Remember Me 2: The Return

by Christopher Pike

  "Is your head sore?" he asked.

  She smiled and clasped his outstretched. hand.

  "Now that you've touched it, Teddy, it's all better. Did you know you have magic hands?"

  He blinked at her pronouncement and pulled his hands back to study them.

  His eyes went wide. "What can they do?" he asked.

  "They can give love. That is their special magic. Go give Mom a hug and then you go play. Here, I'll help you down."

  Jean lifted Teddy from the table and he hurried over to the sofa where their mother lounged in front of the TV. Today was their mother's only day off. Teddy gave her the briefest of hugs before dashing out the door yelling something about showing the other kids his hands. They both laughed at him. Her mother shook her head.

  "You'll have that boy trying to heal all the kids on the block, Jean," she said.

  Jean sat beside her on the sofa. "Maybe he can," she said thoughtfully.

  Her mother continued to smile. "I don't think anyone's sick around here at the moment."

  "There's sick and there's sick," Jean muttered.

  "What do you mean?"

  Jean smiled quickly. "Nothing, just mumbling. Are you still worried about me being a candy striper? I won't go if it really upsets you."

  "I think you're still too weak to be volunteering for a job that pays nothing."

  "But if it did pay well, I would be strong enough?"

  Her mother slapped her playfully on the arm with a magazine. "That's not what I mean and you know it You should rest while you have the chance. Why did you tell the nurses you were coming in anyway? Is it so that you can see Lenny? You can see him without working."

  "I do want to be close to Lenny, that's true. But I volunteered because when I was in the hospital I saw a lot of patients who weren't getting any attention because the nurses are too overworked." Jean shrugged. "I don't want to sound like a saint. I just want to help out."

  Her mother stared at her. "But you do sound different."

  Jean started to deny it, but only nodded. "Carol said the same thing. But I don't feel any different since the accident, except for my constant headache."

  Her mother continued to watch her. "I don't believe that. You seem freer in a way. You don't walk around like you have the weight of the world on your shoulders."

  "I never used to do that."

  "Yes, you did. You were always triste. "

  Jean shrugged again. "Well, maybe I had my reasons."

  Her mother nodded. "Do you want to talk about

  it?"

  "About what?"

  "You know. Your pregnancy."

  Jean acted shocked. "Was I pregnant? God, those comas are amazing things.

  Here I slept through an immaculate conception and a miscarriage all in the same two days."

  "I was pregnant with you when I was your age," her mother said.

  Jean quieted. "I know. I thought about that a lot."

  "Before or after you had sex with Lenny?"

  Jean looked over sharply. "Only after I failed the E.P.T."

  "You took one of those? Where did you get one of those?"

  "At the same drugstore where I bought the condoms that didn't work." Jean shook her head. "They're not hard to use. All you have to do is be able to pee in a tube." Jean paused. "Why are you asking me these questions, Mom? You must know Lenny doesn't stand a chance in hell of knocking me up again."

  "I'm sorry what happened to him. You know I mean that. I'm sure he was a fine young man."

  "He still is, Mama. Being crippled hasn't changed that. Not in my book."

  Her mother touched her arm. "I'm going to say something harsh now, and you're not going to want to hear it. But I just want you to listen to me a second and think about it. I know Lenny is hurt and needs your help. You should go see him and help him in any way you can. But I think it would be a mistake for you not to see the facts for what they are. Lenny's going to be crippled for the rest of his life. At best he will be able to get around in a wheelchair. You can't let yourself get any more attached to him than you already are."

  Jean spoke calmly. "Why not?"

  "I just told you why. Because he's crippled for life. You can't be with a man like that. You'll spend all your time taking care of him."

  A tear sprang into Jean's eye, but she managed to keep her expression flat. "I like taking care of people."

  "No, you don't. You've never liked it before. You can't be with half a man."

  Jean drew in a painful breath. "First you're worried that I was pregnant. Now you're worried I want to be with someone who can't get me pregnant. What's the deal, Mom?"

