by Jamie Knight
Fake or not, it was at least cordial. I consider making light conversation with her but think better of it. It’s just so boring here, without any adult conversation.
The children do what children do, I assume, and the parents just sit around on their phones. It’s a nonsensical dance of sorts.
Alice didn’t bring a bucket and shovel with her (does she even own one?) so she asks to share with another girl. They get along fine until Alice starts to get greedy with the toys. It’s a situation I dread having to break up.
The mom gets up from the bench and walks over.
“Emma, let’s go,” the woman calls out.
“But she has my bucket!” Emma cries out back.
The mom looks over at me and out of resignation I step in.
“Alice, give her back the bucket,” I say. “We need to go, too.”
“No! I don’t want to go!” she yells back at me.
Emma starts to fake cry. I feel some sympathy, since it’s her toy, after all. I can feel her mom stare at me. It’s like two lasers burning a hole right through me.
“Alice, give Emma back her toys,” I say, while raising my voice. “We... have... to... go.”
Alice drops the bucket and starts crying. Emma stops crying and sees this as an opportunity to get her toy back. She nabs it and immediately seems to feel better.
Her victory is short-lived, however, as her mom reaches in and grabs her by the arm. Alice sees this action and quickly goes quiet.
I want to do the same thing and grab Alice but I know I can’t.
“Let’s go, Alice,” I sternly say.
She finally pushes herself up out of the sand and kicks some of it for good measure. It’s kind of a petty move, but she’s 5. Kids her age probably act like this all the time.
You’d have to really feel a calling to be a parent. I must not want to do it because I’m apparently busy cliff diving or hang gliding or floating in Zero-G. That sort of dangerous activity really can’t be done by a responsible parent.
Alice finally relents, and we make our way out of the park. She doesn’t run this time. Her energy level must be down.
“I’m thirsty,” she says.
“We’ll get something back at the house,” I promise.
“But I’m thirsty now,” she complains.
She starts to make this funky noise like she’s choking from lack of water, but I ignore it. Kids sure do have weird ways of arguing for what they want. At least it’s direct. From what I can tell, adults use subterfuge, extortion and other nefarious methods to elicit responses and achieve desired goals.
We walk down the sidewalk and start to feel more protective. I ask Alice to walk to the right of me, so I can shield her from any cars.
“You mean a car could jump off the road and get us?” she asks inquisitively.
It’s not the first cute thing she’s said all day but it’s incredibly welcome right now. I want to laugh, but know it’s better to be serious, because safety along the road is actually a matter of life and death.
“Yes, you never know what cars might do,” I start to explain. “So always be sure to look around and see what they’re doing.”
Alice does the most adorable thing ever and looks around.
“No cars,” she says. “Does that mean we’re safe?”
Okay, now I get it a little bit: These moments probably make having a kid seem pretty awesome. It’s also fun, explaining things to them when they listen, or at least pretend to.
“Yes, we are safe,” I answer. “But you have to keep an eye out. Cars are always appearing out of nowhere.”
I hope I don’t give her nightmares. I wonder if Cassie talks this bluntly with her or if she sugarcoats everything. And I wonder again why I care.
I probably won’t see her or Alice ever again after I get well and can officially start my life again. This is just an interlude. A distraction. A way to pass time before I go on more real adventures.
“So why do people drive cars if they’re so dangerous?” she asks.
Yes, she sure is an inquisitive one!
“Adults need to get to their jobs,” I say, “or the store, or to see friends and cars make it easier and faster to do so.”
Now I’m parenting! I bet I could actually do this.
“Seems funny,” she says. Kids adopt a certain tone when they suddenly think they’re an expert on something. “I’m just a kid. I don’t think I ever want a job!”
“You might say that now,” I offer, “but when you’re older you need money to buy food and clothes––” I stop because this concept clearly confuses her. “You need a job so you can get more toys. They stop giving them to you at a certain age.”
“Oh, well that makes sense,” she admits.
We are now across the street from the house.
“What does you mom tell you to do when you are about ready to cross the road?” I ask.
“Look both ways,” she says. And she does, again, in an utterly adorable way. “All clear!”
She grabs my hand and pulls me forward. It feels a bit awkward, but cool that she finally trusts me a bit. We race over the asphalt and onto the pavement, up the driveway to the front door. I search my pocket for the key and finally find it. I guess that’s why keychains are so valuable to have as keys tend to get lost. Another piece of information rediscovered.
We go inside and I ask if she wants something to drink.
“Juice!” she screams out while running for the kitchen.
I go to the fridge and get a Capri-Sun for her. She grabs it and runs to the living room, picks up the remote and plops on the couch. She turns the tv on blares it loud. It’s some animated program.
“Alice, you should really ask permission before watching TV,” I say.
“But Mommy lets me do it all of the time!” she says in a way that is half whining, half plea.
“You might be right,” I say, “but I’d appreciate it if you asked me first. I’m not your mother or father or anything like that. Usually in this situation you check with the other person before doing something.”
