Chasing Mercury

by Kimberly Cooper Griffin

  4B laughed. She was relieved that her mother had taken care of this particular commitment. In reality, she hadn’t thought about it since a few days prior when her mother had first mentioned it. Again, it didn’t seem like it was her life. “Considering the circumstances, I think you made the right decision. There’s no way I could just show up and start being a doctor.”

  “My thinking exactly. But it was a bit disconcerting making the decision for you.”

  “Thanks for everything, mom. I know this is weird for you, too.”

  “It’s what mothers do, honey—weird stuff and all.”

  4B spoke with her mother for a few more minutes before ringing off. The call put her into a state of deep contemplation. The realization that her state of limbo was putting other people’s lives on hold wasn’t a new thought to her, but she really hadn’t thought about it having a deep impact on those around her. Sure, her mother and father were helping her get through it, and being her parents, they were invested in it. But the feeling of disconnect she felt with Kev had led her to assume the impact to him was moderate at most. Remembering the goodnight kiss, she wondered if she had it wrong. Hopefully she’d get it straightened out soon. Then she thought about Nora. Wonderful, beautiful, supportive, sexy Nora. She had purposefully not thought about what Nora meant to her, about how she fit into her future, but she knew that, whatever next steps she did take, she would have to make a decision about Nora. Nora had ever asked for a decision, but every day the unsaid became a louder topic in their phone calls.

  As she thought about all of this, 4B stared absently at the journal in her hand. Her finger held her place, and her eyes, unfocused, had unintentionally centered on a specific spot. The journal was a generic blank-paged, black, hardcover book, the type found in any stationary or office supply store. It felt good in her hand and it made her itch to write new entries. A small gap in the pages caught her eye and she flipped forward to them. Several pages had been torn or cut out of the book. The gap in the dates suggested a span of several weeks had been removed. She went back to where she had paused in her reading and began to read the pages preceding the section.

  When 4B read as far as the missing section, she found the last page before the gap described young Elizabeth’s excitement over a coming youth dance at the boat club and a sleepover that had been arranged for afterward. The girls would stay in one of the meeting rooms, the boys in another. There was no mention of how it went, but when the journal picked up again, it described, in true adolescent angst, her deep unhappiness about a fight she and Layce had gotten into sometime during those days or immediately after. Whatever happened in those pages had resulted in a serious rift, which left the girls not talking to one another. The following pages described Elizabeth’s grief after losing “the best friend she had ever had”. As 4B read through those words, she sensed the emotional shadow of despair her younger self had felt. She wondered if the poem had anything to do with it. She kept reading.

  4B’s engrossment in the story grew deeper with the dramatic turmoil during that time in her life. She followed with interest how Elizabeth turned to Kev in her anguish. She read about how Kev had been her rock during that period. How he had listened to everything and was always supportive, even when Elizabeth wept to him about the black hole left in her chest at Layce’s absence in her life. The drama continued, until, one day, almost out of the blue, Layce came back into the picture and things were almost fine. Elizabeth spoke of a subtle barrier, but in a strange shift in tone, she called it healthy. Life seemed to pick up in a happier fashion for a little while. Elizabeth found ways to include both Layce and Kev in her life, even when Layce started to date someone named Shannon. Elizabeth seemed relieved. She spoke of not wanting to have to entertain Layce while they were doing boyfriend/girlfriend things, so Shannon was a welcome addition. But soon, Elizabeth started to talk about small resentments and a feeling of disconnection. There were more fights where the girls would stop speaking and become friends again. But talk of college and graduating started to take up more of Elizabeth’s writing, and talk of her personal relationships became one or two line notes.

  One journal entry got 4B’s attention. It was a very brief mention of Layce and her going down to the license bureau with doctored birth certificates to get fake ID’s. A friend at school had produced the fake certificates, and she and Layce had boldly gone up to get the licenses so they could buy beer. The entry described how they both had used their middle names along with their mother’s maiden names, and had included the address of a frat house where they had once gone to a party. This was the fake ID. The mystery still remained as to why she had been using it so many years later. 4B read on.

  It wasn’t until 4B had read the entries chronicling most of her senior year in high school that Elizabeth referred to Shannon as a woman. Until then, 4B had assumed Shannon was Layce’s boyfriend. 4B paused to consider why she had automatically made the assumption, and realized it was because her mother had mentioned that 4B’s trip to Los Angeles had been to go see Layce’s baby. 4B laughed at herself. Of all people, she never thought she would fall into the trap of generalization. But, then again, she didn’t know who she was, did she? She could guess, but aside from the journals and stories told to her, she had no idea who Elizabeth Tollworthy really was. Again, she realized she hadn’t spent a lot of time analyzing her own sexuality in regard to Nora, and maybe she should have—especially since she had obviously been with Kev since she had started dating—but the ease with which she had made the transition made her think that the concept of straight and gay wasn’t a huge issue for her. Nothing in her journals had indicated she had put much thought into it at all.

