Her Last Memory

by C. A. Wittman

  A woman jogged by Dora with her phone strapped to her hand, short Bluetooth earbuds firmly lodged in place. It was a sunny day and the people walking dogs all seemed to favor small fluffy dogs. Some breeds she'd never seen before with thick shaggy brown and reddish fur that reminded Dora of Muppets. As she got to Culver Boulevard, several young people flew by on motorized scooters. Two of them were black girls with thick kinky hair worn out proudly. That was another thing she noticed: diversity everywhere. When she turned on the TV, commercials with mixed race couples and their children were abundant. Once, Dora counted five ads in a row that featured black people only. This had shocked her, the TV shows and commercials with black and Asian actors. Ads that showed off women of varying shapes and sizes modeling the latest fashions. And it seemed that in almost every show, someone was gay or in a same-sex relationship. Another thing she noticed was that no one seemed to smoke anymore. Instead, they sucked on sleek pen-like devices called e-cigarettes. Apparently, according to the ads put out to dissuade young people from using them, vaping caused asthma and lung disease. She'd binged on TV when she was at the clinic, mostly because there wasn't much else to do there, and she wasn't a reader. What Dora missed most of all, though, was being active. She missed skateboarding, surfing and bike riding. She smiled wistfully to herself, thinking about the top mount skateboard with the skull and bones deck that Dylan had given her. All those hours spent at the Santa Monica Courthouse, pissing around.

  She'd browsed Facebook one afternoon, looking up her friends on Maui. The pictures were distressing. Everyone had turned old and fat. Pono Boy had developed a bowling ball belly with round Santa Claus cheeks. He'd been so skinny and wiry. She'd tried to find Steve Bates while snooping through the lives of people she no longer recognized, heart in her throat. Please don't let him be an old man. Her search was unsuccessful. Apparently, Steve Bates didn't do Facebook.

  Dora lingered for a moment, debating whether to continue into town or turn around and go back to the house. A woman in a black sports bra and sleek shiny black leggings with little slits in the fabric that showed off bits of her tan flesh was speed walking in her direction. The wind fluttered her honey-blond hair that fell in loose tousled waves to her neck. She waved and Dora glanced over her shoulder.

  "Hey. You're back home," the woman said and gave her a hug. She smelled of wicker furniture and something citrusy. Dora fumbled to return the gesture, but the woman was already letting her go. She flashed Dora a puzzled smile, cocking her head. "When did you get out of the hospital?"

  "Today." Dora licked her lips. The woman looked familiar, but Dora couldn't seem to place her feline features into any recognizable memory. She ran her hand over her hair as the woman assessed her.

  "It's good to have you back. God, the kids missed you, especially Jesse. But don't worry, they had their favorite aunty at hand," the woman grinned, apparently waiting for Dora to add something.

  "Aunty," Dora whispered.

  "You okay?" The woman reached out a hand, grazing her fingers against Dora's.

  "You're Steve's sister."

  "Yeah," her brows drew in tight, face crumpling in that way that was so common now when Dora spoke to people, like they'd suddenly realized that she wasn't who they thought she was after all. "You, uh, you remember me, right? I know Erica said you had some amnesia."

  Dora nodded and forced a smile onto her lips. "Yes, Carrie."

  Carrie didn't smile back.

  "It's the hair. You used to have long hair."

  "Ages ago. When we were kids." Carrie cocked her head to the other side, her stare hard. Dora felt naked. "You don't seem like yourself." She shook her head slightly as she spoke. "Are you walking on your own?"

  That tight feeling was coming back, her throat closing in.

  "Should I take you back to the house?" Carrie asked gently.

  "I know my way around." The words came out snappish, even to Dora's ears. Carrie pulled her neck in, needles of red spotting her cheeks and blotching her chest.

  "Okay," Carrie said softly, but Dora was already turning away from her and heading east toward the post office.

  Carrie.

  Carrie had barely had breasts and looked like a Skipper doll the last time Dora had seen her.

  12

  Steve - April 1996

  * * *

  "So, you knew my grandma?"

  Steve glanced at Serene. She was looking straight ahead as they walked. He noticed again for the umpteenth time how tall she was––five foot nine or maybe even ten he would guess.

