The Memory Box (25 page)

“Yeah?” I pulled out a chair and sat down; Smarty sat in my lap.

“Listen, it was …
interesting,
I guess
,
that you used our names. But seriously, it’s creepy. Okay, I know, it’s not like anyone’s ever gonna think it’s us, that ‘Caroline’ is you, but still.”

Well, there you have it! Give a guy a mile and he drives in reverse. What an idiot. But that’s why I love him!

“Oh, no, wait. You called the husband ‘Andy.’ Not ‘Andrew.’”

I knew it. Didn’t I? I said he’d never connect the dots. Nothing could ruin this moment for me now.

“Oh, come on, ‘Andrew’s’ too uptight,” I said without thinking.

“Uptight?
Thanks
.” His face dropped.

“No, what am I saying?” I yanked myself back into the moment. “No, I mean,” I poured juice in his glass, splashing it everywhere. “I
love
‘Andrew.’ It’s very … refined.”

“Great. Anything else you want to tell me?”

“Whaddaya mean?” I used a napkin to wipe the table without looking at him.

“Well, since you’re coming clean.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I spun around to face him. That was a strange thing to say. He was freaking me out. And killing my buzz. Would he be so calm … if he suspected? That would be devious. And that would require intelligence.

I walked over to the sink and sponged around the drain.

Without looking at him I said, “No, I—no—”

“Caroline, seriously, I don’t want to harp on it. You don’t want people to think it’s a true story, right? You have to change the names. It’s non-negotiable.”

“Oh …” I sighed, “yeah. That’s not a bad idea. I just thought the girls—”

“The
girls?!
They’re not going to read this book! Not until maybe they’re … thirty. Honestly, Caroline, there’s stuff in there that’s upsetting—some of it’s really familiar. I’m not going to judge you for that. I know all about ‘drawing on true experiences for writing that resonates’ or whatever those headlines say on your writing magazines. So I’m not going to tell you to yank it. Just change the names. Win-win.” He dusted off his hands.

“How exactly do you think Lilly would feel about reading that the character named ‘Caroline’ is really not the biological mother of the character named ‘Lilly’? That ‘Caroline’ actually killed ‘Lilly’s’ real mother? She’s not mature enough to know it’s a sick, made-up story to which you attached our names with a sprinkling of factual references. I get it—but
they’re
not going to.”

No, Andrew, you don’t get it. And it doesn’t look like you’re
ever
going to. But you’re still cute!

“I’ll admit,” he continued awkwardly, “there were times I had to stop and scratch my head—wondering where the nonfiction ended and the fiction began.” Andrew forced a chuckle. “If I didn’t know you better, Caroline … I mean a husband less secure might be a little worried after reading that.” He let out a clumsy hee-haw. “This much I do know: you have a crazy imagination,
and
I can’t possibly be as clueless as the Andy in your book. He’s a good guy. But I don’t want a sap like that associated with my name, thank you very much.”

Secure? If secure is the new stupid.

He stood up to put his bowl in the sink.

I walked over to Andrew and put my arms around him from behind, resting my cheek on his back, and said, “He’s also handsome and charming, and a great kisser …”

“I didn’t read anything about him being a great kisser.”

As we stood there, all I could think about was the day I met him at his wife’s wake. As smooth as my plan played out, there’ve been times that I’ve wanted to shake him by the shoulders and tell him the whole truth, just to see his reaction.

He was quiet as he rinsed his bowl. He turned around to face me and put his arms around my waist. His eyes were serious. “Listen, Caroline. I’d be lying if I didn’t tell you that I know what this is about.”

The hair on the back of my neck sprung like porcupine quills. My mouth couldn’t form a single, intelligible word. But, since I couldn’t trust what emotion they’d carry, maybe that was fortunate.

“I know about tragic loss, just like you. Hell, that’s what brought us together. But you lost more than just your husband. You lost your parents and your sister. And I know how hard JD’s death was, and
has been,
for you. It doesn’t matter that she drowned when you two were kids.”

If I had a reply to that, it got stuck—I wasn’t prepared for this. My brain cells tripped over themselves, shoving each other, fighting over how to advise my mouth. I dropped my head forward so he wouldn’t see the confusion in my eyes.

“How old were you again? When JD died?” Was he grinning—or did I imagine it?

