Regeneration X (30 page)

I was happy for him, and passed along as much useful information as I could—as a friend and fellow fulfillment explorer. Ever since that day, the one at Boar’s Head, we hadn’t so much as mentioned our too-short relationship. We were never alone and it appeared, for all intents, as if
we
never happened. I was fine with it, although I still found him attractive and a small part of me wished it hadn’t ended. And now if Parker did transfer, I wouldn’t be seeing much of him; this fact made me sadder still.

For the rest of the crew, I planned to keep up with our gatherings at least once a week since I was truly fond of Sima, Annabelle and Robert. If I had a choice in the matter I could do without Mel and Alex’s company altogether. When I was in their classes, we had enough in common to be friendly, otherwise what was there to talk about? Anytime it was just Mel and me, her topics seemed eventually to veer toward Parker, and Alex was a bit too touchy-feely, besides being a bit of a dolt.

September 23, 2026

Two days ago was my birthday and I had two celebrations. Annabelle and Sima arranged and hosted a bash at their apartment. I was surprised at how many people I had actually come to know. I also had a spectacular dinner out with Inez on the night of my actual birthday.

Michael, Becks, my family and random friends from back home called me, and I spent the better part of a few days catching up. Michael sent me a gift of a new leather-bound journal filled with hand-milled paper, along with a fountain pen! Now that all the distractions are gone, I’m starting to miss him again. It’s not fair, I know. It’s rotten of me to miss him most when everything is just settling down. He’s always on my mind, though.

I know this might sound materialistic, but his gift made me miss him more. They were obviously expensive gifts, but more than this, I was touched by his thoughtfulness for having sent them to arrive just in time. And as far as gifts go, they are very appropriately me. This takes a special person to know.

You would think birthdays when you’re older would be a bigger deal than when you’re young, because I don’t remember birthdays past 35 being all that important. Some years it was just a couple of brief calls and birthday wishes. Maybe it’s just another reason for us kids to party.

Even Dr. Baum wished me a happy birthday at our last session. I’m not sure how long I’m going to keep that up, now that I think about it. I don’t need the therapy any more. His objectiveness was an unquestionable help when I was going through all the uncertainty. Besides, we only meet every couple of months now; still it’s a kind of habit to keep him posted of my progress.

Speaking of Dr. Baum and Michael, it seems Michael has continued with therapy, too. It keeps him focused so he doesn’t slide back into a general coast through life.

Chapter Twenty-seven

In all the progress

Both of my life and office, I have labour’d,

And with no little study, that my teaching

And the strong course of my authority

Might go one way, and safely; and the end

Was ever, to do well.

—William Shakespeare,
King Henry VIII (5.3)

・
・
・

“THIS PASSETH YEER BY YEER AND DAY by day, Till it fil ones, in a morwe of May,” I begin to recite, feeling warm from nervousness and trying to intone properly the section of the
Knight’s Tale
from
Canterbury Tales
that I had chosen.

“That Emelye, that firer was to sene

Than is the lylie upon his stalke grene,

And fressher than the Mye with floures newe–

For with the rose colour stroof hire hewe,

I noot which was the fyner of hem two– …”

I recited the entire scene, concluded and took my seat. My classmates clapped generously and I felt a minor flush return to my cheeks once again. The two semesters of drama classes have helped me overcome some more serious apprehensions I had about speaking in front of a crowd and also getting into the mind of my character. In this case, Emily, as she rises early one morning to pay homage to the month of May. Additionally, my brief performance was stoked by my enthusiasm of the material we cover in class. It finally felt right. I believed I found my focus and my future. I was able to see now how Michael could have become so entranced with the intricacies of his field so he could devote his life’s career to it.

I’ve been spending my days writing papers and studying texts, searching for clues in language that expresses the writer’s intent, and I enjoyed it immensely. There were moments, however, when I struggled with concepts I should have known—things I failed to fully grasp or plainly forgotten somewhere along the way.

