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Authors: Eva Lesko Natiello

Tags: #Fiction, #Mystery, #Thriller

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BOOK: The Memory Box
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Whoever said, “You can never tell just one lie” wasn’t lying.

My secrets seem to snowball while my lies pile up.

I passed on dinner, and as we were all sapped, we went to bed on the early side. Tessa couldn’t fall asleep right away, and after hours of tossing and turning in bed, thinking about Ricky, she came into my room to ask if she could bunk with me. I was never so happy to have one of the girls slink into my room in the middle of the night. So Tessa (in Andy’s spot), Smarty Pants (in his usual spot at the foot of the bed), and I finally fell asleep.

Then, around 2:15 in the morning, Lilly began flailing in her bed. The squeaky wheels on her bed frame agitate when she flips around, and this always wakes me but for some reason, never wakes her.
She’s just trying to get comfortable
, I attempted to convince myself. Then she started whimpering. I was sure her nightmares had come back. She hadn’t had one in nearly a year. Before that, they were relentless. Always the same dream.

I climbed out of bed and tiptoed in my typical zigzag pattern toward her room through the minefield of creaky floorboards. Her nightlight (in the shape of a butterfly) cast a soft, rosy glow on her room. The entire room was designed around that butterfly, and almost nothing has changed in her room since she was three.

One would not figure Lilly to be sentimental, but try to buy new sheets for her bed or talk about changing the color of the walls from soft pink and yellow to something less nursery-looking, and prepare for an onslaught of hyper-emotional possession devotion.

“Mommy, how can you take away my stuffed animals and dolls? They’re mine. I don’t want to give them away. Not even to ‘less-privileged’ little girls who would love them to death.
I
love them to death.”

Just a sampling.

So last night when I entered her room, I ventured with practiced finesse, navigating through baskets of old stuffed animals, boxes of hair accessories, and short stacks of clean clothes yet to see the inside of dresser drawers, and still managed to trip over the microphone to her karaoke machine and squash one of Smarty’s rubber toy mice, which let out a sickly squeak. Lilly completely ignores the clean-up schedule I tape to her mirror every Saturday. I shared a bedroom with a sister just like her, and it still drives me crazy.

But even if you closed your eyes and were lucky enough to be lowered into Lilly’s room by trapeze, you would still know exactly where you were. Lilly’s room has the perpetual scent of strawberry and peppermint. Strawberry from her detangler, which she sprays on every night before combing her long, auburn hair, and peppermint from the boxes of Junior Mints she hoards behind her pink and yellow gingham dust ruffle (which will attract a real mouse one of these days).

When I entered her room, the nightlight did something to the color of her hair, that for a fleeting moment made me think of JD, but then it was gone.

Her writhing grew more intense as she clutched her steadfastly loyal teddy bear, Tunum. She received Tunum on her third birthday and decided immediately to remove the little tag from its back seam (which announced the bear’s factory-given name as “Giggles”) in order to give him a proper name. When she paused for all of five seconds, then declared that name would be “Tunum” (with an emphatic nod of her head), Andy and I thought she was speaking a foreign language. We quickly ran to get
What to Expect in the Toddler Years,
wondering if there was a chapter titled, “When Your Toddler Speaks a Foreign Language.” In the end, we chalked it up to Lilly’s burgeoning sense of originality.

The allegiance Lilly has to everything else in her universe pales in comparison to that which she has with Tunum, the attendant of all things safe and good.

To watch her squirm and babble in the thick of her nightmare was disturbing, and while I knew about the actual length of dreams, and that it would soon be over, I couldn’t bear it.

“Lilly, sweetie …” I said softly while gently petting her arm and stroking her cheek with the back of my fingers. “It’s Mommy … I’m here with you. Wake up, sweetie, you’re having a bad dream …” Finally, she opened her eyes, and when she saw me, she sprang up, grabbed me, and cried with determination.

“That girl!” she blurted, “And the lady. They’re back!”

CHAPTER FIVE

Sunday, September 24, 2006, 2:18 a.m.


O
kay, slow down, Lilly, it’s okay, it’s not real.”

She gasped big gulps of air and spewed huge drops of fear. Her arms were coiled tightly around my waist.

