Remember (6 page)

“For almost three hours?”

“What’s your point?” I took another sip of my latte, but it was cold and bitter.

“You stumbled at the mall. Are you having vision problems?”

It took a beat, but then I realized what he was hinting at. I swallowed and it went down the wrong way and I coughed. “What?”

Neil leaned forward. “Are you having memory problems? Trouble sleeping?”

“Now you think I’m developing Alzheimer’s? Well, that’s just great. I suppose, on the upside, I might forget this meeting ever happened.” I sat back, wanting to put some space between us.

“Are you having any odd symptoms? I’m being serious.” He leaned even closer.

“So am I. Thank you for your concern.” My mind flashed to the sound of the woman I’d heard in the mall, and I pushed away the thought. I looked down at the time on my phone. “I gave you more than your five minutes. I listened to what you had to say, and I still disagree.” I shoved back from the table. I wanted to bolt out of the café.

“Wait!” Neil scribbled something down on a piece of paper and tucked it into my open bag. “It’s my name and phone number. In case you change your mind. Or if you need anything.”

I walked out of the cafe without saying anything.

chapter ten

O
ur house had a media room. That wasn’t unusual, at least not in our neighborhood, but nothing my dad did was halfway. Our media room could have belonged to a Hollywood movie mogul. It had three rows of red leather theater seats, giant La-Z-Boy chairs that fully reclined, with armrests that flipped open to reveal cup holders. There were vintage movie posters on the walls. Originals. My mom had used a decorator to hunt them down. Heaven forbid anyone discover that we had a mere reproduction of the
Maltese Falcon
poster hanging on our wall.

There was even one of those rolling metal popcorn carts parked at the back of the room. I couldn’t remember us ever using it. We weren’t big popcorn-cooked-in-a-vat-of-oil people. We weren’t big movie people either, but having a media room
was one more thing my dad could have that demonstrated his success. It wasn’t always clear to me what was more important to my dad: that he do well, or that everyone know just how well he was doing. My mom said it had to do with him having grown up poor. It wasn’t that I didn’t like having nice things, but I wished we didn’t have to tell everyone exactly how much each of our nice things cost. Once, we were at dinner and the waitress told my dad she liked his watch. “Can you believe it cost over twenty thousand bucks?” he asked her, rolling up his sleeve so she could see it better. I wanted to crawl under the table. It was likely more than she earned in a year. Couldn’t the guy just have said thanks?

I sat in the dark in the media room staring at the screen. I didn’t have the sound on. I’d seen this movie hundreds of times. I didn’t need the soundtrack to be able to quote entire sections. I let the black-and-white images wash over me. I kept pushing away the thoughts of the discussion I’d had with Neil, but the thoughts were like some kind of annoying poltergeist. They kept popping up, surprising me. What if something was really wrong with me?

“Can’t sleep?”

I jumped. My dad stood in the doorway. He had on the old sweats he slept in and one of his
Star Trek
T-shirts. He chuckled. “It would be a shame if you developed my insomnia.”

My dad had weird sleep habits. He would sometimes be up for a couple of days in a row and then the next day he would sleep for an entire day until dinner. The concept of day and
night was more fluid in his world. He raised a good point; maybe my sleep problems didn’t mean something was wrong with me the way Neil implied. My poor sleep could be nothing more than a bad roll of the genetic dice—sort of like my huge flipper feet, which also came from my dad’s side.

“Woke up and then couldn’t get back to sleep,” I explained. I didn’t mention the part where I was now worried there was something fundamentally wrong with my brain.

“This movie should help put you to sleep.”

“Ha-ha.” The movie was an old one,
To Kill a Mockingbird
. When I was little, I came home crying one day because someone had made fun of my name. My dad told me that I’d been named after Harper Lee. She wrote the book the movie was based on, and my mom had been reading it when she was pregnant with me. She didn’t love the book, but she liked the name. I liked the book and I loved the movie, even if it was in black and white. I knew it had been made way before I was even born, but it still felt special, like it was something just for me.

“This movie would be better with aliens. Or if they blew something up. Heck, a good sword battle would do the trick too,” Dad suggested. This was his criteria for any good movie. Mayhem with a touch of gore.

“I’m sure if they ever do a remake they’ll consider some zombies.”

We sat in the dark watching the screen “I was talking to your mom,” he said.

“Uh-oh,” I said.