For example, I believe a secondary language will be required for an academic career in literature, so next term I intend to enroll in a French course, although I prefer English literature. I hope my immersion of the culture will come back to me when I begin French. From what I gather, the rationale is, a second language allows for closer examination and comprehension of translated texts. I am glad only one secondary language is required since I sincerely doubt I can learn the several useful languages in literature, i.e., Latin, Greek, Italian, and/or Russian, in addition to French.

I understand that language study opens the mind to alternate interpretations since meaning is often relative to its social influence and use. However, I hope I am not at a disadvantage being my mind is well past the impressionable years of easier learning, as I found during the short time I’ve spent in the Performing Arts College. I have made several mistakes in assuming regeneration to a younger age would allow me to start with a clean slate. Each time, the assumption stems from a blatant disregard for the nervous system, which was not regenerated. In other words, although the mind is an incredible machine, there is only so much it can do at a mental age of 56. It might take me a while longer to learn since it’s been over a year and a half since my CR, and I am still only remedially speaking, thinking, acting like the teenager I’m supposed to be. I try to block out the self-doubt fiend subliminally interjecting every so often. Learning something entirely new is a challenge I cannot overcome.

This self-consciousness rearing its unwelcome head is something ingrained in the recesses of my mind. I was once concerned about having an unfair advantage over my peers. Now I fear being set back because of my mental age. When I look around and see all the measures other students take to excel in their field above their peers, I’m reminded there is nothing wrong with striving for success. It doesn’t make me resent them. Jess, a new study-buddy, has a memory implant, which allows her to store short-term memories into her long-term memory
database
on demand.

Jess described her process and it is quite interesting. Just after she’s memorized something, she closes her eyes and visualizes an image of something that doesn’t change, such as a solid green circle. This was key—the image has to be something unaffected by change in shape or uninfluenced by its surroundings, unalterable in any way. Later if she no longer needs something stored in long-term because she happens to recall the memory, all she has to do is visualize a solid red circle. This removes the memory from long-term storage and moves it over to short-term recall, and eventually this memory will be forgotten. I know of another student who has had a similar add-on installed. His implant allows him to take mental pictures, which he can zoom in and out of at will—the modern version of a photographic memory for those of us not naturally equipped with the gift.

Both of these would be very helpful to me, too, especially since I have so many long-term memories in place, and so many more are disappearing that I’d like to hold onto for a little longer. However, I can’t get past the reservations I have with the unnatural aspects of biotech. I draw the line at foreign parts such as microchips and robotic elements infused in my body. Also, I’m sure each cyborg innovation has its challenges. It seems a precarious thing to do; imbed some microchips to manage memory. I imagine I’m at a red light and I blink, what if the residual image of the traffic light were to erase what I’d been thinking? Of course, the implant developers have probably accounted for errors such as this. Still, isn’t it scary how many memories can be erased by accidentally visualizing red dots. How frustrating it would be to invoke red when you meant to imagine green?

October 18, 2026

Becks came to town and Inez and I were both surprised to learn she has been dating someone; this much she told us. For the time being, she is secreting the identity of her beau. Either she is embarrassed or it’s her way of maintaining a non-committal attitude. We couldn’t really tell from her comment, “It might not work out anyway.”

I know how it is—me with my one experience with the opposite sex after 17 years of marital monogamy. I still have a hard time believing there can be anyone but Michael. I’m 56 for Christ’s sake. Dating an under-twenty-five year old is still barely moral in my book. I wonder how all the moms of the boys I date are going to feel if, or when, they find out.

Apart from this mind-bender, I am coming into my own. For the first time since my regeneration, I feel comfortable in my own head and skin. And, dear diary, for flicker of a moment there was a man for me too—butterflies and everything. His name is Adam, a grad student in my college! I based my emotions on a few profound conversations I had with him on literary topics. He probably thinks I’m just some smarty teenager.

But of course, nothing can ever go smoothly one person at a time. Last week I ran into Parker, walking down the corridor of my college looking for me. We were just standing in a doorway talking about his new program and mid-sentence he leans down and kisses me with an ever-enticingly. He said, “Is this okay?” I don’t know if he was asking my permission after the fact or asking me if we could resume where we left off. So, I reminded him I was still married to Michael. But since he already knows the understanding Michael and I have. I guess he can overlook the fact now.