  Her mother sighed. "Maybe this is not the time to talk about this. You go see him. Do what you can for him. We'll talk later."

  Jean stood and looked down at her. "I'll feel the same later. I love him. I didn't know that before, even when I slept with him, but I know now. Maybe my love can't heal him. Maybe I just lied to Teddy and there isn't any magic in this world. But at least my love makes him whole in my eyes. Lenny is not half a man." She turned away. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I think I'll wait outside for Carol. She's supposed to pick me up in a few minutes."

  Her mother sounded sad. "I don't want to fight with you, Jean. I just want to protect you."

  Jean paused at the door. "I know that. We're not fighting. We're just—arguing."

  She opened the door.

  "Have a nice day, Mama. I don't know when I'll be home."

  While waiting for Carol, Jean reflected on why those close to her were saying she had changed. There was truth in their comments. Despite Lenny's serious injury and her own wounds, she did feel lighter. Each morning she woke up anxious to start the day. Why, even the sun was brighter, the sky bluer. It was as if she had refound a childhood innocence she couldn't remember ever having enjoyed. Plus her head was filled with strange ideas she had never had before. She kept thinking of the stars and planets, dreaming of ancient civilizations, imagining vast supernatural dramas. She had begun to jot down her thoughts in a notebook, although she had no idea what she would do with them.

  "What did happen that night?" she wondered aloud.

  Carol arrived a few minutes later. She was on her way to a date with the Russian guy who worked at McDonald's, the guy with the scarred face. Seemed the guy didn't have a car. Carol was dressed to kill and excitedly smoking a joint. She offered Jean a hit the moment Jean got in the car. Jean took the joint and threw it in the garbage can at the end of their driveway.

  "Hey!" Carol protested. "I just rolled that."

  "I don't want any."

  "Well, excuse me. I want it. You could have just said no and handed it back."

  Carol started to get out of the car. "I'm getting it."

  Jean grabbed her arm and smiled. "I don't even want to have to smell it. Leave it in the can, porfavor. "

  Carol looked at her as if she were an alien creature.

  "You don't want to get loaded anymore? What'sgotten into you?"

  Jean let go of Carol and gestured to the block. "You see this street? There's graffiti on every wall. There's garbage on every lawn. Paint is peeling from the houses. Dogs and children are running wild. This is my street, but your street is just as bad."

  "So? We live on the crappy side of town. When you get rich and famous, you can move to Malibu."

  "I don't want to move to Malibu. I want to stay in this neighborhood because this is where I grew up. I want to clean up this place. I have given it a lot of thought. But I can't clean this place up by myself and, besides, it will just get dirty again because the minds of too many people around here are dirty. I know we get screwed in school. We have the worst teachers and the ugliest buildings.

  I know we get screwed at work because we're not white. But I think we're screwing ourselves with all the drugs we're taking. Look, you and I have been stoned since we were twelve. Haven't you gotten sick of it yet?"

  Carol stared at her dumbfounded. "I don't know. I guess."
/>
  "I'm sick of it. I'm not getting loaded again, ever."

  "But you'll still smoke pot now and then, won't you?"

  "Carol. I'm not taking anything. And I don't want you to, either."

  Carol was annoyed. "Right, great. If I don't want to be Miss Purity, I can't be your friend anymore. You know it, Jean, you might be nicer nowadays, but you're also turning into a royal pain in the ass."

  "I didn't say you couldn't be my friend anymore. It's just that every time you light up a joint around me, I'm going to throw it away. And you won't be able to stop me 'cause I can kick your ass any day." Jean smiled sweetly. "But I still love you, Carol."

  Carol put the car in gear. "Thank God for that."

  They headed for the hospital. The day was hot and Carol's air-conditioning hadn't worked since the last ice age. Jean rolled down her window and looked at the houses she had seen every day of her life. Somehow, it was as if she were seeing them for the first time. It was true, most of them were in poor shape, but Jean could see the potential there. Everywhere she looked, she saw all kinds of possibilities.

  "How long are you working at the hospital?" Carol asked.

