“You drive me crazy, Elizabeth. You always have.”
He opened his eyes and searched 4B’s face, looking for something. She stood there, hoping he would find his answer, whatever it was. Finally, he caressed the side of her face and stepped back.
“I’ll call you from Dallas, okay? I fly back tomorrow,” he cracked a small smile, but there was sadness in his eyes. “I won’t forget my promise. The lavishing starts now.”
With that, he walked around to the driver’s side of the car and waited as she went into the house before he drove away. This time she had remembered to take a key, so she was grateful she didn’t have to wait for Miriam to answer the door.
When she closed the door, she stood in the dark foyer and wondered how she felt about what had just happened. As she started up the stairs to her room, she realized she needed to clear things up with Kev sooner rather than later. It threw a wrench into things that he was going back to Dallas the next day. As much as she really didn’t want to face him, she didn’t want to break up with him over the phone. She needed to figure out this complication.
4B took a shower and rinsed away the hairspray and makeup, but most of all, she wanted to get rid of the scent of Kev’s cologne. Smoothing in the last of her moisturizer, she glanced at the clock and did the math on time zones. It was just after midnight in Cambridge, which made it just after 8:00 PM in Juneau. It didn’t matter that she’d spoken to Nora already earlier in the day. She ached to hear her voice again.
Without having any sense of control over it, 4B picked up the phone and immediately felt better when she heard Nora’s voice on the other end.
“Hi,” she said in response to Nora’s usual professional greeting. She smiled but didn’t tease her like she sometimes did.
“Hey, you,” said Nora, and 4B could hear the pleased smile in her voice. “I wasn’t sure if you would call after the big shindig tonight.”
“I just got back. I need to hear your voice before I go to sleep,” said 4B.
“I’m glad,” replied Nora. “How was it?”
“Not as bad as I thought it would be. There were people there to help me if I needed it, but I didn’t rely on them too much.”
“I’m glad it went well, then. It must have helped to go with someone you knew… or sort of know. I could tell you were way more nervous than you let on about it.”
“You could?” asked 4B. She thought she had played it off better than that.
“Yes. When we were talking earlier, you sounded a little scattered. You normally don’t sound like that, even when you’re scared.”
It gave 4B’s heart a little skip to know Nora was so in tune with her, but she wondered what else she might be picking up on. She didn’t ask. There were lots of things they didn’t ask each other. Like, when would they see each other again? What did they mean to one another? Was there a future for them? The answers weren’t available yet, and when they did become available, there was no guarantee they’d like the answers, so they avoided them—at least 4B did. She assumed Nora had similar reasons of her own. She wondered if Nora had questions about Kev.
“It turned out okay. I owe it to you. You helped me find my inner calm before I left.”
“I did?” asked Nora and 4B was surprised to hear a little insecurity in her voice.
“Yes. You always make me feel better.”
“I’ve done my job then. So, you were successful in getting back on the horse?”
4B gave a small laugh.
“I guess so. My mom will be pleased.”
“Except for what?” asked Nora and the question surprised 4B.
“What do you mean?”
“I can hear it in your voice. Something didn’t go well tonight.”
4B paused. Nora was so gentle and intuitive. She didn’t feel pressured to tell Nora anything, especially since nothing was going on between her and Kev, and she knew Nora would never push. Yet, she wanted to tell her everything, to lay everything out and to ask Nora to help her figure out her life. But it wasn’t fair. She knew she’d be breaking things off with Kev, with or without her memory, despite his return to Dallas, but so far she hadn’t been able to figure out how. And still, she wasn’t ready to tell Nora. Mostly, because she didn’t want to worry her, and she didn’t know how not to.
“Hey, you don’t have to talk if you don’t want to. I know you have a lot on your plate and you don’t have all of the words to describe what’s going on. I just want you to know that I’m here for you. Regardless of what happens or how our lives play out, you have me on your side.”
“See? You make me feel better just talking to you. I miss you. I miss you so much it hurts sometimes.” 4B held her hand over her chest as if to help ward away the pain she was feeling there right then.
“I miss you too,” whispered Nora, and 4B could hear the pain in her voice. It wasn’t the first time they’d admitted to missing each other, but there was more to it tonight, an unspoken need left hanging there. “It’s unfair to tell you that, though, what with everything you’re going through,” said Nora.
“I needed to hear it,” said 4B. “You never make me feel like you expect anything from me.” But if she were honest, she wanted Nora to expect things from her. She knew she wasn’t in a position to deliver on anything, but if Nora had asked her for anything, she would try to give it to her, no matter what she asked. And it scared her.
“Then I’ll tell you I miss you more often, because I do. I miss you more than you can know,” said Nora.
“Same here,” whispered 4B. And for a minute there was no sound except for their breathing. 4B thought she’d like to fall asleep to that peaceful sound.
“I hate to go, but Aunt Mace needs me,” said Nora after a while.
“How is she?”
“About the same.”
“Give her my love, okay?”
“I will. Good night.”