“This is real, look around, you’re awake now.” I stroked her hair and started my nightmare-consoling speech, knowing that it wouldn’t erase anything. It wouldn’t take away the fear or confusion, or stop it from ever returning. But for what it was worth, maybe more for me than for Lilly, I always said the same thing.

“Why don’t you try to calm down, take three big, deep breaths, and then start from the beginning …” Then it occurred to me that maybe this time we shouldn’t talk about it at all. What was the sense in that, anyway? She already experienced it once unwillingly. “Hey, why don’t we talk about something else? You don’t need to think about that dream again. Where should we go on vacation?” It sounded absurd when I said it. Why don’t kids come with manuals?

“It was different this time.” She pulled her head away from my chest, “I mean, kinda the same—but different.”

“Sure you want to talk about this?”

“I saw her bedroom! The little girl was so scared.” Panic grew in her eyes. “She’s really cute, I wish I could help her …”

“I know, sweetie.” Lilly looked like a mermaid; from her waist down she was swaddled in a twist of bed sheets, which I unraveled as she spoke.

“It started the same.” Lilly looked at me imploringly, “She took her dolly—
doll
, with her in the stroller to the playground. But it’s weird; I don’t know how they got there. One minute they were at home, and then I heard the swings in the playground screeching and screeching. I hate that sound. But the girl was smiling and playing with her doll—lifting it up and pretending it was dancing.” Lilly slid her forearm under her nose and snorted up any remaining secretions not already deposited on her arm.

“Okay.” I reached for a tissue from her side table.

“The mom was with her, but then she turned into the other lady! Why does she have to do that? She starts out so nice and pretty, and then she turns into the creepy new mom!” Lilly’s chest started to heave, and her voice accelerated. “The mom said it was time to leave the playground. Before the friends came! They’re supposed to wait for the friends. The girl got scared.” Lilly stopped as if she couldn’t believe what she was about to say. “She didn’t recognize her. She looked different. She had the same clothes, the same voice, the same hair, but a different face. A completely different
face
. The girl put her head down because she was scared to look at the mom.”

Once Lilly’s legs were free from the sheets, she readjusted and brought her knees up to her chin, hugged her shins, and rocked herself back and forth.

“Lilly, I’m sure it was still her mom. You know how dreams are. Maybe you just didn’t recognize her. Maybe she got a haircut or Botox or something.”
Botox?
Was I
serious
?

Smarty stood at the side of Lilly’s bed looking at us, wagging his tail, as nervous as Lilly. I picked him up, and he nuzzled his head under one of Lilly’s arms.

She took a big gulp of air like she was about to dive under water. “The girl said, ‘Who are you? Where is my mommy?’ And the lady said ‘I’m your mommy, silly.’ Then they got home. But it wasn’t really their home. Do you know what I mean? It didn’t look like their house, but it was.”

“Did the girl have her doll?”

“No!” Her arms sprang in to the air so fast that I thought Smarty would go flying. “She lost it!” She took the bed sheet and pulled it over her head.

“Honey—”

She dropped her hands in her lap and the sheet with them. “The mom didn’t want to go back to look for it. She said the girl never brought it. That it was in her room. But that’s not true! She
did
bring it! I wanted to scream at the mom!”

“I know, sweetie, you told me. You said she had her doll.” I stroked the tops of her feet through the sheet.

Why was Lilly having this dream?
Why?
It’s not fair to be so scared when you’re supposed to be at peace in your sleep. Where on earth was this coming from? Over and over again.

“She raced to her room anyway to see if her doll was there, but she couldn’t find her room. It wasn’t anywhere. Can you believe that? She looked all over the house, but she just couldn’t find her room. She started crying and ran back downstairs to the mom, and told her she lost her bedroom, too. The mom laughed and said, ‘You didn’t lose your room, it’s upstairs. It’s the only room up there so that you’ll never get lost.’ She went upstairs again. She looked and looked, but there were no doors, no rooms. She ran up and down all the halls—she was so scared because she thought the mom was playing tricks, and then she looked for the stairs because she wanted to get out of the house and back to the playground to find her friends—but the stairs were gone!” Lilly grabbed Tunum, who was stuck between the bed and the wall, and squeezed him with the crook of her arm and clenched my hand with her other one.