“That’s right, you’re not my dad,” she says in a sassy tone. “You’re Devon, and I don’t have to listen to you.”
Alice is now really testing me again. But maybe this is actually good. It helps keep my mind off of Charles, Cassie, Amanda and all of the other adults who are making me feel like a child.
I’m a grown man, for God’s sake. Yes, a grown man who doesn’t know exactly who he is, but someone who is definitely old enough to vote and have a drink.
There are some things I can control. I go over and take the remote and turn off the TV. Alice starts to cry but they seem like crocodile tears.
“Turn it back on!” she screams.
“No,” I say sternly. “You have to ask before you do something.”
“I’m going to tell Mommy you’re a meanie when she comes home!” she says while pointing at me.
“Alice, listen to me,” I say sternly, “No TV for thirty minutes. And if you talk, it will be an hour. Understand?”
She suddenly stops talking. Sure, she is looking at me with the angriest face ever, but it worked. Hey, I did it. I was able to lay the law down. I have to admit, I’m rather proud of myself.
She doesn’t have any history with me. She’s not walking on eggshells around me because I have amnesia. She doesn’t care about that: She just wants to watch tv and get her way! And I stopped her. Maybe I shouldn’t be proud of that, but I am.
Cassie has been gone for quite a while now. I guess I should have an angry face, just like her daughter does right now, but I don’t. I feel pretty good.
I got a chance to get outside, interact with some people, and Alice never looked at me funny because I don’t remember much of anything. This is the best I’ve felt since leaving the hospital!
Chapter Eleven
Cassie
As I pull into the driveway, I’m a mixture of excitement, anticipation and anxiety. I hope that Devo
n isn’t mad at me for being gone so long, but the meeting went so well, and I really had no other choice. I think he’ll be cool about it.
I open the door, step inside, and am instantly shocked to see Alice sitting on the couch across from the TV that is turned off, crying. The black screen tells me all I need to know: This is some form of punishment.
“What the hell is going on here?” I demand.
“Mommy!” Alice cries out. “I just want to watch TV and Devon won’t let me! He was being so mean to me. He’s a jerk. A big jerk!”
She runs over and hugs my leg. I twist my fingers through her hair trying to calm her.
“That’s not a nice word to use,” I tell her, even though I have to admit it’s pretty funny, since I myself had told Amanda the very same thing about Devon.
“Why don’t you go upstairs, sweetie?” I ask her. “I’m sure your dolls are waiting to have a tea party.”
She gives me a quick, “Okay, mommy!” and dashes off.
I fold my arms in front of my chest and glare at Devon.
“Look, I just thought she needed a time-out. And she was running around the park all wild––” Devon starts before I cut him off with a wave of my hand.
“Wait a minute, you took her to the park?” I ask incredulously.
I’m furious. All I asked him to do was watch her for a little while, not take her outside on a field trip. I guess I should have known better than to trust a guy who probably can’t even take care of himself.
“Everything went fine,” he says. “She’s a good kid. But when it was time to come back to the house, Alice threw a tantrum and didn’t want to leave. And when we got here, she acted kind of bratty and she demanded to watch tv. So, I said no.”
“You don’t have the right!” I say in a raised voice.
How dare he discipline my little girl? She doesn’t even know him. Then again, I’m the one who left her with him, but that doesn’t mean he had to act so strict to her.
“She was probably just a little scared being with someone she didn’t know and then reacted that way,” I tell him.
“Sure, she’s a perfect angel,” Devon lets out.
He rolls his eyes.
“She’s just a kid, Cassie. I’m not a parent, so I don’t know what it’s like to raise a kid. Maybe I shouldn’t have said yes to watching her, but hey, I wanted to help. That counts for something, right? And besides, you were gone a lot longer than you said you would be. She was a little bored and the park is just up the street, so we went.”
Oh, so he’s turning it around on me now. This is the same old Devon! He never takes responsibilities for his actions.
“You haven’t changed at all,” I say.
“Now that’s not fair,” he says defending his position. “How would I even know that?”
“I don’t know!” I yell in exasperation.
“It’s no wonder you’re single!” he yells. “And no wonder we never got along in the past. I don’t know what you were like back when we knew each other, but you’re a pain in the ass now.”
Without another word, he storms up the stairs to his room.
Suddenly alone, I walk into the kitchen to collect my thoughts. Devon always makes me so mad. He’s so self-centered and only does what he wants, without regard to how other people think or feel.
I clench my hands into fists and try to take a few deep breaths to calm down. When that doesn’t work, I pour myself a glass of water and sit down to drink it.
God, I remember this one time my high school friends and I went to the haunted farm for Halloween. It was one of those farms on the outskirts of town, in which they turned the whole property into an autumn themed park of sorts.
They’d converted the cornfield into a maze and the barn into a scary attraction. There was a DJ spinning music in a shed. A guy in a mummy costume walked through the crowds. A zombie parade happened every hour on the hour and it was announced by ominous bells over the sound system.