  "Yeah. Barbara was pretty cool."

  Serene turned to look at him, her delicate features set still and regal like one of those Egyptian statues he'd seen in textbooks. Serene's eyes made Steve think of large dew drops about to give way. They dipped down at the tear ducts and her thick dark lashes provided a natural liner. A halo of frizz cupped her head, her enormous ponytail exploding out in a cloud of puffiness against her back. He had never seen anyone like this girl before. She was gorgeous and plain at the same time. Shyness lurked in her dark brown eyes, but she didn't let it show in her posture. She held herself tall and radiated a quiet strength, an I-can-hold-my-own demeanor.

  "What was she like?"

  "Your grandma?"

  "Yeah, Barbara." Serene lifted her chin a little, and that tiny movement jolted Steve as the image of Barbara flashed through his thoughts, the way she used to lift her chin in that same way and then fluff out her hair.

  Steve tried to remember if Barbara had ever mentioned meeting her granddaughter and realized that, aside from telling him she existed, hadn't said much else about her. There was a grandson too, Serene's brother, who was killed when he was small. Barbara told Steve about him much later into their friendship. In fact, Steve only learned of Cedar four weeks before Barbara passed away. She'd become chatty about her life. Told him the same stories of her childhood repeatedly, reliving the deaths of her daughters, Clair and Dottie, and her husband Frank. She spoke of Brenda too, the estrangement, but she never stayed on that subject long.. It was one of those afternoons, though, when she was barely able to stay awake longer than an hour, that Steve learned of Cedar. Fell off a cliff. Serene had been there, witnessed the whole thing. Barbara had closed her eyes after she’d told him. He could see them moving under her lids, the gathering of tears leaking out and snaking down her emaciated cheeks, the slash of her mouth working back and forth. Barbara had fallen asleep shortly after this revelation, her thin chest rising and falling laboriously.

  "It's good for her to get it out," the hospice nurse had said, taking in his pale face. "People like to travel back in time when death is near. Revisit the past. Pick it over, the good and the bad."

  "She was… she was smart and fun," Steve said in answer to Serene's question. "Barbara wasn't like other old people; she liked to learn about new things. Actually, she was the one who showed me how to use the internet and how to set up an email account and use instant messaging."

  Serene's eyes lit up as he talked. He raked his mind for other details. It felt good providing something of interest to this girl. "Um, she was a school-teacher, but did you know that during WWII she worked for Douglas Aircraft?

  Serene looked at him in wonderment. "Douglas Aircraft? What did she do there?"

  "She was one of the Rosies during the war."

  "A Rosie? What's that?"

  "Rosie the Riveter. When most of the men were out fighting in the war, a lot of the women took over the jobs the men had."

  "Ah, no way," Serene said, her lips turning up into her crooked smile. "So what did she do at Douglas Aircraft?"

  "She assembled fuselages on B17s."

  "What's that?"

  "The bodies of the planes were assembled with sheets of metal held together by rivets, hence the name Rosie the Riveter."

  Serene laughed then, a throaty laugh, filled with delight at this bit of news. "Barbara was a badass then," she said and laughed again. "I've been wondering about her more
, ever since we went move in her house."

  "Have you ever asked your mom about your grandma?"

  "Nah." Serene lifted her face up toward the sky and took a deep breath. "Ramani didn't get along with Barbara. There's a lot of bad blood between them, that's all I know. She doesn't like to talk about her, like never."

  "Ramani?"

  "Yeah. My mom."

  "Was Ramani's name Brenda?"

  "Yeah, but that's, like, ancient history, brah."

  Steve nodded and smiled inwardly at Serene's use of the word brah. Brenda not getting along with Barbara fit with what Barbara had shared with him about her daughter's estrangement. "Well, if there's anything you'd like to know about your grandma, you can ask me. I got to know her pretty well over the last year."

  "Shoots," Serene said and fell silent. They didn't speak for some time as they continued their walk through neighborhoods of weeping willows and suburban single-family homes. Steve snuck a look at Serene. Her features were pinched in thought and she turned to look at him just then. He felt caught out, his face growing warm.

