by Lee Davidson
Back at the house, Janine wants to stay, but Meggie kicks her out.
A little after midnight, Meggie wakes and pulls herself and Brody from the sofa and into the bedroom. It takes her an hour to fall back asleep. I block her two times when she wakes up screaming.
Ryan comes over in the afternoon with a bag of lunch for Meggie and Brody. When Ryan goes into the kitchen, Elliott leans against the front door, avoiding me as best he can.
“Look man, will you at least talk to me?”
“You’re an ass,” is Elliot’s reply.
I think about this. “OK, you’ve probably got me there.”
“Seriously, man. I don’t even know you anymore.”
Anymore? “What’s that suppose to mean?”
His eyes narrow. “I don’t get it. How could you not remember?”
I’m not sure what to say.
“It’s Tate! My sister! Your fiancée! The love of your life!”
Whoa, down boy.
We’ve got Lawson’s full attention now as he leans over the back of the sofa to watch the show.
“Come on, Grant! Who are you?”
“Wait a minute, how do you remember all that about your sister?” Lawson asks Elliott from the sofa.
Elliott’s face is animated no more as he slides down the wall. “I remember everything about her.” His eyes lift to me for a second. “And Grant. My memories of Tate started to slip, but they came back and now they’re crystal clear. I don’t remember anything else from my life but the two of them.” Now Elliott’s glaring at me.
“Is that,” I pause to find the best word, “normal?”
Elliott and I both turn to Lawson for an answer.
“Sure,” he says in a no-big-deal way and then appears to be waiting for us to continue with the performance.
A conversation pops into my head from what seems like years ago. “Anna said everyone’s memory loss is different,” I mumble to myself.
“That’s true,” Lawson replies.
Elliott and I wait for more, but get nothing.
“And?” I ask. “Any insight you can add that might be helpful?”
He shrugs. “Not really. Just that Elliott should consider himself lucky. Most of us don’t get to keep so many memories.”
And here’s the look where Lawson waits for more drama from Elliot and me. I’m Grant and I’ll be your entertainment for the day.
“Lucky, huh?” Elliott says. “I don’t get how you could forget her. She was everything to you.”
Overjoyed that Elliott’s at least talking to me, I decide to play along and try hard to sound sincere. “I’m sorry, man.”
Elliott mulls something over, but adds nothing so my focus turns to Meggie. Ryan has gotten her to drink a cup of coffee and keep it down, which is more than I’ve done.
In just over two hours, Ryan actually has Meggie eating. Eating! This guy is good. She has half of a sandwich consumed without making a single trip to the sink when Elliott jumps up.
“I’ve got it!”
Sitting in the doorway separating the kitchen and living room, I’m much less enthused. “Got what?”
“I’m going to make you remember her.”
Yay! That’s what he’s expecting, I’m sure, but I refuse to humor him. “Oh,” is all I say before I’m saved by the bell. I push on the face of my calimeter. “Maybe later.”
I blurt the word that sends me sailing into the atmosphere. After arriving in my room, I head down the hall with a new approach, which is refusing to let a little ice—or fire—scare me away. I need the release. Badly.
I take my position and close my eyes. The strain from my muscles is cut away like puppet strings and I sink into my tree stand, into the relaxed state my body has been craving.
Until it changes.
Damn!
I’m not sure what’s more paralyzing: the cold or the blackness. I hate both, but neither compares to the icicle blade carving into my abs. The stinging knife cuts up my chest, lingering on my neck. When it slices my lips, my scream is buried until the piercing cold moves to my ear.
“Grant, where are you?” the frozen torture whispers.
I expect my eyeballs to crack when my eyelids open. In the coding room, I claw at the freezing sting of my scars. Someone may as well have poured liquid nitrogen on them. When I escape my shirt, the deep purple blister on my chest is nastier than ever. The one on my knee is the same. Even a grazing touch has me cringing in pain. I pull my jeans up, careful not to let the denim scrape over the wound, and stalk out of the room.
Frustrated, I roar and punch the wall on my way to the closet. The hole will be repaired in my absence, no doubt, which makes me angrier.
I head to Benson with my own cup of coffee because the crap there is never strong enough.
Willow starts in before I’ve even reached the table. “Really, Grant? Evelynn?”
This is so not what I need right now. “Drop it.”
“No,” she replies just as coldly.
“What about Evelynn?” Owen asks.
“They kissed.” Willow sings like a toddler.
“Nice!” Rigby cheers in approval.
Owen is in agreement, Liam ignores me, and Clara looks like she’s been punched in the gut.
I could strangle Willow. “We didn’t kiss!”
“Fine, they were tongue wrestling.” She narrows on me. “Better?”
“We didn’t kiss. She kissed me! Against my will!” I throw in for good measure. There goes my man card.
“What? You didn’t kiss her back? This is Evelynn, as in Elite Evelynn, right?” Owen says. Yep the man card is G-O-N-E, gone.
Anna smacks Owen hard and he apologizes
I squeeze my eyes closed. “Just drop it.”
“She’s trouble. Stay away from her,” Willow warns.