“You know what happened then, Mommy? You’re not going to believe this.”

“What, sweetie?”

“The mom was standing behind her the whole time. The girl never saw her, but she was just there. Just like that. How did she get there if there were no stairs? And just when she noticed the mom, she saw a door. For the first time. But that door wasn’t there before. There were sounds coming from inside the room. A voice. The little girl looked at the mom. She was frightened. I just wanted the dream to end—I couldn’t take it anymore. But I didn’t know how to wake
up
.
I couldn’t wake myself up—

“It’s okay, Lilly. You’re awake now, and it’s over.” I pulled her close to me and hugged her safely. At first she gave in to it, and I could feel her heart racing against my chest; then she pushed me away.

“No, Mommy. That’s not the end. The mom opened the door. The girl stuck her head in. No one was in there. But there was a voice a minute ago—I even heard it! But the room was empty. Everything was dark and gray. No pictures, or books, or toys, or clothes. Definitely
not
her doll. There were only two beds. With no sheets or blankets or pillows. Just mattresses. And the little girl said, ‘Where’s my room? This isn’t my room.’ She was crying. ‘This room has two beds—’

And the mom laughed, ‘Of course it has two beds!’”

“Then I woke up.”

This time Lilly practically tackled me. She wrapped her skinny arms around me and dove her head into my chest with such intensity that I nearly fell off the bed. I felt Smarty try to stick his nose between our tummies. I held Lilly tight. I had to remind myself that no matter what kind of game-face she wears, she’s quite vulnerable. Her heart was racing, and her chest moved up and down against mine.

“Thank goodness it’s over. What a terrible dream.”

“Do you know the girl, Lilly? Did you recognize her?” I asked, like a thousand times before.

“No.”

I held her as close as I could and thought about what to say to her to convince her that it would be okay to close her eyes again, to go to sleep again. But I knew this torturous cycle. We’d been through it before. And it would be days, probably more, until she’d sleep peacefully again.

I grabbed another tissue from her nightstand. “Sweetie, is something bothering you? Did something happen at Delia’s house or at school last week to upset you?”

Hmm, let’s see, in Lilly’s last twenty-four hours, her mother has had a freaky head and face injury, caused her to fall in the pool at a swim meet, embarrassed her in front of her friends and their families, and she finds out about a cousin she never knew existed—because he doesn’t, but she doesn’t know that—who “lives” in Argentina with a terminal illness, for whom she may need to donate blood. Well, I don’t know, what could be causing her repressed anxiety?

Something also happened at school on Thursday, in the cafeteria, which Tessa told me about after a little nudging. I wasn’t sure it was enough to really bother Lilly like it bothered Tessa. However, you never know what kids carry around inside, bottled up, waiting to manifest into a disturbing dream that will seemingly have no relevance.

“No, Mommy. Delia’s party was fun. I didn’t have any nightmares at her house,” she said, blowing her nose.

I was conflicted as to whether I should bring up the school incident, but maybe it would help to talk about it.

“How about school?” I prodded.

Tessa told me the story when she came home from swim practice on Thursday. Not that she offered it enthusiastically, but I’m familiar with the quiet preoccupation that accompanies her distress, and with the right lure, I was able to fish it out. Lilly was invited to have dinner that night with her new friend, Alexandra (whose family employs a live-in cook who will make any meal on request). So it was just Tessa and me.

Typically, when Tessa comes home from practice, she can eat a horse, but Thursday she would not even look at food. She dribbled into the kitchen and dropped her backpack and swim bag to the floor, causing the wine glasses in the upper cabinets to clank. Seeping like an amoeba, she moved through the room, eventually taking over a stool at the island.

“Hi,” I offered, approaching with caution.

“Hi …”

After all my efforts to get the alien to communicate had failed, I went to the pantry, to retrieve a bag of chocolate Kisses that I keep behind the kale chips for emergencies.

“How was school today?” As soon as I said it, I realized my mistake—don’t ask a question that can be answered with one word (Parenting 101). “I mean, how was the math tes—uh, um, I mean, what was your best subject today—and why?”