  "She was nice, though?" Serene asked.

  "Barbara was really nice." He flinched at the memory of her bony hand, ribbed with veins, lying over his, her mouth slack, unable to work properly in the last days of her life. A week before she died, she had sometimes called him by her husband's name, Frank.

  * * *

  When they arrived at their homes, the blond guy was outside on the front porch. He was sitting on the bottom step in his usual attire, clipping his toenails.

  "Who is he?" Steve asked, gesturing with his head. Since Serene and the smaller elfish-looking dark-haired man had shown up, Steve often saw Maybe Brenda, AKA Ramani, walking hand in hand with the other man. The make-out sessions with the blond seemed to have ended and she wasn't so publicly lovey-dovey with him as before. Serene stiffened at his question and her mouth seemed to cave into itself, the right side of her upper lip rising slightly.

  "Darpan," she said quietly. "He's my mom's friend, kind of an ass."

  "I thought maybe he was her boyfriend, but then…"

  "He's no one," Serene cut him off. "Catch you later."

  They'd been standing in front of Steve's house, and Serene jogged across the street to her own place, prompting Darpan to glance up and wave at her with a smile. She didn't return the gesture. A second later, she opened the front door and slipped inside. Steve watched all of this, and Darpan, still grinning, caught his gaze and held up his hand.

  "Hey, man," he called out. "You Serene's new friend?"

  The door to Steve's house opened and his sister Carrie stepped out, peering curiously at them.

  Steve almost turned away and didn't answer, but then thought better of it.

  "Yeah," he said.

  Darpan stood and stretched, pocketed his clippers and crossed over to where Steve stood. Once they were face to face, he held out his hand. Steve hesitated before taking the grinning man's callused palm in his own.

  "Righteous," Darpan said, nodding as they shook hands for seconds longer than what Steve considered normal, Darpan's penetrating gaze locked on Steve. "You have amazing eyes. Really awesome green, brother."

  "Thanks," Steve mumbled, pulling his hand away as Darpan looked over his shoulder at Carrie, the dopey smile on his face a seemingly near-permanent fixture.

  "Hey," he said to her.

  "Hey," she replied in imitation of his intonation, her response laced with subtle sarcasm. Darpan didn't seem to notice.

  "Right on. I'm Darpan. I've seen you two around."

  "And we've seen you," Carrie countered.

  "Yeah," he nodded forcefully. "So you two go to school with Serene?"

  "Nope," Carrie said and went back into the house, shutting the door and leaving Steve to fend for himself with the boneheaded Darpan.

  "Little sister's a firecracker, huh?"

  "I've got to go… inside now," Steve inclined his head toward his house.

  "Sure, sure. Just wanted to introduce myself. I'm glad our girl is making some friends. Serene's quite a chick, right?" He winked. "She's an island girl and this is a big deal for her, moving to the mainland, you know."

  Darpan's words had Steve aborting his plan to escape his unsavory company.

  "Um, are you, like––how are you related to Serene?"

  "I'm her dad, man."

  "Her dad?"

  Darpan's answer was so unlikely, so incongruous with reality that it took a few seconds for his words to sink in. He couldn't be her dad. He was too young and looked nothing like Serene. And what about the other man who Serene's mom was now always shoulder-to-shoulder with?

  Darpan pointed his finger at him like a gun and bent his thumb forward and back. "Pow," he said. "Just blew your mind, right?"

  "Uh, what?"

  Darpan laughed. "Yeah, man, Serene's my kid. Her mom Ramani's my wife."

  "Who is that other man, then?"

  "Been interested, huh?" Darpan said with another laugh. "That's okay," he bumped his shoulder up against Steve's in a friendly way. "Just joshing with you, brother. The thing is, man, Ramani, she's Serene's mom, and she's got two husbands." He opened his arms wide, his smile simulating his gesture. "So Serene's got two dads: me and Aarav. Lucky, right?" He played out a beat on his chest as if it were a drum, rocking his head back and forth. "Some kids have no dads, but Serene's got two."

  "Yeah," was all Steve could think to say.

  "Alright, I knew you were a cool dude, man. What did you say your name was?"

  "I didn't. Steve."

