Amnesia

by Andrew Neiderman

  “Dr. Longstreet didn’t want me to dote on things like that,” he admitted.

  “But now you’re doing it anyway.” She nodded, grimacing with a look of chastisement that rivaled any primary schoolteacher’s. He had to look away from those angry eyes.

  “That’s great, Aaron. Just keep doing the opposite of what your doctor, your expert doctor, tells you to do. Just keep prolonging this problem and making your life and my life and Sophie’s life miserable.”

  “All right. It happened. You weren’t there at the time. It was quite a dramatic scene, Megan.”

  “Put it out of your mind,” she ordered, her eyes small, angry. “And certainly, most certainly, don’t hold it against Dr. Longstreet or permit it to challenge your confidence and trust in her.”

  He looked up. Her voice was uncharacteristically hard, threatening.

  “You’re suffering an unfortunate medical condition,Aaron. I know. I appreciate your anxiety, but every once in a while, I wish you would stop and consider what I’m going through, what Sophie is going through, and now, especially now when I’m pregnant, too. As difficult as it might be for you, I wish you would be a little more caring and a little less selfcentered. Maybe that would stop your paranoia,” she added. “Maybe you would have a little more faith in me, too.”

  “I have faith in you, Megan. I’m sorry. Damn,” he said, shaking his head. This was exactly what Dr. Longstreet had advised him to consider. He felt like such a cad.

  “All right, Aaron. All right. Let’s end it quickly. Look at all this,” she said, holding her arms out again. “You’ve got a wonderful new life. It’s all coming together. We’re going to have a new baby. Please, honey. No more doubts about us, or our doctor, okay?”

  “Okay, Megan. I’ve got to get to work,” he said.

  “Me, too,” she said, smiling. “Now that Mr. Carpenter has called you, I’d better be sure we do a great job for him at the advertising firm.”

  “I suppose I’ll have to thank Mrs. Masters for this as well,” he said.

  “And you’ll get your chance. We’ve been invited to her home for Thanksgiving dinner a week from next Thursday night.”

  “Oh,” he said without enthusiasm.

  “What?”

  “Nothing. I just imagined we would have our own little family thing.”

  “We will, but Mrs. Masters invited us, Aaron, and really, when you think about it, she doesn’t have any other family. We’re her family now. All of us,” she added.

  “Right,” he said.

  She kissed him. “Have a good day honey. I’ll call you after lunch so you can tell me all about the Carpenter project.”

  “Okay, Megan,” he said and kissed her again.

  She stared into his eyes for a moment, but so intensely, he had to smile.

  “What do you see?” he asked.

  “Our future,” she said. “Clear as could be.”

  He watched her go, and then, feeling ashamed and guilty, he turned to his work station determined to be cooperative and trusting and make Megan happy and proud of him.

  He really was determined to do that, but when he sat back and thought quietly for a moment, he had to confess to himself at least that his heart wasn’t completely in it.

  Not yet.

  And that was like a lingering toothache, annoying, but also still threatening.

  The lunch with David Carpenter took his mind off any of his personal problems. David was a goodlooking, thirty-eight-year-old, dark-haired man with extraordinary brown eyes the color of burnt toast. He had a slim, athletic build and was about as tall as Aaron. He did have a virile, sportsman’s energy about him, a strong handshake, a vibrant gait with firmposture. With his robust complexion completing the picture, David Carpenter looked as if he belonged on the cover of some health magazine. His energy carried into everything he did and said. When he spoke about his vision for his enterprise, those eyes became so charged Aaron couldn’t look away for a moment. David Carpenter’s excitement was that infecting, mesmerizing.They had their lunch in a restaurant called the Rider’s Inn, modeled after an English pub, the bar filled with brass, the walls and tables old dark hickory with all sorts of English memorabilia, riding implements, leather saddles, old boots, hats, antique guns, and humorous plaques and signs from the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries on the walls. One sign forbid the entrance of women with too much bosom showing. Another warned about the plague that had nearly wiped out the city of London.

