Surfacing (Spark Saga) (3 page)

Another message pops up:

August 14, 2012

TO:                            Mr. Zach Webb

FROM:
              E.G.W.

SUBJ:
                            A tip

Dear Son,

You will need to steam open those pages.

E.G.W.

I am flabbergasted, thrilled, and completely blown away.  My father has indeed contacted me from the future.  I never would have guessed this possible, and yet, if I were to think about it with any degree of intellectual depth, of course, it makes sense.  Not only did he discover time travel, but he made it accessible—to me and to Tess Turner. Presumably, we are the only three people in the universe with this privileged information.  What are the odds?  Excitedly, I type in a reply:

August 14, 2012

TO:
                            E.G.W.

FROM:
              Zach Webb

RE:
                            A Tip

Dad,

I can’t believe it!   I am simply blown away by what you’ve accomplished.  There is so much to talk about.  Not only is your research incredible and life altering—indeed,
universe
altering—it is downright cool to be a part of it.  I have a lot of questions, as you may suspect.  And yes, I am in the midst of a particular quandary involving Tess that I won’t go into at the moment (though I’m sure you already know the details of it, intimately).  For now, I will investigate the pages in
The Time Machine
(once I get home, as I have no way to open them here at the lab), and I will reply as soon as possible. 

Love,

Zach

Contact with my father eases my anxiety about Tess somewhat.  If anyone can help me figure out what to do, it’s him.  I can’t help think that somehow Tess’s chip can be re-programmed.  It seems like the most logical conclusion.  I reprogram her chip to include the memories of us, and all will be back to normal.  Whatever normal is….

Tess

One thing that completely baffles me.  After everything that has happened—a freak accident, out for eight days—for some reason, this cheesy movie was one of the first things that came to mind.  The question just keeps nagging at me:  What would it be like, to have never been born?  Would the world be a different place, just like in the movie,
It’s A Wonderful Life? 
Does one person have that much impact?

I’m still pondering these questions when I realize the room is empty.  My parents are gone and I’m staring at an empty chair.  It’s still light outside and the sun is filtering through the blinds.  As if by cue,
a doctor glides into the room with a clipboard, his glasses on the end of his nose, and sits deliberately in the chair beside me.

“Ms. Turner?  I want to visit with you for a moment, would that be ok?”

Do I have a choice? 
“Sure,” I reply.

He shuffles some paper and pushes his glasses up on his nose.  “What is your birthdate
?”

Why does he keep calling me Ms. Turner? 
“April 18.  And you can call me Tess.”  I smile.

“Very good,” he sa
ys, scribbling on a piece of paper.  “Now, how old are you?”

“Seventeen.”

“And what is your full name?”

Really? 
“Tess Elaine Turner.”

“What year is it?”

“2012.”

“Excellent.”  The doctor look
s up from his papers and glances at me.  “How are you feeling, Tess?”

“Fine, I guess.”

“Do you know why you’re here?”

“I had some sort of run in with a storm, so I hear,” I repl
y.

The doctor nod
s.  “And, what do you remember about that, Tess?”

Was this a trick question? 
“Well, my dad tells me I might have gotten struck by lightning.”

“Yes, but do you
remember
anything about it?  Where you were?  And what you were doing?”

“Not really,” I admit.

A slight expression—something between a frown and a smirk—creeps across his face, as if my condition both worries and excites him, in a professional sort of way.  Maybe a doctor waits years to get a case as messed up—and, therefore, interesting—as mine.  Finally, all his good education put to work.  “Do you remember anything before that night?  About your friends?  School?  Anything you can tell me would be helpful.”

Did I remember anything? 
Man is that a broad question.  I swear I can literally feel my brain trying to wrap itself around it.

“I sort of remember a girl named Cricket.”

“Cricket?  This is a friend of yours?”

I nod.  “A friend from school.”

“And your other friends?  The ones who were here earlier.”