“Whaddaya mean? You know how old I was. Why are you asking me that?”

I wet myself without warning. This conversation became unnerving. I needed a Sno Ball so bad, it was nuts. So bad, I would’ve eaten it right in front of him.

I nonchalantly turned away and picked a spoon out of the sink. I stuck it in the sugar bowl by the coffeemaker, then shoved it in my mouth.

“Caroline. What are you doing?”

“Waa?” I let the sugar pool on my tongue. Let it slide down my throat slowly as it dissolved.

“Did you just eat a spoon of sugar?”

“Noh.”

“I just saw you.” His face scrunched into a question mark.

“JD was five.”

“
Five years old?
Can you imagine if our girls experienced that kind of trauma at five? Do you see what I mean?”

He was driving me insane. I couldn’t follow him. No, I didn’t know what he meant. Was he outing me? Was he patronizing me? Was he empathizing? If I weren’t so scared, it would be hysterical—
I
was having trouble keeping up with a
dimwit
. Andrew hugged me and lowered his voice. He became gentle, but I couldn’t relax.

“Sweetie, sometimes people react to tragedies with anger. And that’s obviously how you dealt with it. I’d never ask you to change that. If you need to write about a girl murdering her sister, so be it. I won’t criticize you. Did I think it was going to be a different kind of book? Yes. Was I expecting it to be so disturbing? No. But maybe it was important for you. To move on or whatever. I don’t know. I’m not a shrink. Maybe your next one will be a bit more cheery?”

Andrew kissed me on the forehead and turned back to the sink. “Makes for a great read, though.”

“
Daddy!
” Tessa called from outside, “
what are you doing?”

“I told the girls I’d take them on a bike ride. Then, I’ve got to mow the lawn.” He wiped his hands on a kitchen towel.

I held onto the counter.

“You wanna come?”

“I need some breakfast. You guys go. I didn’t even have my tea yet. Anyway, I have to bake something for the block party. A pie or something.”

Andrew squeezed my shoulders and kissed me. “I’m really proud of you, Caroline. I always knew you had it in you.”

“
Dad
,” Lilly popped her head in the back door, “We’re ready—are you coming? Hi, Mom!”

“Hi, sweetie.”

“I’m coming, I’m coming … I had to finish your mother’s book.” He slipped his sneakers on without unlacing them. “Hey, I thought the Google thing was really clever. I’ve never done that—Googled myself. I oughta try that,” he said before closing the door behind him.

I looked at
them through the window and let out a gust of breath I didn’t realize I was holding. It was behind me now. The day I waited for wasn’t in my future anymore; it was in my past. Now, the rest of my life. A smile filled my entire body. Instinctively, my hands rested on my heart. I had everything I’d ever wanted.

Tessa and Lilly put on their matching helmets. They both were wearing their
Girls Rock
T-shirts. A girl at their school made fun of them for dressing alike. I told them to ignore that nasty girl. She’s just jealous because she doesn’t have a sister. Mean girls always get the punishment they deserve.

“Caroline—” Andrew snuck his head through the kitchen door.

I jumped and knocked over a juice glass. I thought he’d left.

“I just remembered what I wanted to ask you. About your book.”

“Yes?” I crossed my legs and drummed my fingers on the stack of pages. This oughta be good.

“How did she forget all that stuff that happened? How come she didn’t remember?”

Silence filled the kitchen, as though it seeped out of the walls and up through the floor. He stood there, half in and half out. His hand rested on the doorknob, as he hunched over, waiting for a quick answer. But I didn’t have a quick answer. I never actually thought about an explanation for that.

“Caroline?”

“Yes?”

“What was it? You never really said what it was. Did the shrink figure it out? I was just curious.”

I forced myself to keep in mind that Andrew was asking this question. I had to be careful not to mangle a clever person’s thoughts with those of a birdbrain.

All this agitated me. It was a book, for Christ’s sake! Suspension of disbelief, asshole! He was pissing me off now.

“Daddy! What are you doing in here?!” The girls were in the kitchen now, too. They slipped in from the front hall. With their shoes on.

“We’ve been waiting for you. Are you coming or not?” Lilly stuck her hands on her hips.