  For lunch he and David even had shepherd’s pie and glasses of stout.

  “You see how important the ambience is,” David pointed out after Aaron remarked how delightful it was to be having lunch at the Rider’s Inn. “The same food, quality, and preparation could be served to us down at Grandma’s Kitchen, and it wouldn’t taste as good or as interesting to us, would it?”

  “Exactly,” Aaron agreed.

  “I’m not saying the food is bad there. It’s very good, homemade taste, all of that, but it’s a different feeling, a different culinary experience,” David rattled on.

  “Yes, it is,” Aaron agreed.

  “Ambience affects customers in stores as well. If they feel the place has quality, the merchandise has quality. If the establishment is interesting, exciting, so is the merchandise,” David continued. “But I don’t have to tell you any of this. You know it well. I’ve seen your work.”

  “You have? Where?”

  “Sandburg Village,” David replied. “That’s why I thought you’d enjoy lunch here today, the Old English concept.”

  “You saw that, too?” Aaron smiled. “Harlan Nolan saw it. You know I’m doing his mall?”

  “Of course, but it’s not unusual for me to look at malls, Aaron. I’m always considering places for my stores,” David said, “and if something strikes me as interesting, I find out everything about it and the people who created it. When I learned that you were living here now, I was very excited.”

  “Thank you,” Aaron said, still amazed at how famous he was to some people here.

  “I don’t want to steal you away from Harlan, but I’m sure you can give your attention to more than one thing at a time, right?”

  “I think so,” Aaron said. “I’m pretty far along with the mall anyway.”

  “Good.” David sat back, contented. He smiled. “Driftwood is just a great place to live and work. People are decent to each other here. There’s a real sense of community. It harks back to another time, another age.”

  “Yes,” Aaron said. He was convinced of that. “How long have you lived here?”

  “Going on ten years. My wife and her younger sister inherited their parents’ home when they were killed on holiday in Europe. They were on that ferryboat that sank in the English Channel. You might remember that. Two hundred and twenty people died.”

  Aaron nodded. “Yes, I do recall that.”

  How true it is that I can recall historical events, even relatively recent ones. There’s that selective memory again, he thought.

  “Anyway, the house was too beautiful to sell, and Keely’s heart was set on us living in it. Laurie was already living back here, working for the Masters advertising firm.”

  “Laurie? Laurie Corkin is your sister-in-law?”

  “Yes, have you met her?”

  “Of course. My wife is working for Mrs. Masters, too. Laurie helped us move into our new home.”

  “Really? I didn’t know that,” David said.

  “You didn’t know that? How could you not know that?” Aaron asked with a puzzled smile.

  David thought a moment and then shrugged. “Maybe I was told, but forgot. I’m so busy these days, I can’t remember the simplest things sometimes.” He leaned over to whisper. “You know, I was in Stanford, having lunch with a buyer last week, and we got to talking about our younger days, and suddenly, for no reason, I drew a blank on my college days. I couldn’t recall a single teacher’s name, not that I was any sort of a good student. I nearly flunked out.”
/>   Aaron stared at him. “What did you do?” he finally asked.

  “About what?”

  “Remembering their names?”

  “Oh.” He sat back again and waved down the story. “It came back after a few more minutes, some of them, at least. I’m sure they’ve all forgotten me, long forgotten,” he added with a laugh. “What’s the difference now? The important thing is to remember what you’re doing today and what you’ll be doing tomorrow, and Aaron, I hope you’ll be doing my project,” he added.

  Aaron nodded slowly. David began to talk about it again, and they were both soon back into the concept, brainstorming as Aaron scribbled some lines and expressed a flood of ideas. The excitement regained its position at the forefront of his thoughts. In fact, when they parted, Aaron left so charged up that he really did fear he would have trouble concentrating and redirecting his attention to finish the mall project.