  "Three hours. That's all they'll let me with my injuries, and I had to push for those."

  "Why are you doing it?"

  "So I can steal hospital drugs."

  "But you just said you don't want to get loaded anymore?"

  Jean laughed. "Mensof See what all that mota has done to your brain? I'm not going to steal drugs. I volunteered to work at the hospital because they need help. That's the only reason." Carol was impressed. "That's neat. Maybe you'll get to give some way-cool girl or guy a shot in the ass."

  Jean couldn't stop laughing. "They don't let candy stripers give shots. Certainly not to way-cool girls and guys."

  "Well, I don't know what they do."

  "Tell me what's happening with you? Why are you going out with a guy?"

  "He's not exactly normal, you know."

  "I understand that. But he is a he. That makes him different from a girl."

  Carol giggled. "That's true."

  "Look, are you still a lesbian or not? I just want to know for future reference. If you're not, then I can quit defending you."

  "Does it bother you to defend me?" Carol asked.

  "No. It turns me on. But answer my question."

  "I don't know the answer. I just know I like this guy. But I still like girls. Maybe I'm bisexual." Carol paused. "Does that gross you out?"

  "No," Jean said honestly. "It makes you complex. I like that in a boy or a girl."

  Carol nodded. "I like to think it gives me color."

  "Just remember that a guy can get you pregnant where a girl can't."

  "I have you to remind me of that." Carol paused.

  "Will you get to help Lenny today?"

  Jean sighed. "I don't know if I can help Lenny. I've seen him every day since I woke up, but he hardly talks to me. I keep thinking he'll feel better when the bones in his back have healed enough so he can start physical therapy. Lying in bed all day would depress anybody."

  "When will he be able to get into a wheelchair?"

  "Not for a while. Another couple of months."

  "That long?"

  "At least. Where his back broke, they had to fuse the spine together. That takes time to heal."

  "Will he ever walk again?" Carol asked.

  Jean hesitated. "The traditional medical answer is no. That's the answer he's supposed to learn to accept. But I don't believe it. I can't help but think his condition is only temporary." She shook her head.

  "Maybe I'm just fooling myself."

  "I hope he gets better. Hey, have you seen Darlene lately?"

  "No. She never talks to me. She never came to visit me at the hospital. What's with her?"

  "I think she still plans to go after Juan," Carol said.

  "After all that's happened? You can't be serious."

  Jean was thoughtful. "I'd like to talk to her more about what happened that night Lenny and I got hurt. You know, weird as this may sound, I don't even know if she was still there when we fell."

  "I think she was," Carol said. "I think she's the one who called the ambulance."

  "But you're not sure?"

  "No. What does Lenny say?"

  "That he can't remember."

  "Do you believe him?" Carol asked.

  Jean shrugged. "I don't know why he'd lie to me."

  She added, "We can't let Darlene go after Juan. It would be a death sentence for her."

  Carol looked worried. "Maybe for all of us."

  Carol dropped Jean off at the hospital twenty minutes later. She was going to spend the day with Scarface, and Jean assured her she could take the bus home. Actually, Jean liked riding the bus, especially since her accident. It was a good place to meet people. Her candy-striper duties were simple: she delivered meals to patients. But even this job turned out to be complex with the elderly patients. Not one but two old women thought she was their granddaughter. At first Jean denied the relationship, but when she saw how much it meant to the women to have a visit from a granddaughter, Jean decided to play along, reminiscing about events she had no memory of and adding details the women had no minds to doubt. On the whole she had the most fun with the senior citizens and children. Really, helping people got her high, and somehow she had known it would happen.

  The patient who affected her the most, though, was a teenage girl named Debra Zimmerer. She was eighteen, the same as Jean, and dying. Just before Jean delivered her food, the nurses told her that Debra had leukemia, and they felt she wasn't going to make it When Jean brought in her tray, she found Debra lying in bed and reading J.R.R. Tolkien's The Lord of the Rings, which Jean had read in the hospital. Debra was worn-out pretty, with faded brown eyes as weary as those of a sick model in an old oil painting. She was five feet five and weighed maybe eighty pounds. Jean took one look at her and felt a painful stab in her gut, but somehow she managed to smile as she set down the tray.