  Late that night, 4B had moved her reading back to her room, and she finally closed the last journal, which ended the summer before she set off for Harvard, a student apartment, and a major in premed. She wondered if there were more journals somewhere chronicling her college years.

  All of the reading had given her insight into the woman she had become, but still, the accounts were just stories, and she wanted them to be memories. She closed her eyes and envisioned the fog of forgetfulness receding. She willed the events she had read to become memory, and the hidden secrets containing the rest of her life to rise and fill in the cracks.

  It didn’t work.

  4B looked at the digital display on her clock, which read 2:00 AM. She hadn’t talked to Nora all day and she wondered if it was too late to call. She called anyway.

  “Hey, you,” said Nora, after the first ring, and 4B immediately felt better.

  “Hey, you,” replied 4B, closing her eyes and bringing Nora’s face into her memory. She thought about asking her for a photograph, but she decided against it. She had her drawing, and she liked the more dynamic picture she stored in her mind.

  “I’m glad you called,” said Nora. She sounded tired. “This damn time zone thing caught me off guard today and I had a packed day. When I finished with my appointments it was after 11:00 PM your time. I didn’t want to wake you if you had gone to bed already.”

  “You don’t ever have to worry about the time when it comes to calling me. I want to talk to you whatever the time.”

  “Same here. What’s the matter? You sound upset.”

  4B didn’t know she was so close to crying until the tears started falling and she didn’t answer because she didn’t trust her voice.

  “Are you still there?” asked Nora after a couple of moments.

  4B cleared her throat.

  “Yeah, I’m still here. I think I’m just tired.”

  “It’s not just tired I hear in your voice.”

  “I don’t know what’s wrong. I was fine until I heard your voice,” whispered 4B, no longer caring if Nora knew she was crying.

  “I wish I could hold you right now.”

  The simple statement made 4B’s chest ache. She wanted nothing more than the feel of Nora’s arms around her.

  “Me too,” she whispered into the phone.<
br />
  “Tell me what’s on your mind. What were you doing before you called me?”

  “I spent the whole day reading through my old journals.”

  “Ah. I imagine that’s been an emotional ride.”

  “It was, but it wasn’t. I still don’t remember any of it.”

  “That’s probably frustrating.”

  “It is. The weird thing is I feel sort of like the emotions are memories. I’m reading a story, but I feel like I remember the emotions I described back then, but not the details. And believe me, I described them in great detail when I was a young teenager.”

  “God, I remember those days. All of the ups and downs, the deep feelings. They felt like quicksand if I didn’t get them out.”

  “I can’t imagine you being anything like that. I was a quagmire of feeling.”

  “Are you kidding me? I was the worst. I wish I had written it all down so I could show you. I talked my friends to death with it instead. Some things I kept to myself, but others. Yikes.”

  “I did that, too, it appears,” laughed 4B, wiping her nose on the sleeve of her sweater.

  “Did you discover anything?”

  “Not really. I mean, yes. But I didn’t get my memory back.”

  “It will come, baby. Maybe it’s a blessing not to have it all come back at once. Maybe the emotional memory is a soft way of landing back where you need to be and the memories will come after.”

  “You make me feel so much better. I wish I could see you right now.”

  “Me too,” sighed Nora, and 4B could hear the longing in her voice.

  4B woke from a dream she could barely remember. She and another girl were walking through the woods behind her parents’ house. They came to a clearing much like the clearing that she’d found behind the stables. They sat on the low branch she remembered. 4B sketched the other girl’s face. One of them spread out a blanket and they enjoyed a simple picnic, after which they lay down on the blanket and looked at the sky. It should have been a happy dream. The woods were unintimidating. The sky was blue and wide. The talk was lively and free. But when she awoke her chest was tight with anxiety and an unnamed fear. It was a little too early to call Nora, so she got dressed and went in search of caffeine.

  The smell of brewing coffee led her downstairs. Expecting to see her father before he left for work, the sight of her mother reading the paper surprised her.

  “When did you get home?”

  “I took an early flight this morning. I can only stand Washington in small doses. Besides, your dad has a hard time sleeping when I’m out of town.”

  “Where is he? He’s usually up by now.”

  “He went back to sleep as soon as we returned from the airport. Oh, that reminds me,” her mother tilted her head to indicate something on the floor after she took a sip of her coffee. “Those packages were near the front door when we came in. They must have been delivered yesterday.”

  4B saw a stack of boxes near the kitchen table.

  “For me?”

  “The one on top has a return address from the airline and the other I recognize as the box I shipped from your apartment. When I went into Baltimore to settle up your living situation, I found you’d already packaged up your personal items, so I just shipped them here. I hired a service to put all the other stuff—mostly books, kitchen items, and furniture—into storage until you figure out what you want to do with it all, when or if you go back to start your residency.”

  4B ran her fingers over the top box. “I feel like I should have more of an emotional response when we talk about whether I start my residency or not. Isn’t that the kind of thing people usually work toward during their entire education?”

  “Pretty much,” responded Roslyn. “You were elated when you were selected for this one. The attending physician is very disappointed right now. But under the circumstances, he agreed to hold onto your slot, at least for a short while. He doesn’t want to lose you.”