“Yes, I’m coming. Sorry. I just wanted to ask Mommy something about her book.” Andrew looked back at me, “It doesn’t matter, Caroline,” he shrugged, “how she lost her memory, it’s still awesome.” He smiled and stepped into the kitchen. “I just thought I missed something. It’s probably better to keep people wondering.”

When he smiled again, it erased my concern. I realized my own paranoia was at work. Andrew wasn’t prodding me. He was genuinely happy for me. How did I find someone like him?

“Mommy, congratulations! You finally finished it!” Tessa dove at me and hugged me tightly, squashing her head up against my stomach.

“Yeah, Mom, way to go. I’ll read it later, okay?” asked Lilly.

“Someday, kiddo,” said Andrew, looking back at me with exaggerated eyes.

“Am I in it?” Lilly asked.

“Am I in it, too?” Tessa chimed in.

“Very funny, girls,” Andrew grabbed both their arms and pulled them backward toward the kitchen door, kissing the top of my head as he walked by. “Let Mommy have her breakfast. I thought you guys wanted to go on a bike ride?”

“Love you, Mom!”

“Yeah, love you! Now we have two smarty pants in the house!” said Tessa as the back screen door swung shut. A minute later, Andrew was on his bike, and the girls ran up the driveway to get their bikes from the front of the house.

It was quiet again. My body buzzed with excitement and love and happiness. I don’t know if I’d ever felt this way before. I closed my eyes to take a mental snapshot so I could always remember this scene and this feeling.

Smarty was making it difficult to bask in the warm and fuzzies. He stood in the kitchen doorway barking like a lunatic. With every bark, his body popped off the floor.

“Smarty, quiet down!” He stomped into the room and stood sharply at the base of the table, yapping like mad, insistent. The bark was strangely hostile.

“What’s the matter, Smarty? Sweetie, you’ve got to settle down. What is it? Did you catch something?” I smiled to lighten things up. That was a mistake; he growled eerily as if he thought I was mocking him.

“Okay, Smarty—” I reached out to calm him. He was standing on something. As my hand approached his head, he snatched it from the floor, gripping it in his teeth. A piece of paper. I tried to take it from him, and he snarled. I jumped back. He was officially scaring me. What was this paper in his mouth? I stood tall to show him who was bigger. Then I hunched down to grab the corner of it and pulled.

He wouldn’t let go. He yanked back and forth to shake me off. Something we usually did for fun with his stuffed cat. I released it and stepped back. Something was wrong. I had never seen him like this. He took off and ran out of the kitchen, nearly flying through the air. That’s when I saw what he had in his mouth. An envelope.

The sound of his nails grazing the wood floor made it easy to follow him. Upstairs he bolted, passing a toy mouse on the stairs. “What is it, Smarty?” I called out to him, thinking about how people with pets don’t see the absurdity in asking them questions. When he got to my bedroom he started yapping again, quick, sharp barks. When I arrived ten seconds later, I saw him at my closet. The door was open. Smarty nuzzled his way through what was just a sliver, nudging the door completely open into the room, so it would be in plain view. I was horrified. It was my memory box. Its contents littered the floor. There were toy mice mixed up with my things. All my cherished possessions.

“
Smarty!”
How the hell did his toys get in here? Was it the girls?
Damn.
Did I leave the door
unlocked?
What is the matter with me?
Stupid
Caroline.

My blood pressure was soaring.

He lowered his bottom down onto a pile of letters and newspaper clippings. He stared at me defiantly.

Smarty tilted his head. He had a strange look about him. Accusatory. His ears were taut. His face grotesque.

“What did you
do
, Smarty?!” I was crazy with rage. I dropped to the floor and swept my private things with both my arms into a big pile. JD’s hairbrush, Timothy’s eyeglasses. My dollhouse dolls—the twins—their hair wet from Smarty’s drool. Nearly
ruined
. “Shame on you! What’s gotten into you, you
wretched
dog!” And as soon as I said that, he sprang and yelped. He was inches away and frightening. There was no way this ball of runt hair was going to expose
me
. This goddamned, pint-size mutt knew what? He didn’t know half of it. He was going to bully
me?
Was he
serious?

I didn’t recognize him. And he didn’t recognize me.

He dropped the envelope from his mouth, all the better to snap at me. I snatched the envelope and recoiled before he could react. Before he could bite me. Then I slid backward quickly, toward the back of the closet and farther away from him.