4B listened to the silence after Nora hung up, unwilling to let go just yet. Her heart hurt more than it did before she had called, but she was glad for having shared those moments. She went to sleep with the memory of the smells of pine and smoke, and the soft sound of Nora’s voice whispering her name.
The next day, shortly after getting up, 4B went through some of the boxes and plastic containers stored on the shelves of her closet. Under a stack of boxes of clothing, and a bin filled with children’s books, toys, and games, she hit pay dirt. A shoebox pushed into the furthest corner of the top-most shelf held a stack of journals, some loose letters, a handful of photos and a variety of mementos: a dried rose; a gold chain with half of a heart on it; a drawing of a girl who looked like Layce; a love poem; a mixed tape; a woven bracelet; and a collection of rocks shaped like hearts.
4B sat on her bed and spread the contents in an arc around her. There were seven journals in all, the oldest featuring cartoon characters on its cover, the most recent bound in a hard black cover. Curiosity rose within her, but something held her back. Feeling like a voyeur snooping through someone else’s life, she reminded herself the books were hers. They contained her life. There was nothing in them she didn’t already know on some level. She let her fingers slide over the stack of books. A thread of fear battled her curiosity. The books contained her past and might say more about her future than she was prepared to face. She left the journals for a moment to examine the random items sharing the box with them.
She picked up a folded yellow square of paper with blue lines, torn from a legal pad. Layce’s name was written on one side. She opened the note, which was folded in the way of kids who passed notes in class, a small tight rectangle with the final corner tucked into a crease to hold it closed. She knew somehow she’d been an expert at that folding technique at one time. There was a short poem written in adolescent cursive on the page:
Layce-
I will give you my heart, as a friend
Until the world, it comes to an end
Though we do deserve so much more
But we bo
th have figured the score
And since we can’t ‘marry’
Our secret we have to carry
Just know that if it could be
You’d be the only one for me.
I heart you, as my best friend, forever
(I hope that I can get up the nerve to actually give this to you!!)
4B cringed at the sophomoric rhyming scheme and the childish mushiness of the words, though she raised an eyebrow at the message. Since she was still in possession of the note, she figured she had never given it to Layce. And from the note, it was clear she had, at least at one time, felt more than just friendship for Layce. Had it remained a secret crush? After all, Layce was with someone else now and they had a baby. And she was engaged to Kev.
The confusing clue to her past forced her to examine who she really was. She’d written a love letter to a girl before she was with Kev. She felt so deeply for Nora now. Was she a lesbian? Straight? Bisexual? Kev appeared to be the kind of man most women would be attracted to. He was handsome, considerate, successful. He seemed to be a good man aside from the sexy flirting with other women. But she felt nothing in his presence. In comparison, just the thought of Nora elicited a warm rush of emotion within 4B, making her heart race and blood rush to sensitive places. Maybe her journals would tell her more.
She picked up the first one. A childish scrawl and dated entries documented the events of a young girl’s life: school, friends, her horse, what she had for lunch, things she liked, things she hated. She laughed as she read her childish descriptions of her teachers and friends—some flattering, many not.
As she read through the journals, she decided she liked the young woman she had been. She was kind, sensitive, tough, smart, and she tried to see the world from other people’s eyes.
As she entered her teen years, she saw a little of the classic mother-daughter stress, and she felt some of the frustration and resentment toward her mother. There was a fight over dresses—her mother insisted she wear them, and she wouldn’t be caught dead in one. Based on the wardrobe currently hanging in her closet, she had obviously gotten over that. There was a passing mention of the general expectation she would follow in her mother’s political steps someday. Her assertion was there was no way that would ever happen. Words of admiration for her mother peppered the texts for a period, along with her desire to never disappoint her, and then it was never mentioned again, as talk of becoming, first a firewoman, then an Olympic sculler, and then a doctor, filled her dreams.
In seventh grade, the journals became more detailed. Entire pages, and then several pages at a time, had been devoted to a day’s experience and musings. Poems filled some of the pages, and the drawings interspersed among the entries began to get more elaborate and more carefully drawn. She imagined her thirteen-year-old self, sitting under one of the trees by the stables as she sketched the horses.
A drawing of a long boat skimming down a river preceded an exclamation, all in caps, each letter traced several times indicating high emotion:
I MADE THE SCULLING TEAM!!!!!!!
Excited entries described days spent down at the Branton Boat Club. And then they became even more excited as a new girl named Layce Dalton moved to town, joined the club, and then made the team.
Early afternoon found the adult 4B sitting in a wicker chair on the back porch of her parents’ house enjoying the gentle warmth of the fall sunshine. A cool breeze made it necessary for her to wear a light sweater, and she had her legs tucked under her. One of the journals was open on her knee and two small stacks of books, one she’d read and one she hadn’t, stood on a nearby table with an empty coffee cup keeping them company.