This would all be so easy if the kiss and Parker didn’t affect me.

And today, is Sweetest Day. I wasn’t expecting any romantic gesture from Parker. Firstly, since we’ve only been out one time since getting ‘back together’ and second because this ‘holiday’ is strictly a US marketing gimmick. Regardless, he showed up with a small bouquet of beautiful white and fuchsia peonies. How some men (who are not gay) just know women is a question I’d like to ask God, if I ever have the opportunity to discuss gender differences with him.

When I asked Parker why peonies and not roses, carnations or some other bright red, highly pandered-as-romantic flower, he said, “Peonies seemed more you—natural, feminine and unpretentious.” It’s rather early for me to be professing love or even lesser endearments, but I’ll say this much, I very much appreciate whoever or whatever was responsible for Parker’s upbringing.

“I have to ask, why did you and Mel break up?” I questioned Parker pointedly.

“Bloody hell, Mel is a crazy woman. At first it was just fun. I was attracted to her talent, I guess. I don’t know what happened, but all of a sudden, she became possessive. I was suffocating. She literally latched on to me with her shellacked nails every time we were out in public, as if I would disappear under her nose. She wanted to make sure she left her mark.”

“Was this the only reason?”

“I didn’t need another reason, even though I had one,” Parker replied smiling down at me, not so mysteriously. “We had broken up, but the clincher was one day she showed up at my place, completely bladdered. She tried to sell herself to me with sex. It wasn’t easy to forego her offer, but I think she thought a shag would fix everything. She’d have her hooks in me again. Anyway, it didn’t go over. She’s been stalking me ever since. This is why I don’t hang out with the collective anymore. I had to block her calls and remove her from my social network.”

“So you know, Mel approached me several times as if somehow I could do something about it. She wanted me to understand it was best for everyone if I stayed married,” I said. “I still see her, but even before, I wish I didn’t have to. I can’t get past her artificiality and wiles. Ironically, she does a better job of acting a fake scene than she does reality.”

“Yes. It became obvious to me soon after we started dating and I saw her outside modules and the pub.”

“So, am I the other reason? And you’re fine I’m married still?”

“Well, I’d prefer you weren’t, but it has been a while, hasn’t it? It still hangs over us, but not as much. Mel was right. I wasn’t over you completely.”

“And you don’t care that I’m mentally in my 50s and have had much more experience in everything than you? I don’t want to catch you by surprise again and hurt you.”

“I am fine, so long as I have all the facts now. Ashton Kutcher and I are mental mates. I like ‘em smart and good-looking,” he said. “Do you think we could resume where we left off?”

“What do mean? Aren’t we already dating?” I said feigning innocence, but still feeling uncomfortable about being married and all.

“Our last conversation, we were talking about getting closer, and nothing has changed for me. And now I am especially interested in your
yeeaars
of experience.”

“Maybe … It will come to that naturally, the next time we get drunk,” I said smiling.

“In that case, I propose a bender. I don’t see why we couldn’t ditch classes and go for a pint or three for me and a thimble or two of something for you.”

“Ah, boys will be boys. The day will come, don’t you worry.”

While Parker seems to have adjusted back, my own mind was not at ease. I was disturbed Michael and I still hadn’t come to a resolution. We are doing what we always did, even when were in each other’s presence, focusing our attentions on anything
but
each other and
us
. Therefore, I would need push a few buttons.

My life now is so vastly different from before, definitely not stagnant; if it’s not one thing it’s another. My intent was to sort out a career, which would carry me happily into the future, but the distractions were many. Unfortunately, before I could get around to sorting out my multiple commitments, the inevitable happened. Roughly two weeks after Parker and I started dating again, Mel somehow discovered this fact. He had not been joining us during our gatherings, so it wasn’t as if she had seen us together, at least not at the Swan with the rest of the crew.