“Of course. That’s good. You should try not to put off your responsibilities,” he lectured.
“Let’s start right now,” she said eagerly.
She pulled a chair nearer to him and put her paper and pen alongside her question sheet on his desk.
“Okay, here we go,” he said and lifted the book toopen it. As soon as he did so, a picture fell out from between some pages. It floated onto his lap. “What’s this?” he asked, lifting and turning it to look.
A man who looked to be in his mid to late twenties leaned against a white Corvette. He had his arms folded across his chest. He was muscular, buff with dark brown hair and a handsome smile. He wore a tight T-shirt and jeans.
“Who’s this?” Aaron wondered aloud. He stared at the picture, desperately trying to stir up a memory. Something about the man’s face was familiar, but no recollections came back to him. “Huh?” he asked, turning to Sophie.
She was staring at the picture, too.
Only she was crying. Her tears were thick and flowing freely down her cheeks, yet she didn’t seem to know she was crying. She was just looking at the picture.
“Honey?”
She turned to him.
“Do you know who this man is?” he asked softly.
She shook her head.
“Then why are you crying, Sophie?”
She looked surprised. She touched her cheeks and then looked at her wet fingers.
“I don’t know,” she said.
. . . fourteen
aaron handed Megan the picture as soon as she entered the house and begun to take Sophie’s dinner out of the bag. Sophie was upstairs in her room, watching television. After she had begun to cry, he had quickly put the picture away and started reading her book with her, getting her mind off whatever it was that had so disturbed her. Nearly an hour later he declared they had done enough for the first day and gave her permission to watch television until Megan had returned with her dinner. Aaron heard her come in and joined her in the kitchen.“Hi,” she said without looking up from the bag she was unloading. “How’s everything?”
When he didn’t reply, she paused and turned to him. He handed her the photograph. She took it and stared at it a moment.
“Where did you find this?” she asked.
“It fell out of the book Sophie had chosen to read for a book report. I was helping her with it,” he said. “Who is that?”
She pressed her lips together as if she was trying to keep the answer locked in her mouth.
“Sophie just started to cry when she looked at it, but she said she didn’t know who he was,” he continued, pushing for the answer.
“Cry?”
“Yes. Who is he, Megan? Why did Sophie start to cry when she saw him?”
Megan sat at the table, seemingly falling into the chair as if her legs had given out.
“That’s amazing that she cried. And she couldn’t tell you who he was?” she quickly followed.
“No, Megan, she couldn’t. I got her mind off it immediately, but it was weird. So?”
She looked at the picture. “You don’t remember who he is?” she asked, still gazing at the photograph.
“Would I ask if I knew? Would I be so upset about it?”
She shook her head. “I suppose not. He’s my brother, Aaron. It’s Jason.”
“Your brother? Jason?” His eyes widened. “That’s the book the picture was in,Jason and the Argonauts.”
“Of course,” she said. “I should have remembered. He bought it for her just for that reason and put his picture in the book. Of course,” she said.
She sounded as if she was talking to herself, chastising herself.
“Sophie said I bought it for her.”
Megan continued to stare at the picture, shaking her head. “That’s terrible,” she said, “but understandable.”
“Huh? Why don’t I remember your brother?” Aaron asked.
She looked up. “There’s so much you still don’t remember, Aaron. You don’t remember your own family members, parents, your aunt. Why does this surprise you?”
“I guess you’re right. It was just such a shock. Where is he? Why didn’t you tell me about him when you told me about your parents that day we had lunch at Grandma’s Kitchen? I know you didn’t mention him,” he said quickly. “Why not?”
“Because he’s dead, Aaron,” she snapped back at him.
“Dead?”
“Sophie was only just four when he was killed. That’s why I was amazed to hear she cried, even though she was close to him. In those days he probably spent more time with her than you did. In fact,” she said almost bitterly, “he and I took her for her first time to a zoo. Then he got us tickets to seeBeauty and the Beaston Broadway, but you had a business meeting in Toledo and couldn’t come. Jason was always there for her.”