“Nah, it’s good stuff. We decided you should go ahead and get a new horse. Your mom called Laura; she’ll help you sort out which is the best one.”

My mouth fell open. “Really?”

“Yeah. We were going to wait to tell you for graduation, but you know how I am with keeping secrets.”

I squealed and jumped up to give him a hug. “Thank you so much.”

He patted my back. “You know I want you to be happy. Why you like the darn things is a mystery to me. They’re like big giant stinky dogs, only they don’t even fetch.”

My mind raced, thinking through my options. “I’d love to get another Hanoverian, but Friesians are great too.”

“Keep in mind, there will be a budget. We had insurance on Harry, but you still can’t buy some Kentucky Derby winner.”

I shook my head. He never bothered to get it. “Dad, how many times do I have to tell you? Horses that make great racers don’t make great jumpers.” It was a miracle he’d gotten me Harry in the first place. Most kids get a pony, not an elite jumper horse to start.

“Please, don’t give me another lecture on horses. I’ll buy you two, if you promise not to bore me with one of those.” He hugged me again. “I’m glad to see you smiling. I told you that you didn’t need the treatment.”

I felt another stab of guilt.

“You always were my ray of sunshine. Don’t tell anyone, but you’re my favorite kid.”

I rolled my eyes at this old joke. “I’m your only kid.”

“That makes it easier to choose. Less competition.”

* * *

I set a new world record for losing popularity points. I went from my dad’s favorite child to his least favorite person on the entire planet in less than twenty-four hours. After school I went directly to the barn to talk to Laura. She’d already bookmarked some pages with horses for sale for my consideration. We spent a couple of hours talking about different options, and I started to get excited about having a horse of my own again. Laura was happy to let me use her horse, Dallas, but it wasn’t the same. I missed Harry, but I wanted to ride again. I felt more like myself when I rode. It sometimes felt that if I could only find the trail that led back to my life before Harry died, then everything would work out.

I walked in the house for dinner with a bunch of printouts about the different horses, but as soon as I saw my parents, I knew showing them would be a bad plan. My mom stood in a corner of the kitchen, twisting a towel in her hand, and my dad paced back and forth in front of the granite island. I could see the vein in his forehead throbbing. He had that look that screamed,
Now is not the time to ask me to buy you an expensive horse.
I started to turn around to head up to my room when he spotted me.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

I didn’t get in trouble often. Growing up I wasn’t prone to meltdowns, and I didn’t push other kids down on the playground. I didn’t sneak out of the house or steal money from my mom’s purse. I’m not saying I’m perfect; there was the time Win and I drank my parents’ Malibu rum when we were supposed to be babysitting her younger brother. That didn’t end well for a whole number of reasons, not the least being that the smell of coconut now made me want to throw up. I couldn’t even use most suntan lotions. I’d never be able to live in Hawaii. Based on my parents’ expressions, this was going to make the Malibu rum incident look good.

“Anything you want to tell me?” Dad tapped his foot on the floor. “Or should I call you Emily Ludka?”

Uh-oh.
It felt as if my body had suddenly fallen through the ice into a frozen lake, cold and painful. “I can explain.”

“Really? I can’t wait to hear this.” Before I could open my mouth to give it a shot, he cut me off. “Do you realize what you did is insurance fraud? If I hadn’t been the one in the billing office when the question came in, if I hadn’t been the one to check with Josh about what happened, we could have taken this to the cops to investigate. How would you like to be having this discussion at the police station?” My dad’s nostrils flared in and out, and his entire face was turning red.

I felt like kicking myself for being stupid. I should have realized that there would be a claim. Emily Ludka’s family must have prearranged payment through her insurance company.
When she didn’t show up, but I still had the procedure, the bill went through.

“How did you know it was me?” I asked.

“When we realized there was fraud, the security guard pulled video from the clinic. If he hadn’t shown it to me first, it would have gone to the police.” My dad’s jaw thrust forward. He looked like he wanted to throw a punch.

“Harper, separate from the insurance, the point is that you had a medical procedure without our consent,” Mom said.

“I know.” My voice came out small and squeaky.

“Can you imagine if this had come out publicly? You made a liar out of me, too. I told the insurance company that it was a billing error to cover up what you did. They’ll now be reviewing the past three months of invoices to make sure that was the only one. You’ve caused a lot of headaches for a lot of people, young lady.” Dad put his hands on his hips.