  He got right to work when he returned and was even annoyed at the ringing of the phone interrupting. He answered too abruptly for Megan.

  “You shouldn’t say, yeah, Aaron. You should say Clifford and Associates or something,” she corrected.

  “I don’t have any associates.”

  “You will. I’m sure of it,” she told him. “How was lunch? Did you like David?”

  “Yes, he’s very nice and energetic as hell. You forgot to tell me he’s Laurie Corkin’s brother-in-law,” he said. “Or are you going to tell me you didn’t know that?”

  “I knew it, but I didn’t want you to think you were getting these jobs solely because of people we knew or people Mrs. Masters knew. David Carpenter has seen your work. When Laurie told him you were living herenow, he got excited about you himself. Shoot me,” she said.

  “I wasn’t angry about it. I was just curious,” he explained. She was quiet a moment. “Really.”

  “How many times do I have to remind you that you’re in a small community now, Aaron? People know people, people have business relationships with each other. Word of mouth is more effective than anything.”

  “You shouldn’t be saying that,” he quipped.

  “Why not?”

  “You’re working for an advertising firm, aren’t you?” he asked with a laugh. “If it took only word of mouth, you’d be out of a job.”

  She laughed, too, but more nervously, he thought.

  “Well, we’re experts in gossip.”

  “I believe that. Now that I think of it, women do make better advertising executives.”

  “Don’t be so smug, Mr. Man,” she warned. “Men are bigger blabbermouths than you think. I bet you and David had a field day talking about Laurie.”

  “No. Why would we?”

  “David didn’t talk about her being young and beautiful and currently unattached?”

  “No.”

  “And being a flirt?”

  “Never mentioned a word. He was too excited about his project to talk gossip.”

  “Okay. If it’s all right with you, I thought we’d join Debbie and Morgan Asher for dinner tonight. We’ve got reservations at the Lighthouse. You’ll enjoy it.”

  “Have you been there before?”

  “No, of course not,” she said quickly.

  “Then how do you know I’ll enjoy it?”

  “From what I’ve been told, Aaron. Jesus. I really do have to watch every word I say these days, don’t I?”

  “I was—”

  “Just curious, I know. Can you pick up Sophie today? I promised her I would, but I have to do something for Mrs. Masters.”

  “Sure. I hope she’s not nervous about riding with me since the last time,” he added.

  “She hasn’t mentioned it once, has she?”

  “No,” he said. He thought about it a moment. It was as if his daughter suffered from periodic amnesias as well. “That is amazing.”

  “It’s not so amazing, Aaron. Dr. Longstreet had a nice talk with her about it. Sophie is a very, very bright little girl. The doctor was very impressed.”

  “I don’t remember that,” he said. “When did she have this talk?”

  “Right afterward, Aaron. In fact, it was her idea. Her exact words were ‘We’ve got to treat emotional trauma with the same urgency we would treat a serious wound to the body. There’s a bleeding that has to be stopped with emotional trauma, too.’”

  “You’re very good at quoting people, Megan,” he said.

  “You say that often, Aaron. What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Nothing. I was just impressed. Now who’s beginning to sound paranoid?” he replied.

  She was quiet again, and then she laughed.

  “I always forget how clever you are, Aaron, how witty.”

  “It amazes me how many memory problems people around here suffer,” he muttered. “I’m beginning to feel less and less unusual.”

  “Oh, you’re unusual, Aaron. You’re very unusual,” she said in a seductive tone. “Later, we’ll remind you of it.”

  Now he laughed. “You’re pregnant, Megan. You’ve got to be less passionate.”

  “My doctor says it’s fine. She believes it makes the fetus feel wanted more.”

  “How’s that?”

  “His or her daddy keeps sticking his head in to look around.”

  He roared. “You’re a madwoman!”

  “That’s why you love me so. Don’t forget Sophie,” she warned.

  “I’ll write it on my palm this minute.”