“Have I really been such a poor father?” he asked, shaking his head and sitting. He felt stunned.
“You’ve been, shall we say, otherwise occupied, Aaron.”
He looked up hopefully.
“But the funny song we sang in the car, Daddy had a little girl. We sang about places like zoos and Disney World and—”
“Poor substitution for the actual experiences, Aaron. Sophie was recalling her times with Jason when she sang along with you, whenever she sang along with you,” she added.
He swallowed hard. “What happened to him?”
“He was with the Federal Drug Enforcement Administration and was killed in Colombia in a military action that our government denies took place. It took me forever to find out anything about him. His body has never been returned. I couldn’t even give him a proper funeral,” she said, her lips quivering.
“Oh. How come I don’t see any other pictures of him?” he asked, looking around the kitchen as if there might be one hidden behind a plate or a pot.
“I have the other pictures put away. Whenever I look at a picture of him, I want to cry myself. It’s always been easier not to talk about him. That way I can convince myself he’s still alive and someday coming home. We all need some illusion.”
“Maybe he is still alive,” Aaron said quickly.
“No, Aaron. It’s been nearly five years, and anyway he was in a plane that was seen going down after it had been hit by one of those handheld missile things. I have a formal government letter about it and an expression of deep regret with a vague promise to retrieve his remains when and if it ever becomes possible. ‘I’ll be so informed at the time’ were the exact words in the letter.”
She laughed. “By now there wouldn’t be enough of his body left to bury. Don’t hold your breath,” she muttered.
“I can’t get over how Sophie just started to cry, andwhen I asked her who he was, she said she didn’t know. She didn’t even realize she was crying!”
“Her little mind won’t accept such a horrible realization as Jason’s death. We’ve had her with child therapists you know,” Megan continued.
He shook his head. “I don’t remember any of that, either.”
“It wasn’t that often or very much. She used to ask for him so much and break out in tears that I thought maybe she should see a therapist. After a while she stopped asking and stopped crying. That’s why I was so surprised to hear she cried now. When I told you how she asked you why people didn’t come back after death, I thought you’d remember all this, too, but you didn’t. Actually, I was very happy you hadn’t yet retrieved those memories.”
She wiped a fugitive tear from her cheek.
“Maybe the suddenness of seeing his picture like that revived her sad memories,” Aaron said.
“Yes,” she said quickly. “I’m sure that was it.”
“She really seemed to be struggling with his identity,” Aaron emphasized.
“I’m sure she can remember who he is but doesn’t want to. It’s too painful for her.”
“We know that’s why I don’t remember so many things,” he muttered.
“Your mind will selec
t what it’s comfortable with and what it’s not.”
He nodded. “Dr. Longstreet said something similar to that to me recently when I asked about my ability to remember my work skills, my knowledge of architecture, and yet not remember so many other things.”
“It’s only logical,” she said.
“So many things we absorb in our memory, we really didn’t like or want, but we depend on our subconscious to keep them out of sight and out of mind,” he recited.
“Sounds like you two had a very good and deep discussion about it.”
“Yes. She is impressive.”
Megan smiled. “I’m glad you feel that way.”
She gazed at the platter of chicken. “We’d better call Sophie down to dinner. The baby-sitter will be arriving in a half hour, and we’ve got to get dressed for dinner ourselves.”
“Right,” he said. “I’ll go get her.”
Megan rose and returned to the counter and the food she had brought for Sophie. He looked back at her just before he left the kitchen.
She was gazing down at the photograph, but she wasn’t crying. She looked more angry than sad.
Probably thinking about the government’s insensitivity, he thought and headed for the stairway.