4B read the exploits of the two girls, her and Layce, as they quickly became friends, delighting in all of the fun times they had shared, and the description of Elizabeth as an outdoorsy, girly girl who wished she could be more like the wild tomboy, Layce. She even laughed when Elizabeth longed to have the untamed curls Layce complained about, describing her own fairly straight hair as “boring Rapunzel hair”. The previous journal entries paled in comparison to the bright-toned activities described by the young Elizabeth from then on. Even the disappointments, few and far between, were vividly documented in the hyper-analytical fashion of a thirteen-year-old girl.
Emotions flew through 4B as she read her old journals. What had started out as a literary romp through someone else’s life to satisfy her curiosity began to feel more personal. She still didn’t read the journals with the familiarity of one who was recounting an experience, but more as a person who was visiting an old friend. The events were still new to her, but nothing surprised her and as soon as she read them, she could feel them weaving into the fabric of her past. She occasionally wondered if this was what her mother had warned her of—the synthetic assimilation of memories she wanted to have, rather than the organic real ones she should have. But it didn’t matter to her. She wanted to know.
She was near the end of the second to last journal when the cell phone she’d tucked into the pocket of her sweater rang. She took a break from reading to answer it, hoping it would be Nora.
“Hi, honey. How did the dinner go last night?” asked her mother, who was still in Washington. She wasn’t due back for another day. It was a nice interruption. 4B found she missed her.
“It was fine. I had a good time. I didn’t expect to, but I did.”
“I’m glad.” Her mother sounded pleased. “Did you and Kev get a chance to catch up?”
“Do you mean; do I remember him?” asked 4B with a smile. She was discovering her mother was a diplomat in all things, not just politics. She knew a sensitive situation when she saw one. A direct question could be painful if 4B wasn’t ready for it. “I still don’t remember him, but we enjoyed each other’s company. Every day, the feeling my memories will come back gets stronger.”
“Well, as long as you’re doing okay, I’m happy. What are you up to today?”
“Reading my old journals. I found them stashed in the back of my closet,” explained 4B, picking up the journal she currently held, examining the cover.
“Oh, good! I’d forgotten about those. They should be a great nudge to get your memories flowing again. You have a whole stack of them, if I remember correctly. You used to write everything down when you were a kid.”
“It’s been interesting so far. It’s weird to read about yourself as if I’m a character in a book.”
“Is that how it feels for you?” asked her mother sounding both fascinated disappointed.
“Mostly. Sometimes I feel like I’m having déjà vu. I suppose it’s a step in the right direction.”
“I imagine you feel like your entire life is on hold until this shakes out.”
“A little. But even if things don’t come back to me soon, I think I’ll still be comfortable with taking the next steps.”
“What kind of next steps?” her mother sounded interested in what she planned to do. She felt guilty that at least one of those plans was to break it off with Kev, at least for her mother’s sake.
“I’m not sure yet,” she only halfway lied. She was going to do it. She just didn’t know how she was going to do it.
“Has Kev been pressuring you? I know he feels sort of in limbo, too. I asked him to be patient.”
“I didn’t get the impression he and I had anything solidly planned out. Do we? I know we’re engaged, but, have we set the date or started planning?”
“I’ve been trying to get you to set a date for years!” laughed Roslyn. “Everyone expected your graduation from med school last spring to set the whole ball in motion, to be honest.”
“What are my career plans? Do you know?” 4B said to change the subject.
“Oh… that’s a can of worms I prefer to discuss when we have a little more time.”
“I’ve got time now.”
“I’m sorry, sweetie, I’m due back for meetings in a few minutes.”
“Okay,” said 4B, adding her career into the list
of questions she wanted to get to the bottom of. “Does your hesitation have to do with whether I go the political path versus the doctor path, by any chance?”
“Why do you ask about that?”
“Young Elizabeth discusses it a few times in the journals.” 4B didn’t mention her discovery that it had been a big source of frustration for her as a child. She wasn’t able to provide more insight without her memory and her mother would probably want to know more about it. It was probably a conversation for later.
“Fascinating. I’d love to see what you said about it, if you want to share. I thought your father and I were so good about not applying pressure.”
“I don’t think any kid escapes childhood without feeling pressure—most of it being applied by themselves,” laughed 4B, wondering if she would ever show her mother her journals. Like most kids she was far more critical of her parents than she might have been—at least from what she could tell as an unbiased observer, since it was still like reading a book about a fictional character. And contrary to her mother’s intent, the pressure to marry Kev had been obvious since the first journal she’d written, when in second grade she’d already referred to him as her ‘husband-to-be’.
“Oh, before we hang up, and along the career topic, I called down and asked them to defer the start date of your residency. They normally wouldn’t do this, but under the circumstances…”
“And I’m sure it didn’t hurt it was a call from Senator Tollworthy,” interrupted 4B with a smile.
“Well, that, too,” admitted her mother. “I hope you don’t mind. It’s difficult to know what to consult with you about while we wait for things to improve. You and I have a little bit of a history about my tendency to take over. It’s a habit I’m trying desperately to control—at least with you. Your father seems to like it, and my constituents vote for me because of it. But I’m not so sure my daughter appreciates it all the time.”
Chasing Mercury Page 30