The owners did a really nice job putting it all together. No wonder we were always so excited to go there. We couldn’t stop talking about it for days leading up to the night we bought tickets. And yes, we paid extra and got the fast-pass so we could skip ahead in line.
Anyway, the group of friends I went with asked Devon along. He sort of hung out with all types of people, although his high school pack loyalty was to the preppies and jocks. But sometimes he did spend time with different cliques. And there were so many running about in our high school.
My friends and I were band nerds. I had to dress up in my marching outfit and go to the all the football games. And of course, Devon was there, being the jock that he was — or perhaps he still is — so he knew us.
Damn, he was ripped. Still is, from what I saw this morning. Anyway, I loved dressing up in outfits and marching on the field. I loved it. I really did. It was fun to be a part of something. I really miss those days sometimes.
Devon was a jock, sure, but he didn’t look down on us band folks. He probably didn’t think we were very cool, and surely would never admit if he did believe so.
But he treated the group mostly okay most of the time. And I think he knew he would have a better time going to the haunted farm with us rather than some rowdy athletes. So that’s how it ended up he went with us that evening.
After we got our wristbands signifying that we had the fast-pass, we immediately made our way to the haunted barn. There was a long line out front, but we skipped it, which made us feel pretty darn awesome. No one likes waiting in lines.
Once we went in, we all stuck together. I screamed at a few of the well-timed scares. Devon, however, didn’t show any fear at all.
There were a few different rooms. The first one was an alien autopsy scene, complete with the grey Roswell extraterrestrial and freaky laser show. The second was a lunatic asylum. The third was a hospital.
At one point in this room, a creepy doctor with fake blood all over his smock jumped from behind a fake corpse. I fell back right into Devon, who grabbed me to make sure I didn’t land on my butt.
His arms immediately felt so protective around me. I pulled away and laughed. He smiled.
“I’ll keep you safe,” he said.
What braces-clad teenage girl forgets a line like that? I still blush, thinking about it.
We kept moving ahead through the barn until we finally reached the next room. In the hallway, a guy with a fake chainsaw kept running around screaming and chasing people. It was in good festive Halloween fun mode.
Somewhere along the way, Devon and I got separated from the group. I could hear them calling out to us in the distance, but since it was a fun house, we didn’t really know where they went off to.
We stopped in a rather dark section only lit by a single flashing light bulb. We looked at each other and he leaned down to kiss me. It was my first kiss. It was short and sweet, but it felt magical.
I wanted to say something or kiss him more, but it was then that our group finally caught up to us. We didn’t get the chance to be alone again.
After that night, Devon started being mean to me at school. It was very confusing. I had thought he liked me, but maybe he had changed his mind. He also shunned the band nerds for a while — with no explanation.
Maybe he’s just always been like that: hot and cold. Super sweet, then super mean. I thought that maybe because of the amnesia he might have broken free of that quality. But no, he’s still the same old Devon he was back then.
I would have preferred it if he had had some sense of consistency. If he had just been a jock, I could have written him off. But no, he had to come over into our band nerd world and play some games.
I used to think it actually made him worse than a bully or creep. He showed some genuine charm and seemed to be having a good time. So why turn on us? Why turn on me?
It’s almost unforgivable. And now with Alice, he was so nice to watch over her and then he turned domineering and nasty.
Or did he?
Maybe I still hold a grudge from those high school days. The grudges we keep sadly inform our decisions in the present.
I wish I could let it go. But I just can’t. I have to get rid of him. He absolutely has to leave. If for no other reason than the fact that I just can’t take this back and forth going on in my head about him.
Chapter Twelve
Cassie
Sure enough, at half-past noon, Amanda finally wakes up. She groggily enters the kitchen and proceeds to make a latte, using the fancy espresso machine that she and Charles co-own.
I don’t know what that kind of life is like that: to just rise lazily and nonchalantly get a coffee. Every single day feels like a struggle for me. While she was sleeping off her hangover, I was out running around trying to secure work, so I can provide stability for myself and my little girl.
I try not to think such bitter or jealous thoughts. I know life has dealt me a different hand than it has my friend. I also know I’m just feeling stressed, because I had finally had a good morning and even gotten some work, only to return to find this Devon situation to deal with.
But really, I know I should give Amanda a few minutes to get her day going before hitting her with the news. She’s not a “morning” person, and even though it’s technically the afternoon, I’m sure it still feels like the morning to her, since she just woke up, and is likely hungover to boot.
Plus, I don’t think she takes the blunt approach very well. I need to figure out the best timing. I am a saleswoman, after all. I have to sell us remaining here while making sure Devon leaves.
“Good morning, hon,” Amanda says. “Oh my, we really had a time last night, didn’t we?”
“Ummmm, yes,” I reply. “It was quite something.”
Amanda goes to the fridge and pulls out a carton of milk.