Debbie’s husband Morgan seemed to be brought in from central casting. He was the quintessential stereotypical accountant, droll, slow and scrutinizing, offering little of interest or energy to their conversations at dinner. Periodically he would remove his glasses and clean them with his napkin as if they were all sitting in some fog. He became somewhat animated only when the topics touched on economic development in Driftwood. In the course of it, Aaron learned that Morgan was both Harlan Noel’s accountantand David Carpenter’s. The way in which relationships evolved and connected in this small community was impressive. He wanted to know more about it, but Aaron didn’t really get a chance to talk with Morgan until the women went to the powder room.“I heard you’re working on Harlan’s mall,” Morgan Asher said immediately.
“Yes, it’s an exciting project. Money doesn’t seem to be an issue, either. I’ve presented some fairly expensive ideas, and he hasn’t complained yet.”
“It will be filled with tenants before it’s halfway completed,” Morgan predicted with confidence, removing his glasses and wiping them one more time. “Besides,” he added in an unremarkable tone of voice, “you’re spending your own money, too.”
“Pardon me?” Aaron smiled and waited while Morgan Asher adjusted his glasses comfortably on the bridge of his nose. “What do you mean, my own money?”
Morgan Asher buttered another piece of bread and stuffed it in his mouth as if he wanted to gag himself. He chewed, gazed around, and swallowed before replying.
“You’re spending my money as well,” he said.
“I don’t understand. I thought Harlan Noel had only one partner, Mrs. Masters.”
“She’s the president of the corporation. We’re in it because our wives are in it,” Morgan Asher explained.
“Megan never has mentioned that,” Aaron said, half to himself.
“Don’t despair. I didn’t learn about my owninvolvement until I read the paperwork. But why complain about it anyway? We didn’t have to make any investment. It’s really a gift or a perk as they say.”
“How can that be? What about all the seed money required for a project like this?”
“The women put a portion of their earnings at the advertisement firm into a trust that invests in the stock market. Those investments have been paying off in a big way. If I didn’t know better, I’d say they, or Mrs. Masters in particular, have insider information half the time. They formed another S-corp for entrepreneurial enterprises such as the Driftwood Mall. It’s all on the up and up, you can be sure. I wouldn’t tolerate anything underhanded. I pride myself on my record with the IRS. I’ve never had a client lose an audit or be penalized since I’ve been an accountant,” he added with arrogance.
“So, I’m really working for myself in a way,” Aaron muttered to himself.
Morgan Asher finally cracked a smile.
“We all are, Aaron. All the time and in every possible way here.” He laughed.
“What’s so funny?”
“Don’t you get it? The slogan . . . you do your best work here. You have to. It’s yours in every way. The corporation is the biggest landlord, owns the most property, pays the most in taxes, including school taxes. In short, we have a vested interest in every business and enjoy all the success stories. Since I’ve lived here, no one has gone bankrupt or closed his business. It’s continuous prosperity, even when the national economy dips. We even have an interest in the twobanks, which is important when it comes to lending ourselves money.”
Morgan Asher laughed again. “It’s an accountant’s heaven, all the legitimate write-offs, depreciation, K-1’s.”
He buttered another piece of bread and drank some wine.
“You don’t look pleased,” he remarked.
“I didn’t know all this,” Aaron said.
Morgan shrugged. “I hear that all the time from other husbands like yourself and me, but who can keep up with it? I certainly wouldn’t if I wasn’t directly involved in the tax preparations.”
He leaned toward Aaron to lower his voice. “Before I came here to live and work, wives were always complaining to me about what they did and didn’t know concerning their own financial affairs. Husbands either neglected to tell them or didn’t care to tell them. How many widows were shocked to learn how little they had when their husbands died or how much they still owed.”
He laughed. “Here, it’s just the opposite. The wives know more about the family’s finances than half the husbands, and you know what, most of the husbands don’t complain. They just sit back, watch television on the big-screen sets, drive their big cars, go on their vacations, and do their best work in Driftwood.
