered with wounds of foreign origin, he’s less inclined to let people see him.

Except me.
D
on’t think I’m up to replacing all those bandages myself
though
.

After a few minutes of coaxing on my part, he agreed to allow Terra to help me.

“Just don’t remember what you see.” He pointedly avoided our gazes, “When you take off these bandages, you can’t remember what you see.”

“Promise.” Terra and I said in unison.

Noah took off both his shirt and pants, a red blush working across his face. “Don’t remember.” He said again.

We unwrapped the bandages slowly; it was like unwrapping a gift we knew we didn’t want, a slow and maddening process.

For the most part, he was relatively healed, except for the wounds on his face. They were still raw and red, burning below his milky white eye.

D
id remember exactly how that looked.

Liar, faker, promise breaker.

We took out all his stitches, which took longer than I thought it should have. It was more difficult to get some of them out because they were over other scars. Scar tissue is tough.

H
ad to put another bandage over his eye, and I felt the cool blue of his gaze burning into me as I did so. He really has a sharp stare.

Once we were finished, all that remained were the rough edges of the healed cuts, and the bruises. He was silent for hours afterward. He’d nod or shake his head to answer questions, but was unresponsive until about nine-thirty this evening.

We were all sitting in the living room, listening to one of Terra’s new CD’s. I think she got about four for Christmas this year, from various friends.

“I’m sorry.” Noah said, as Terra was getting up to change it to the next CD.

She turned around, “Sorry for what, sailor?”

“I am sorry that I have been so difficult today.” He tightened his hands into fists on his lap, “It was not my intention to become such a burden on you.”

Terra smiled at him, kneeling down in front of him and taking his hands in her own, “It’s okay, sweetheart. I know how you must be feeling. I understand.”

Noah kept his eyes down, a
voiding either of our gazes. T
ouched his shoulder, and he looked me in the eye.

Simultaneously, Terra and I hugged him, and I could feel his anxiety just dissolve away.

“Thank you.” He murmured.

“You’re welcome, sailor.”

He’s found a port at last. Noah is home from the sea.

60 Days, 29 December, Monday

J
ust remembered
my list today. Remember it? H
aven’t really thought about it since last month. Let’s see where we are today.

1.
               
Make Noah smile for real.

2.
               
Begin a collection of something.

3.
               
Make snow angels on New Years Eve.

4.
               
Sew a
marvellous
dress for Terra for Christmas.

5.
               
Dance in the rain.

6.
               
Paint a picture.

7.
               
Learn to knit.

8.
               
Buy a lava lamp.

9.
               
Write something really interesting and profound, that people will remember. (Note: perfect words)

10.
            
Fall in love, even for a few seconds.

D
ecided to finish numbers two and six today. Noah seemed eager to help me; he’s decidedly more cheerful today than yesterday.

We decided I should start collecting heart-shaped things.
G
lass or plastic gems like the two we already share. We found three more around the house, a tiny red one, that I suspect was candy in a past life; a big blue one that Terra gave us, and an orange glass one that was in the big gift basket.

It’s kind of cool, actually. I’m collecting hearts.

When we got to work deciding on what to paint, Terra joined us, helping us get the paint and water ready. Since this was sort of a spontaneous thing, we were painting on paper, which Noah claims is a nicer surface for painting anyway.

I painted a really terrible picture of a field of flowers, that Noah said he liked, but I was convinced he was only humouring me.

Terra painted a picture of the
tea-kettle
.
The copper one.
It actually wasn’t too bad.

And Noah was the best at it, obviously, as he usually is, and painted a white rose. How he managed to paint something so colourless on white paper and still have it look amazing is beyond me.

W
atched his face as he worked, concentrating on his concentration. Extraordinary.

When we go back to school though, it just occurred to me, he won’t h
ave outpatient care anymore. T
hink that means he’s going back home.

He can’t go back home.

There has to be something I can do to make it so the police or someone can stop him from going back there. His father is too damn powerful, though. What if I can’t stop him?

Noah will go wherever he feels like less of a burden, and I know he thinks he’s causing us trouble here.

No matter how much I tell him otherwise.

Damn his stubbornness.

59 Days, 30 December, Tuesday

T
alked to Terra about where Noah would go once his outpatient care had finished, and she said that unless the police had a solid case against his father, then he would go back there.

“It’s really hard to have a good case against him without Noah’s testimony. But since he doesn’t remember, opposing counsel will tear him apart on the stand.”

There goes memory. Causing more problems for everyone.

Sometimes I wish every memory could be written for our perusal, even if we’ve forgotten it.

58 Days, 31 December, Wednesday

Tonight is the night the world begins again.

I’ve got a new policy. These last few days, I’ve been moping around, worrying about everything that’s going to happen.

Which makes me feel like a hypocrite, because I always state that I’m going to live for today, and to hell with tomorrow. It’s stupid to worry about tomorrow when it’s an unattainable thing. We never live in
tomorrow,
it only matters when it’s today.

Counting down all these days, it’s like reminding me how many
todays
I have left to experience. Not tomorrows.

So I cheered up. Moping around with worry today does nothing for tomorrow, and also wastes this day.

As soon as this occurred to me, I decided to make it my resolution. That’s the tradition. With each
new year
, we try to make ourselves or our lives better.

Another tradition we share at my house is to go outside and make snow angels. We can be angels. Noah is one, and I’m his guardian angel. It’s not so farfetched.