  "Awesome book, huh?" Jean asked.

  Debra set the fat book aside. "I guess. I'm just nearthe beginning."

  "Keep going. It keeps getting better and better. In fact, I think it's the best story I ever read." Jean lifted the lid off her plate. "Would you like something to eat? I brought you chicken, but if you don't like it they have some kind of fish."

  Debra sat up weakly. "I'm not that hungry."

  "How about something to drink? I have apple juice or orange juice or ginger ale."

  Debra nodded. "I could drink some ginger ale."

  Jean opened the can and poured Debra a glass. Debra's voice was dry, which Jean understood to be a side effect of the morphine she took to control the pain. Debra lifted it to her lips and took a sip. The act seemed to exhaust her, and she put down the glass quickly. Jean sat on the bed beside her.

  "Is there anything else I can get you?" Jean asked.

  Debra coughed. "No."

  Jean patted her on the back. "Are you OK?"

  Debra nodded and wiped at her colorless lips. "Yes."

  Jean shook her head. "That was a stupid question. I'm sorry, of course you're not OK." She paused. "I heard you have leukemia."

  Debra watched her. "Yes. It's a drag. What's your name?"

  "Jean. You're Debra, right?"

  "Yes." Debra glanced at the book. "Could you tell me how the story ends?"

  Jean forced a smile. "I don't want to do that. It'll spoil it for you." Then she stopped, hearing what Debra was really asking her. It was a long story, really three books in one. Debra was not going to live long enough to finish it and she knew it. "But if you want me to, I can. I can do it today after I finish delivering these trays."

  Debra stared at the far wall for a moment. "How about tomorrow? That would be a good day for me.

  Jean nodded. "I can come tomorrow evening and tell you the whole story." She added, without even thinking about what she was going to say, "Maybe I can tell you one of my s
tories as well."

  Debra was interested. "Do you write stories?"

  Jean shrugged. "I'm only working on one so far. It's about this famous writer and her muse. Only her muse is a troll who appears out of her bedroom closet one day and demands half her royalties. I'll tell you what I have of it so far and you can tell me whether you think I should bother finishing it."

  "OK." Debra lowered her head. "It'll be nice to have a visitor."

  "Doesn't anyone come to see you?"

  "Just my father. But I can't talk to him because he's too scared about me being sick." Debra hesitated.

  "He's afraid I'm going to die."

  Jean spoke gently. "Are you afraid?"

  Debra raised her head and wiped her nose. "Yeah. I know it's going to happen, but I'm still scared. My doctor told me." Again she stared at the far wall. "I have no idea what it's going to be like." She shrugged.

  "Maybe it won't be like anything. Maybe I'll just be dead and that will be it."

  "No," Jean said firmly. "Your body will die but you'll go on."

  Debra smiled sadly. "I wish I had your faith."

  It was Jean's turn to hesitate because she really didn't know what she wanted to say to the poor girl. But at the same time she felt compelled to speak, and she believed that what she would say would be the truth.

  "It's not that I have faith. I just know that your time of death is no more important than when you change your clothes. Don't ask me how I know. I can't explain it. The main thing is, when death comes, you don't need to be afraid. That's important. Fear is the only thing that can hold you back."

  Debra listened. "Hold you back from what?"

  "From going on to more joy. It's a lot harder to be born than to die. You'll see, and when you do, you'll say to yourself, 'That foolish girl in the hospital was right.'"

  "Are you a fool?"

  "Sure. But you know, only fools get into heaven."

  Debra grinned. "Who told you that?"

  Jean stood up quickly from the bed. Debra's question had a profound effect on her. For a moment Jean felt as if there were two of her standing in the room, one visible, the other a reflection. She felt as if she should be able to glance over her shoulder and see her other half to answer Debra's question. She felt inexplicable joy even with a dying girl watching her.