  4B picked up the smaller box and shook it. There was no sound or discernable movement inside to indicate what was in it. She reached over the counter and pulled the utility scissors out of the knife block situated in the middle of the counter island.

  When the box was opened, she pulled out a roll of bubble wrap with something secured in its center. She unwrapped the contents and found a simple Coach backpack zippered up.

  “It’s a backpack,” she explained to her mother’s interested expression and opened an enclosed letter. She read it aloud so her mother could hear.

  Dear Ms. Tollworthy,

  The following item was found at the crash scene. Please forgive that we are required to analyze every piece of aircraft, including luggage, as evidence in our investigation. Be assured, all of the contents have been inventoried and returned to you.

  If you have any questions, please contact us.

  A director-level administrator from the airline had signed the letter.

  4B placed the letter on the counter and opened the backpack. It matched the purse they had already been returned to her. She had no idea if everything was still in it, as she had no memory of the bag or any of its contents. She pulled out a large plastic baggie with a list of the contents stapled to it. The bag contained a driver’s license, her passport, two pairs of sunglasses, a Kindle e-reader, a couple of chargers for her electronics, a pack of gum, an iPhone, a couple of tampons, and some loose receipts—one of which was dated the day before the crash from a pizzeria in Venice Beach, California. She looked more closely at the license, which was different than the one returned to her with the purse. This one had her real name and a Baltimore address on it. It was most likely her official license, while the other she knew to be a fake now. It also indicated she was five years younger than she had thought. Oddly, the detail elicited the biggest reaction from her. She felt so much older than the twenty-six years her license said she was.

  Nothing in the bag spurred even a faint sense of recollection, not even emotionally—except for her age on the license. Instead, she felt an even more vivid sense of disconnection than she had been. She placed the bag and its contents on the counter and moved over to the larger package.

  “My life in a box,” she said as she pulled the scissors across the tape on its top. “It’s weird, I wish I could open this box and find my memory in it.”

  “That would be wonderful, honey. I actually don’t know what’s in it, since you packed it before I got there. Maybe something in it will trigger something.”

  “I’m not sure if it’s possible. If my journals didn’t do it, I can’t imagine anything else doing it.”

  “Just give it some time,” said Roslyn, as she sipped her coffee. “Maybe this is your mind’s way of helping you to ease into things.”

  “Nora pretty much said the same thing,” said 4B, pushing back the flaps of the box and peering into it. She pulled out a couple of sweaters from the top and saw a variety of items below them. Right away, she spied a small stack of three black books similar to the journals she had read the day before.

  She pulled out a framed picture of Kev standing in his cap and gown at what looked to have been his graduation from law school. She pulled out another picture of her and a pretty woman who was a grown up version of Layce. She studied the picture. They were in shorts and t-shirts, their arms loosely wrapped around each other’s waists facing the camera. Lush vegetation was in the backdrop. She showed it to her mother.

  “That was taken in Guatemala,” said Roslyn. “If I remember correctly, it was taken in front of the command center of the medical unit you volunteered with. I have a similar one with just you in it on my desk.”

  “That’s Layce, isn’t it?” asked 4B, pointing at the other young woman in the photo.

  “Yes. She certainly grew into a beautiful woman.”

  4B agreed and an interesting mix of emotions whirled inside of her at her mother’s comment, though she couldn’t define them.

  “Have you told her about me? Does she know what
happened?”

  4B felt bad for not having picked up or returned the calls she’d seen from Layce. They were best friends. But what would she say? Hello, I don’t remember you, but I’m fine?

  “No. She might have heard about it in the papers, but I didn’t call her. I guess it’s the coward in me. But, I’m not sure she would speak to me if I did.”

  “Oh?” asked, 4B, surprised. “Why’s that?”

  Roslyn looked at 4B with a long look of consideration for a moment before she answered.

  “It’s funny. I was seriously wondering if I could get away with revising history with my answer, you know, telling you what I wished had happened, instead of what really did happen. But then I remembered you already know… or at least you will when things come back to you.”

  “What do you mean? Is it bad?”

  Her mother paused and looked like she was considering how to respond.

  “It’s a matter of perspective,” she replied finally. “But in the grand scheme of things, at the very least, it could be seen as a not very good thing. But, I don’t skirt the tough issues in the rest of my life, so I’m not going to start here. Let’s just say I wasn’t the nicest person to Layce when you were girls. She hasn’t spoken to me since you both went off to college.”

  “What happened?”

  “I asked her to leave you alone.”

  “Why? What was she doing?”

  Her mother paused. “Honestly? I’m not sure she really ever did anything. But, regardless, I reacted badly, and I was wrong. I’m glad your friendship has survived it.”

  “Survived what?” Anxiety tickled in Nora’s chest. She wasn’t sure if it was the way her mother wasn’t answering the question directly or if she was afraid of the answer. It seemed like a big piece of fabric was about to be pulled away from a hidden object. She tried not to show her impatience.