It was all I could think of.

Tessa slowly raised her head and scrunched her eyes, “In 300 words or less?” She couldn’t resist her own joke, which caused a reluctant smile to materialize across her face.

Once again, I’m a mockery.

I let her take two Kisses while she told me what happened in the cafeteria at lunchtime. When she reached for the chocolates, I noticed scabs on her left thumb around the nail bed.

“So, after I talked to my teacher about the homework, recess was practically over, so I got my lunch and went straight to the cafeteria. I looked around for Delia and Lilly and Jenna. At first I couldn’t find them, but then I saw Lilly and Jenna sitting at a table in the back of the cafeteria, with Alexandra. They never sit there. I saw Lilly duck under the table like she dropped something, but when I got closer, I realized she was hiding. I thought she was hiding from the boy in her class who has a crush on her. There was one seat left at their table, so I pulled the chair out to sit down, and Lilly popped her head back up.

‘“You can’t sit there, Tessa!’ She started yelling at me. So I asked, ‘Why not? Is somebody sitting here?’ I heard Jenna say no, but then Lilly went semi-ballistic, ‘Yes, yes, someone is sitting there—Sarah! Sarah’s sitting there!’

“I said, ‘Oh, sorry, I didn’t know …’ Then Jenna turned to Lilly and said, ‘Sarah’s not in school today, Lilly. She’s sick.’ Lilly got even madder.

“Lilly said, ‘Can’t you just find another table, Tessa? Why do you always have to sit with us, anyway? There are plenty of other seats for you to pick from.’

“Jenna said to Lilly, ‘Why can’t she just sit
here?
’, and Lilly turned to Alexandra and said, ‘Well, this is Alexandra’s table. So Alexandra, it’s up to you. But we know how popular you are and that you have tons of friends, so if Tessa can’t sit here, we completely understand.’

“And then Alexandra just kept saying, ‘Well, uh, well, uh—well,’ and that’s when I just couldn’t take it anymore, and I thought … I thought I was going to … cry, so I walked fast to the other end of the cafeteria by the bathroom. It was almost the end of lunch anyway, so I just found a seat far away from them. Then Delia saw me. She was sitting with Hannah. She waved me over to sit with them. But just as I pulled the chair out, the bell rang.

“I brought my lunch home. I didn’t have time to eat it—I wasn’t hungry anyway.”

Here we go again. I really didn’t know what to say to Tessa. I wanted to be able to come up with that really profound enlightenment that would make sense of her sister’s jealousy and rivalry and insecurity. But there was nothing. And anyway, I know I can’t always have a solution in my back pocket. Still, there’s nothing worse than when the girls hurt each other.

Tessa was quiet for a while, chewing. I popped a chocolate in my mouth and chewed along with her in silence. Our jaws moved in unison as both of us look blankly at the same piece of nothing in the air.

I placed my hand on hers.

“I don’t get her, Mom. If other kids are being mean to me, Lilly always sticks up for me. One time last year, remember? She hit that boy who pulled up my skirt.”

I knew I would have to talk to Andy about this. So on Thursday night when he called, I told him. And we decided together to give Lilly a warning, to put her “on probation.” If she acts mean-spirited toward Tessa again, she’s not allowed to participate in the next swim meet. “Get ’em where it hurts,” Andy and I said together, and it sounded really macho at the time, but I’m gonna have to be the one to tell her and probably even impose the punishment and, well, I’m a wuss.

In retrospect, I wish disciplining Lilly were my biggest problem.

Andy and I decided that we’d wait for Lilly to fess up. Often, I’ll admit, this tactic is absurd. But we never stop believing.

When I asked Lilly if anything happened at school to upset her, I gave her some time to think about it. It seemed like a very long time. Then finally, the door opened a sliver. Her head stayed down, and she didn’t look at me.

I guess Lilly’s nightmares aren’t really that perplexing. She’s a burier. She just pushes all that emotional stuff down deep, thinking that she’s getting rid of it, or hiding it. But it all comes back to haunt her in her sleep.

“Well, there was something that happened last week at school with Tessa. But it’s no big deal. Even Tessa said so.”

BOOK: The Memory Box
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