  "Steve." Darpan gave a deep and formal bow. When he stood, he said, "Be humble in this life that God may raise you up in the next."

  "What?"

  "A quote from your namesake, Brother. Saint Stephen. Peace out." He held up his fingers in the peace sign. "And stop by whenever you like. Serene could use some friends, and I can tell you're an angel." He sang that last part in a high falsetto voice before looping back across the empty street.

  "Christ," Steve muttered under his breath, "what a fucking fruitcake."

  He opened his door just as Carrie was striding toward him across the living room, holding out the cordless phone.

  "Your girlfriend is on the line. Says she's coming by. Give me fair warning, will you?" She thrust the phone into his hand and sauntered off.

  "Hello," Steve breathed out the word into the receiver, already trying to think up an excuse to tell Taylor why it wasn't a good time for her to stop by. There was a loud cracking sound that came out of the speaker and Steve realized that Taylor was chewing gum and popping a bubble.

  "Hello?" He said again.

  "Hey, what are you up to?"

  "I've got some homework I've got to catch up on."

  "Me too. I'll bring all my shit over and we can do the study partner thing and maybe some other partner things." Her voice turned honeyed and conspiratorial. Once upon a time, Taylor's sexy charm and seductive voice would have given him an instant erection. But what Steve realized as Taylor continued talking was that he'd stopped liking her. It dawned on him that he couldn't stand Taylor's company, the fakeness of her. She even smelled fake, like acrylic nail polish and plastic. The scent of her hair sometimes reminded Steve of the smell of the Barbies Carrie had when she was a kid.

  "She wears extensions, duh," Carrie told him once when he brought it up.

  Taylor was often cruel, stuck up and arrogant with other girls. Steve had begun to notice these negative aspects of her personality more and more throughout their almost seven week-long relationship. He wondered how he'd missed how horrible she was, because it wasn't just a minor part of her personality. The fact that she was a bitch was plain as day. Serene's face flashed through his thoughts, the way she had looked Taylor up and down as if Taylor were a miserable little insect that Serene could easily squash if she wanted. Once Serene popped into his thoughts, he couldn't stop thinking of her and the puzzle of her two dads. Obviously, neither one was her biological fath
er. Where was he? Steve pondered.

  "Hello? Earth to Steve." Taylor sang out.

  "What?"

  "I'll see you in about twenty minutes. Mwah." And before he could protest, she'd already hung up. Steve stood for a moment, thinking. If Barbara were alive, he would have asked her advice, but then he already knew what she might have said. “Life is too short to be miserable on purpose.” Something like that. He smiled wistfully to himself and picked up the phone again to give Dylan a call.

  Five minutes later, he found himself walking over to Serene's, his heartbeat migrating into his throat muscles. When he rang the bell, Serene fortunately answered. He invited her to go pick up that extra skateboard at Dylan's. The smile that swept over her face took his breath away. Serene brought to mind a darkened room, its contents obscured by shadows, but her smile that afternoon was like someone switching the light on and revealing spectacular beauty. She was dazzling.

  13

  Barbara - February 2020

  * * *

  Barbara watched her mother from the window. She moved at a pace close to a jog, as if she were escaping from the house rather than just going for a walk. When Erica and Cuppa came back with the kids close to two hours later, Dora had still not returned. Erica left immediately to look for her and returned alone, twenty minutes before Dora showed up. Barbara had opened the door to the soft knock to find her mother waiting like a stranger on the front stoop. Dora did not have a key or even her phone. The phone was left in her purse on one of the lounge chairs in the living room. Their eyes met briefly before Dora looked away, stepping inside and skirting around Barbara as if she might burn her. Then, Dora stood motionless in the living room, face flushed from the wind, eyes glittering with a terror that rendered everyone silent. Erica spoke first, asking Dora if she was hungry or might like a bath. Dora loved baths, especially when feeling stressed. But she said nothing, only stood mute with that stricken look on her face, staring at all of them like they were intruders. Sara had sidled up against Erica and Jesse's bottom lip trembled. A streak of something icy and foreign shot through Barbara. Who was this person standing before them? What did Dora mean when she said she was Barbara's age last time she left the house?