  “Good. See you about six. Tell her I’ll be picking up a basket of fried chicken for her. She loves it,” she said and hung up.

  He shook his head and laughed to himself over some of the things she had said. Then he returned to work and did indeed almost forget to go for his daughter. At the last minute he noticed the time and rushed out so quickly, he neglected to turn off lights. Later, the Driftwood police would call to ask why they were all on.

  At school he went directly to the sign-out sheet. The principal’s secretary had already called Sophie out of class, anticipating his arrival.

  “Your wife phoned ahead,” she explained when he looked surprised. “It’s always nice when parents consider what we have to do.”

  “Right. Thank you,” he said.

  Sophie, who had been sitting patiently, rose and reached for his hand.

  “Have a good day in school?” he asked her on the way out.

  “Yes, Daddy. I have homework,” she announced with pride.

  “Really? What is it?”

  “I have to read one of my books that I have at home and write down what it was about. I have these questions to answer,” she said, showing him the assignment sheet.

  He glanced at it and nodded.

  “Very good,” he said.

  “Will you help me?”

  “Sure. You choose the book and we’ll get right on it,” he promised.

  He watched her closely when he sat her in the car and helped her buckle her safety belt. She didn’t seem in the least nervous.

  “Too cold now for the top down,” he explained.

  “I know. It’s all right. I’ll look out the window,” she said.

  He started the engine, glancing at her from time to time as they drove off. She talked about her school day, her friends, and a video they had watched on the human body. Her vocabulary amazed him. Megan was right, of course, their daughter was exceptional. He felt guilty about not noticing more about her, not spending enough time with her.

  “Maybe we can get started on the tree house this weekend, Sudsy, okay?”

  “Okay, Daddy.”

  “Sorry I haven’t gotten to it before.”

  “I understand, Daddy. You’re busy starting a new life for us.”

  “Yes,” he said, laughing. “Exactly. Anyway, you and I will work up the plans Friday and then go get the materials we need on Saturday morning. Of course, we’ll have to pick out a good tree first.”

  She laughed. “We already picked it out, Daddy.”

  “What?”
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br />   “We picked out the tree, remember?”

  “No,” he said, shaking his head. “You’re probably thinking about the old tree house.”

  “No, I’m not, Daddy. I’ll show you the tree as soon as we get home,” she promised.

  He glanced at her.

  “You’re so silly sometimes, Daddy,” she said.

  He nodded.

  How could he have forgotten that? He couldn’t. She was confused for sure, he thought and sped up.

  When they pulled into the garage, she got out and led him around the house. At the right corner she stopped and pointed.

  “There it is, Daddy. You said it was perfect.”

  He stared at the large old maple.

  Maybe she dreamed it, he thought. Maybe she saw the tree and imagined they had chosen it together. His instincts told him not to continually deny it and cause her to feel foolish, but it was a good tree for their purpose.

  “Oh, right,” he said. “Perfect.”

  As soon as they went into the house, she ran upstairs to get one of her books. He made himself a glass of iced tea and sat in his home office, waiting for her. He sat there, sipping the tea and staring at the photograph of him, Megan, and Sophie. That picture continued to bother him. Something about it made him feel as if he was an observer at the time. Why the hell was he standing behind them like that? What an unusual posture for a family shot.

  Sophie burst into his office, excited about her assignment.

  “What did you choose?” he asked.

  She set the book down in front of him. It was a children’s version ofJason and the Argonauts.

  “Wow.” He opened the cover. It was a good-size book, and just a glimpse at the writing on the first page told him the vocabulary was for an older child. “Are you sure this is one of your books, honey?”

  “Yes, Daddy. You gave it to me,” she said.

  “Oh. Well, you can’t do this all in one night, Sudsy,” he told her.

  “I know that, Daddy,” she said, laughing as if he were the child and she were the adult. “We don’t have to have it done until next week, but I want to start it,” she insisted.