“I’ll pay for the procedure,” I offered. “And I’ll volunteer in the office if you want. I can make copies, or do data entry, or help with the billing.” I scrambled to think of some way I could make it up to my dad.

“I think you’ve done plenty to ruin my company without messing around with the billing department.” He noticed the papers in my hand. “Oh, and in case it wasn’t clear, you can forget about getting a horse. And you’re grounded.” He searched for something else he could do to me. “And you’ll be spending your weekend cleaning the bathrooms.
And
the garage.”

I took a deep breath. “I know what I did was wrong. And I’m not arguing about my punishment—”

“I should hope not,” Dad barked. His hand slapped down on the stainless steel Viking range, making me flinch.

“I’m trying to explain why I did it. I tried telling you how I felt after Harry died.”

“You did this over a stupid horse?”

My dad’s words felt like a slap. I stood up straighter. “Yes. I did it because of Harry. I loved him.”

My dad opened his mouth to say something else, but my mom put her hand on his shoulder, and his teeth slammed shut with a click.

“I understand why you did this, but that doesn’t make it okay.” Mom’s voice was even. She had a tendency to get calmer the more upset my dad got. “There’s the issue that you disobeyed our express wishes. You knew we were against this. There’s the fact that by going forward with the procedure, you caused trouble for your dad’s business, but that’s not all. You asked Josh to help you. You made him a part of your lie.”

“He can kiss his internship good-bye,” Dad added.

My stomach went into a free fall. Dad being mad at me was bad, but Josh losing his internship was a whole new level of bad. Even though I didn’t like that Josh worked there, he needed that job. If he lost it, he wouldn’t be able to pay for college. “Dad, you can’t do that. It’s not Josh’s fault. It’s mine. I asked him to do it for me.” It might have originally been his
idea, but I was the one who pushed him. I couldn’t let my dad ruin his life.

“I don’t care whose idea this was; the point is what he did wasn’t right.”

“I know, but he believes so much in the procedure, in everything you guys do at Neurotech. He only did this because he knew it would make me better. He really thought he was helping.”

The idea of Josh being a fan of Neurotech seemed to calm my dad down a notch.

“The internship is everything for Josh. Please don’t take it away from him.” I could hear the pleading in my voice.

Dad shrugged, giving nothing away.

“I will do anything you want to make this up to you,” I vowed.

Dad sighed. “You’ll start by going to the doctor tomorrow. I want a full medical workup done on you to make sure everything’s okay.”

“Are you feeling all right?” Mom’s face was wrinkled up in concern.

“I’m fine,” I lied. Now wasn’t the time to tell them I was having problems.

It wasn’t until I went upstairs to my room that I realized both of my parents were worried about me having side effects. The side effects that they’d told me didn’t exist.

chapter eleven

T
here weren’t many places in a Catholic school where you could be alone with your boyfriend. They were afraid you’d start making out like mad. I suspected public schools weren’t keen on public displays of affection either, but Saint Francis saw it as nearly a hanging offense if they caught you holding hands with a guy. Ms. O’Neil, our gym teacher, was always talking about how our bodies were temples of the Holy Spirit and that we should leave room for Jesus between whomever we were dating and ourselves. Win once said she thought it was creepy that Jesus wanted to watch. She got detention for that. Our school wasn’t real “turn the other cheek” about snide comments about the Lord. Even from nonbelievers who paid the full rate for tuition.

Our school’s ban on ever being alone with the opposite sex
was why Josh and I were hiding out in the library. If you went to the far back corner, there was a resource section, just in case the Internet ever died and people needed to consult a 1990s version of the encyclopedia in order to survive. We were sitting on the floor with our backs against the wall. The school might have been worried that we’d make out, but I never felt less like kissing someone than I did at that moment. I could also tell that despite the fact that he didn’t want to be, Josh was ticked at me.

“I feel so bad,” I said for the millionth time that day. It had become my own personal mantra.

“Don’t. It’s my own fault. You didn’t make me do anything I didn’t want to. It was my idea in the first place.” He squeezed my hand. He didn’t even mention how he’d tried to talk me out of the plan, but that fact hung between the two of us. It was another thing that tied me to him. He’d risked everything for me.

“My dad won’t cancel your internship.” I wasn’t sure if I was trying to convince him or myself.