My mind drift
s.  Of course. I vaguely remember Alex.  He’d apparently dropped by to bring me flowers while I was out and had left word with my parents to have me call him when I felt up to it.  And then there’s Dani.  She had been here at the hospital when I woke up.  We had been besties since we were kids.  I remember waking up and being glad she was there, but my memories of the past were fuzzy.  I knew we were friends—best friends, in fact—but I had the distinct sense that something was missing, and I couldn’t put my finger on what it was. But I knew, as soon as I saw Dani, that our relationship was not the same.  “Dani Chase.  She’s my best friend . . . .”  I say it, but it doesn’t feel right, somehow.

The doctor
is writing some notes, then stops and looks at me thoughtfully.  “And the gentleman who was with her?”

I flush. 
You mean the insanely gorgeous guy who was with the equally gorgeous girl who happens to be my best friend? 
“Zach.  He’s a friend of Dani’s.”

“All right, I think that about does it,” he sa
ys, gathering up his papers.  He stands up.  “I’ll be talking to your parents, Ms. Turner.  Meanwhile, take care of yourself and rest.”

I nod.  “Ok.”  As he start
s out the door, I add, “Am I going to be all right?”

“Of course,” he replie
s.  “Rest now, all right?”

My parents come in later to tell me that I am likely suffering from retrograde amnesia, a type of memory loss caused by trauma.  I can recall much of my past, except the events leading up to and including the trauma, which, by the way, is all right by me.  I don’t particularly want to remember the trauma.  The doctor is recommending six weeks of therapy—and since it’s summer, it won’t interfere with school.  I should be fully recovered and ready for school in August.  For now, at least I can go home.

Summer
***

Within minute
s of arriving home, I doze off while sitting on the couch.  Ironically, after sleeping for eight days, I am tired.  The doorbell wakes me up and I hear my parents talking in a low voice.  Then Cricket is standing in my living room.

“Hey,” I sa
y groggily. 

“Didn’t mean to wake you up,” Cricket sa
ys, sitting down.  “How are you?”

“Tired,” I sigh.  “But ok.”

“I heard you got struck by lightning.”

“Maybe,” I shrug.  “I don’t remember any of it.”  Suddenly a memory of sitting with Cricket eating ice cream surfaced
, and I have to smile.

“What?”  Cricket
asks, grinning back.

“Nothing, I just remembered being with you that afternoon.  At the ice cream place.”

“Do you remember what we talked about before that?”

“No,” I admit.

Cricket looks surprised.  “You wanted to meet at some old building downtown.  You told me all these memories you never had before the accident, and that you knew who you were going to marry.”

“Right,” I scoff.  The
accident. 
Suddenly the memories of my 13
th
birthday party flood back to me—how I watched Dani and that kid from the bus sitting on the park bench, the feel of being on that swing, the change in the air, Dani running toward me…I feel a chill just remembering it.

“No, seriously,” Cricket insist
s.  “You were all freaked out that you
knew
who it was going to be.  Like some sort of premonition.”

“Well, who is it?”  I ask.  “Who am I going to marry?”  I
am intrigued.  Plus, if I’d truly had some sort of premonition it would be sort of cool to know what it was.

“You never told me.”

I admit, I am a little disappointed.  I mean—it
could have been
real.  People have premonitions, right?  And now I might never know.  Then again, maybe I’ll get lucky and it will come back.

“Dang it!”  I repl
y.  “I can’t believe you didn’t bug the heck out of me to tell you.”

“I know.  That was messed up.”  Cricket
is staring with a thoughtful expression.  “You were so intense…You really didn’t want to tell me, so I respected that.”

“That’s cool.  Hey, maybe it will come back to me.”

“You really want to know who you’re gonna marry, huh?”

“Wouldn’t you?”

“Yeah, I guess,” she says.  “But, if you knew, you might not like who it is.  You might do things to change the outcome based on how you feel about that person now.”

“True,” I consider. 

“I mean, someone you wouldn’t dream of going out with now…things change, right?  You just never know.  So, who is it?  Who are you gonna marry?  Is it Alex?”

“No—I mean, I have no idea.  I don’t remember.”

“What do you mean you don’t remember?”  Cricket says with a slight laugh.  “Of course you can’t remember something that hasn’t happened yet.”