More than anything, I want to argue with Willow for the sake of arguing, but she’s right. “Change the subject, Willow.”
“I’m serious.”
“Change the subject,” I repeat.
“Fine. Did you guys see what Evelynn was wearing today?” Between Willow and I trying to get the last word in, it’s a wonder we get anywhere.
I grit my teeth. “Willow.”
She pushes up from the table. “I’m getting something to eat. Anyone care to join me?”
“I would love to,” I say in a mock-sweet voice.
Clara, the only one who has the jewels to join us, stands. By the time I notice her eyes are watery, she turns and runs away. Never mind about the jewels.
“Clara!” I yell after her, but she’s already disappeared into a crowd of Satellites.
“Way to go,” I say to Willow while we snake around the tables.
“Don’t spin this on me. You’re the one who kissed Evelynn.”
“I didn’t kiss her!” An entire table of Satellites stops eating to watch us pass by. “Honestly, I want nothing to do with that girl,” I say in a lower voice.
“Good. Evelynn couldn’t be worse for you.”
“Since when are you so interested in my love life? You didn’t act like this when I had dinner with Clara,” I remind Willow.
“That was different. You weren’t into Clara.”
“And I’m not into Evelynn! And so what? What if I had been into Clara?”
Willow stops in the buffet room and turns to face me. “Things were,” she swallows hard enough that her throat moves, “different then. I didn’t know everything I know now.”
“Which is what, exactly?”
“Look, I just don’t want you doing something you’ll regret, that’s all.”
“Why would I regret kissing someone?” I ask, suddenly thinking of Trina.
Willow hands me a tray. “Just drop it, please.”
“Oh, now you want to drop it?”
Since she’s not enthused, I decide to let it go. May as well try to enjoy the rest of break. We fill ou
r trays in silence before heading back to the table.
I work on my steak and am relieved the topic has taken a new direction, putting the emphasis on Rigby. He’s going on and on about Whitfield and doesn’t let up until she enters the room. Then he excuses himself and joins her.
“Talk about dropping us like a bad habit,” Owen says.
“Lighten up, he’s in love,” Anna replies. “You know what it’s like.”
Owen gets all googly-eyed and kisses Anna.
Liam, who has looked better even on some of his worst days, stays quiet and keeps his head down through the small talk that follows. Everyone presses their calimeters just after mine buzzes, signaling the end of break and the beginning of more torture. The agonizing thought makes me brush against the scar on my chest, which I instantly regret. As if my touch was a trigger, ice shoots out in all directions and my face cringes in pain.
“You all right?” Willow asks with her eyes glued on my chest.
I mange to nod.
Sure, now Liam’s interested.
Elliott must have used his break to work out his plan of attack because he’s on me before I even get my balance from landing.
“Let me at least get my reading done,” I say.
Lawson, who’s stuck in his own book, laughs.
I open to the documented place and scan the page as slowly as possible. There’s only one paragraph today, so dragging out my reading is not easy. I welcome the light load, or rather, my muscles will welcome the reprieve.
Elliott finally becomes suspicious of my stalling. “You can be stupid sometimes, but I know you don’t read that slowly.”
Without the energy to return his blow, I close the book and shove it into my bag, making sure to check on Meggie before he can start. Still at the kitchen table working on her sandwich, Meggie has the closest expression to a smile I’ve seen since the fire. Thank God for Ryan. I wish he’d move in. Brody spaces out on his Coke can and I wonder if Lawson’s day will be as easy as mine.
“So, about Tate,” Elliott says.
Strike that thought about Ryan moving in. The new house guest would come with too much baggage.
“I was thinking I’d start off easy. Do you remember what you did in life? You know, for a job.”
“I was a carpenter.” I get the feeling I’m going to loathe this game.
“Who’d you work for?”
“My dad.”
“Did you guys get along?”
I shrug. “Can anyone really get along with my father?” Yes, I loathe this game.
“And your mom?”
My arm muscles bulge, stretching the cotton of my short sleeves. “What about her?”
“Bro, you never talk about someone’s mom.” Oh joy. Lawson’s joining in the fun, too.
Elliott moves on. “You remember anything about high school?”
I open my mouth and run head first into the brick wall guarding my memories. I dig through my head for something, anything. “No,” I concede.
“That’s where you met Tate. You had an art class together, but you didn’t really hook up until after she bashed into your truck.”
He may as well be telling this as Lawson’s fairy tale because I feel no connection whatsoever to his story. As far as I’m concerned, that’s all it is: a story.
“You remember your truck, right?” Elliott continues.
Working construction, the fact that I had a truck makes sense, but I don’t remember the vehicle in the slightest. I hesitate before shaking my head.
“You had two trucks, actually: a company truck and a piece-of-crap truck. I was partial to the company truck. So were you.”
My face must certainly be blank, because that’s how my head feels. Lawson appears to be enjoying story-time.
Elliott’s interrogation continues. “Do you remember Fischer?”
“It’s cool,” he says like he’s trying to make me feel better when I don’t answer. “I don’t remember much of him either, just the parts that had to do with you and Tate. He’s my little brother and he was your pawn when you popped the question.”
“What question?”