“I don’t think he will either, but if he did, I’d deserve it. I didn’t even think about how what we were doing could damage Neurotech.” Josh shook his head like he couldn’t believe how stupid he’d been. “I could kick myself. I didn’t even think of the insurance claim.”

“I guess neither of us has a life of crime ahead of us. We’re not great planners.”

“Guess not.” Josh picked at his jeans.

“I can talk to my dad again,” I offered.

“No. It’ll be better if I do it. He’ll respect it more if I talk to him directly; if he thinks I’m hiding behind you, he’ll be even more disappointed in me. I’m meeting with him after school today. I plan to throw myself on his mercy and plead being momentarily stupid.”

“It’s okay if you’re mad at me. You don’t always have to understand. You only did it because I wanted you to.” I leaned my head back against one of the shelves. I was vaguely exasperated. I knew Josh wanted me to apologize, but he wouldn’t just come out and say he was ticked. He had to play this game where he acted like he was fine and I still ended up begging for him to forgive me. I had the sense my dad was going to forgive Josh easier than he would forgive me.

“If your point is that I wasn’t planning to sneak other people in for the treatment, then you’re right, but that doesn’t change anything. I did it because I thought it would help. And it did help—you’re feeling better, right?” Josh said.

I paused. Josh pulled back so he could see my face.

“You are feeling better?”

“Yes. Mostly.” I pulled on the hem of my uniform skirt. Considering that the school didn’t want us to be sexually active, you’d think they would know better than to dress us up like a bunch of naughty schoolgirls. “I feel better about Harry. I can think about him now without falling to pieces.”

Josh pushed the hair out of his eyes. “It’s fine if you’re still
a bit sad. The procedure doesn’t wipe the memories out. Some people still find they have these residual feelings; that’s perfectly normal.”

I hated how he sounded. Just because he worked at Neurotech, he acted like he knew more than me about the procedure. “It’s not that. I’ve just had a couple strange symptoms.” I forced a laugh, trying to make it seem like no big deal. “I’m not even sure they’re related to the treatment; I’m pretty strange on my own.”

“Symptoms?” The worry in his voice came through loud and clear.

“Maybe ‘symptom’ is the wrong word. There’s some stuff that’s odd,” I said.

“Tell me.”

I leaned back. The truth was I was relieved to talk about it with someone. “Right after the procedure I felt really great, but then I started having more trouble sleeping. I’m waking up. Like jolting up, how you do when you’re having a nightmare. The thing is, I’ve been having trouble sleeping since Harry died, so it isn’t new so much as worse.”

“What are your dreams about?”

“That’s the thing. I don’t really remember anything, or what I remember is just this sliver. As soon as I start to focus on it, it gets even harder to recall,” I said.

“What do you remember?”

I tilted my head back against the wall and closed my eyes.
“There’s a woman. It’s like she’s my mom, but she’s not my mom. Does that make sense?”

“Dreams are like that all the time—you’re in a house that you know is home, except it’s not home. Stuff like that.” Josh waved his hand for me to continue.

“It’s weird because nothing really happens in the dream. It’s boring stuff, but then I hear her scream and I feel this huge sense of dread.” I shifted, feeling uncomfortable even saying it aloud. “It’s not always a dream.”

Josh’s forehead crinkled in concern. “You hear it when you’re awake?”

I almost didn’t want to tell him. Even thinking about it made me antsy. “Yes. The time at the mall—I heard it then. Like, it’s not a dream, more like something I’m remembering.”

Josh let out a slow breath. “You should have told me sooner.”

“Then there is one other weird thing. I smell things.” I could see his eyebrow go up. “I smell barn smells. Hay, leather, stuff like that, but not when I’m at the barn. It happens at random times. Sometimes it smells like burning meat.” I took a deep breath and was happy that the only thing I could smell now was the comfortable musty smell of books and a hint of the mint gum Josh was chewing.

Josh rubbed his chin while he thought. “The barn stuff could be connected to Harry. We know memories are coded in different parts of the brain and different things can bring about
recall. How you might smell cookies baking and suddenly think about your grandmother. Maybe your brain is still struggling to remember Harry and it’s triggering the smell center.”

“Fair enough, but meat burning? Or hearing a woman scream?”

He shrugged. “That doesn’t make sense. My best guess is that they’re false memories. Sort of like a short circuit in your head. Your brain is connecting different things, and that mashup is popping up like a memory. It might be the procedure, or it could be because you’ve been upset. You said your trouble with sleep started before the procedure.”