“No, I mean I don’t remember having that conversation with you.  I don’t even know why I would say something like that, knowing who I’m going to marry.  By the way?  Doctor says I have amnesia, so don’t be surprised if there are a lot of things I don’t remember
!”

Cricket’s eyes widen.  “
Amnesia? 
For real.”

“
Yeah.  Certain things I remember, and others I don’t.”

“Woah.  That’s major.  So will they come back at some point?”

“Hard to say.  Maybe.  Maybe not.”

“Wow.  So what do you think about that?  Is it weird?”

“I have no idea…I guess if I don’t remember something that happened to me, I’m not really missing anything, right?  It would be different if I remembered something that no one else did.  Then I’d just be crazy.  This way, I’m just a girl with less experience.”

Cricket t
akes a deep breath and sinks into the couch.  “Well, let’s hope you remember all the good stuff then.”

“No doubt,” I agree.

But seriously?  I am just sitting here, turning over the idea in my head—of only remembering the good stuff—and if you want to know the truth, my whole mind is pretty fuzzy just now.  It’s like I have slipped into someone else’s body.  I can remember Cricket, but for the life of me, I can’t remember how I
felt
about her.  I mean, what was it that I liked most about her?  Why did we become friends?  I have no idea what her favorite color is, or what she likes to eat, or even her favorite movie.  I have no idea who she likes, or if she has a boyfriend (although I have a feeling it’s Zach).  I have a feeling I am going to be learning a lot of things, from scratch.

After Cricket goes home, I decide to text Alex.  I don’t know why, but I have a feeling he might know, better than anyone, how to cheer me up.  Remembering Cricket’s suggestion that I thought of Alex as the person I would marry, I got a little nervous.  Truthfully, I couldn’t remember what or who I had in mind when Cricket and I had that conversation.  What if, by some strange twist, Alex
is
the one?  I mean, not now, but then?  I mean, everything’s changed, right? 

I sigh.  There is only one way to find out.

             
-hey stranger!  I’m back!

             
-back among the living I suppose?

             
-in theory.
 


             
-how do you feel?

             
-like I’ve been asleep for a week, duh!

             
-well at least you’re well rested

             
-that’s an understatement…

             
-so I heard you have some… issues

             
-issues? 

             
-yeah, with your memory

             
-yea
h
don’t worry, I remember u!

             
-dang, I was hoping you’d forgotten and I could win you over with my natural charm

             
Ok, so I’m assuming that Alex and I were not an official item.  But that doesn’t rule out the possibility that I had some sort of hunch about him anyway.  On the other hand… I must have given him reason to think I wasn’t interested, based on this response.  I must proceed carefully.

             
-there are certain things I don’t remember… certain relationships are… fuzzy

             
-oh, so I might STILL be able to win you over

             
-is that a wish?

-uhhh… maybe…but we’re just friends, remember?

Oh crap.  No
w what?  Alex clearly has the hots for me and has for a while.  Plus, at some point, I made it clear to him that we are nothing more than friends.  Did he make a move on me at some point?  I’m intrigued, but not sure how to press him for information.  And it seems obvious that Cricket is clueless, too.  If she had known anything, she’d have brought it up already when we had the mysterious marriage talk.

-don’t ask me to remember stuff… i’m seriously challenged

-ok, well don’t say I didn’t warn you

-warn me?  About what?

-do you have a date for Homecoming?

Homecoming.  I ha
dn’t even thought about it.  It’s less than two weeks away.  Dani texted me pictures of the dresses she was looking at earlier and, as expected, she looked great in all of them.  Somehow, the thought of putting my tall, meager frame in a snazzy dress is not appealing.

-not exactly

-I guess that means no

-correct

-well, I’m dateless too, so wanna go together?

To tell you the truth, I’m not all that into dances.  I mean, I can’t remember ever going to one.  Can you believe it?  I’m seriously anti-social.  But I suppose I need to do something to redeem myself.  I mean, everyone must think I’m freak central.  And Alex isn’t exactly a second-rate Homecoming date.  He’s popular.  He’s good looking.  He’s smart.  Which begs the question…why on earth would he want to take me to the dance?