“The Will You Marry Me question.”
“I can only imagine how that went,” Lawson says with a big, fat grin.
“What’s that suppose to mean?” I accuse.
“No offense, man, but you’re no Casanova.”
“Whatever. I bet I’d put a guy like you to shame.” My jab fails to affect Lawson’s smile.
“Believe it or not, he actually did pretty well.” Elliott turns to me. “You asked her during a game of trivia. She had no idea. I can’t believe you don’t remember her expression. She actually cried! My sister! The only other times I saw her cry were…” Elliott trails off like he’s sad. “She just didn’t do that kind of thing.”
“Oh, she’s one of those girls.” I visualize Ms. Make Believe in my head as one of those tough-girl feminists.
This angers him. I almost feel bad, but reconsider. He’s trying to make me believe in something that never happened. I’m not going to jump on the emotional crazy-train just because he is there.
I’m saved when Ryan, Meggie, and Brody head for the door. Tonight Ryan is the couple’s chauffeur to Doc Arnoldson.
To my dismay, Elliott joins us in the Doc’s office and parks himself beside Meggie on the arm of the sofa.
“Shouldn’t you be keeping an eye on Ryan?” I ask, hoping Elliott will join his Tragedy in the waiting room.
“Nah, he’s always easy when he’s close to Meg. Do you remembering anything about the music you liked?” Jeez, he’s wasting no time.
I focus on the ceiling as an answer and ignore Lawson’s laughter.
“Tate loved music. All kinds. You always bought CDs for her. Remember?”
“Elliott! No, I don’t remember! I’ll play your story-time game, but stop asking me if I remember. I don’t.” Period. The end.
“She loved music,” he whispers and then keeps his mouth shut for the rest of the session.
Watching Meggie’s eye for any indication of a twitch, I don’t have the patience in me right now to feel bad for Elliott even though I probably should.
After the appointment, the group of us ride in the SUV silently back to the house, minus Lawson, who has chosen to fly again.
Brody looks about as good as Liam did at break. He moves into the bedroom and Lawson follows.
“I can stay if you want,” Ryan says from the kitchen.
“I’m fine. You should go,” Meggie urges.
“You’re not fine.”
“I know, but you should still go. I’m sure Nancy would appreciate the help with the…” Her sobbing resumes before she can get out the painful word: kids. “Oh God, what am I going to do?”
Ryan wraps his arms around her. His presence seems to relax her, which gives me a break as well. “I wish I had an answer, Meg. I really wish I had an answer.”
That makes two of us.
I block Meggie five minutes later because her sobs don’t lessen. With so little physical strength left, she would be on the floor if Ryan wasn’t holding her up. When she calms down from my aid, Ryan talks her into going to bed.
Ten minutes later, Meggie climbs between the covers beside Brody. Since his face is covered, I can’t tell if he’s sleeping. Lawson has made himself comfortable in the corner beside the nightstand.
Ryan tucks Meggie in like she’s a child and kisses her forehead. “Try to sleep.”
She sniffs and nods.
“Max will be by tomorrow. I love you, Meg.” He smoothens her hair and gives her another kiss on the head before making his exit.
“See you guys later,” Elliott says. “I’m not giving up on your memories, man.”
Great.
An hour later, Meggie and Brody have both escaped to Slumberland with Lawson and I on watch from opposing corners of the room.
“Think Elliott will be able t
o jog your memories?” Lawson asks.
“Doubt it.”
“Me too. Trying seems to be helping him, though. It’s big of you to play along.”
I nod, inclined to think that I owe Elliott something, but can’t, for the life of me, figure out why.
The next morning, Meggie wakes up in Brody’s arms. When she nuzzles into his neck, he tightens his grip around her in such a way that no one would know the nightmare they were facing.
After a long time in this position, Brody pinches the bridge of his nose. “I don’t know how to function without the kids.”
Meggie swallows and starts to cry. “I need you more than ever. We need each other.”
When they work themselves up to getting out of bed an hour later, they both manage to shower, brush their teeth, and take their pills. In someone else’s life, this would be no big deal. In theirs, this is huge.
Janine stops by, making four trips to the car to bring in more than a dozen clear baking dishes. She stocks every shelf in the fridge and freezer. With Meggie barely eating these days, it’s a shame all that food will be wasted.
Brody snatches one of the oval dishes before Janine loads it into the fridge, grabs a fork, and shovels the pasta into his mouth. Never mind about the wasted food.
Janine stays late into the afternoon, cleaning the house, doing laundry, and paying bills. A very unhelpful Meggie follows behind her like a puppy.
Max shows up with Whitfield and joins Brody, who’s on the sofa zoning in front of the T.V. Whitfield, apparently feeling extra chatty, goes on and on about Rigby. I nod like I’m paying attention until my calimeter drones.
“See you in training,” Lawson says before the three of us displace like glowing missiles into the sky.
11. I’m trying to jump-start Grant’s memories
Training goes as well as training can, meaning I am able to keep everyone out of my head. Jonathan has taken notice and watches Lawson and I the most. Lawson’s nice enough at least. His thoughts are nowhere near as evil as Billy’s.