“A fake memory? You think I wouldn’t remember what really happened to me?”

“The brain does all sorts of weird things. Having a fake memory isn’t that unusual. It’s nothing to worry about.”

Easy for him to say. His brain wasn’t the one short-circuiting. “You remember those protestors here at school?” I asked. “One of them came to my house. The guy who tried to help me up when I fell.”

“What?” Josh’s voice was loud. He lowered it as soon as he remembered we were in the library. “What was the guy doing at your house?”

“He saw me at the clinic and then when I passed out at the mall. He guessed that I had the treatment.”

“Did you tell him anything?”

“No.”

“Why is he stalking you and following you around town?” Josh’s face was scrunched up in concern.

“I don’t think he’s stalking me. He said I’m the kind of girl people notice; he just happened to see me.”

Josh snorted like the idea was absurd. My teeth clenched. I stared at the shelf of reference books across from me because if I looked at Josh I might snap. I needed to stay calm and rational. I didn’t want him to dismiss what I was saying because I was too emotional.

“He brought me all this information on possible side effects from Memtex. Some people say it causes early Alzheimer’s.”

Josh laughed it off. “There are people who say it’s responsible for everything from warts to seizures. People can say whatever they want, but there’s no data to back it up. Memtex is one of the most researched products out there.”

“Then what’s causing my symptoms?” I felt slightly better that he was so sure it wasn’t any big deal. Josh was obsessed with Neurotech; if there were anything to the rumors, he’d be all over it.

Josh shrugged. “Stress, maybe?”

“I wasn’t stressed until all of this started happening,” I pointed out.

“Not exactly. You were stressed when Harry died. You already admitted that you were having sleep problems before you ever had the procedure.”

I hated that he used the word “admitted” like I’d confessed to a crime. “It’s worse now,” I said.

“Maybe we should talk to your dad. I’m not sure you should have canceled your doctor’s appointment.”

“No way.” I turned his head so he was looking into my eyes. “I’m serious. I’m fine. I don’t need to see anyone. Do not tell my dad.”

Josh rolled his eyes. “At least tell him about the stalker.”

“Neil’s not a stalker,” I huffed. Was it that hard to believe that some other guy had noticed me?

Josh cocked his head. “Neil? You’re on a first-name basis with this guy? Don’t you see? This is the kind of thing people like him do. They suck up to people. Act like they’re doing you a favor, or that they like you. You can’t trust this guy.”

I felt a flash of annoyance. I had one overprotective dad. I didn’t need another one in the form of my boyfriend. “I wasn’t planning on having the guy move into my house. I met him, in a public place, so he could give me some information.”

“I bet he has some angle,” Josh said.

I was annoyed with how smug he was. “How’s this for an angle? His brother died after taking Memtex.”

Josh rolled his eyes again. “It makes for a good story.”

“You think he made up a dead brother?” My voice came out clipped, but I felt a ripple of unease. I hadn’t double-checked Neil’s story. But could he make up something that detailed?

“I don’t want to have a fight. I’m just pointing out that he could have told you anything he thought would get you to listen to him.” He held up a hand to stop me from saying any
thing else. “Maybe he’s telling the truth; there’s no way for you to know. And it doesn’t matter. What matters is what is going on for you. One thing I’m sure of is that you don’t have early Alzheimer’s.” He took my hand and squeezed it. “I promise. My best guess is that everything you’ve experienced is some residual memory combined with stress because you were hiding it from your parents. I bet in a couple of weeks it clears up.”

“Probably.” I didn’t feel nearly as certain as he did. My mind churned over what was going on.

“Trust me. Everything will work out.” Josh winked. He stood and pulled me up, dismissing my concerns like they were nothing. “The bell’s going to go off. I’ll walk you to class.”

I let him guide me down the hall. He talked about his exam in math, but I was only half listening. I’d been with Josh for so long that I often knew what he was going to say before he even said it. It wasn’t that what he said was boring, just predictable. Sometimes I wanted him to say something that would surprise me, but I supposed the benefit of dating someone for a long time was that there weren’t surprises.

We passed under the statue of Saint Jude, patron saint of lost things. I wondered if I should say a prayer to him to help me find my sanity. There was something I hadn’t told anyone, something I was finding hard to put into words. Some of the things in my dreams, the fake memories as Josh called them—I didn’t want them to go away.