“Just like me,” he added and sat back as if it was something about which he should be proud. “Never lost an audit,” he muttered.
“Tell me something,” Aaron said, seeing the women starting back toward the table.
“What?”
“Who are you related to here?”
“Related?”
“Yes, related,” Aaron pursued.
Morgan Asher shrugged. “You know Thelma Morris, the owner of Grandma’s Kitchen?”
“I don’t know her, no, but of course I’ve eaten there a number of times. Why?”
“She’s Debbie’s grandmother, through her first husband. Great meat loaf, eh?”
Aaron sat back as the women took their seats.
“How are you two getting along?” Debbie asked.
Morgan Asher shrugged again. “How does everyone get along here?” He smiled. “Just terrific. Just one happy family.”
“Good,” Debbie said.
Megan fixed her gaze on Aaron. He looked down quickly.
“You all right, honey?” she asked.
“I’m a little tired,” he said. “Big day.”
“Sure. We’ll skip dessert.”
“Go on,” Debbie said. “Take him home. We need healthy, productive husbands in Driftwood.”
“Don’t worry about the bill,” Morgan Asher said, as if on cue. “I’ll take care of it. Write-off,” he added. “We’ve been discussing business.”
“Oh?” Megan said. She and Aaron exchanged a glance, and then she stood.
“Good night,” Aaron said. “Thank you,” he told Morgan Asher.
“Thank yourself,” Morgan Asher said with a laugh.
Debbie and Megan kissed, and then Debbie kissed Aaron good night too.
“Get a good night’s rest,” she said, glanced at Megan and then smiled at him. “Well, maybe not too much rest. Pregnant women still need to know they’re loved.”
“Oh, I bet Megan knows she’s loved,” Morgan Asher said with unexpected energy and humor. They all looked at him. He laughed quietly and drank some more wine.
“Morgan’
s had a little too much. He gets that way sometimes,” Debbie whispered. “I hope he didn’t say anything to upset you in any way.”
“What could he say to upset me?” Aaron fired back at her a little too aggressively.
She glanced at Megan and then smiled at him.
“Nothing. Of course not. See you tomorrow, Megan,” she said and sat.
He and Megan started out of the restaurant. Their Corvette was brought up by the valet parking attendant, and Aaron drove them off. Megan noticed how quiet he had become.
“Are you all right? Was Debbie right to ask? When we were in the bathroom, did Morgan say anything that upset you, Aaron? You look upset,” she emphasized.
He remained quiet for a long moment and then turned to her slowly.
“I can understand your keeping some things from me, Megan, things that might complicate my problem, unpleasant things, perhaps things Dr. Longstreetadvised you to keep from me for good reason, but there are so many other things you haven’t told me about our life here, about the people here.”
She made no effort to deny it.
“Isn’t it more fun for you discovering it yourself?” she asked with a smile.
He raised his eyebrows. Was she serious?
“No, not when I look stupid in the process,” he replied.
“Oh, I’m sorry. What exactly did Morgan Asher tell you? The man can be such a horse’s ass.”
“He told me about your participation in some corporation engineered by Mrs. Masters and how that corporation has an interest in practically every business in town, especially the mall. When I told you Harlan Noel had revealed Mrs. Masters corporation was involved, you never said you, we, were part of that. And don’t say you kept it from me because you didn’t want me to think I deserve the assignments I’m getting,” he added quickly.
“That’s not the reason. I didn’t know about it myself at the time you mentioned it.”
“What? I don’t understand. You’re part of this corporation, right?”
“It’s all so complicated, Aaron. I’m just learning about the projects the corporation is involved in, and I thought it was better for you if I waited before loading you down with everything, too. You’re working on some elaborate projects. You’re under a doctor’s care. You’re just getting acclimated to a new community. I didn’t want to add to the burden, especially when it’s all still so new to me as well. Sorry,” she said. “You canattend the next corporate meeting if you like and learn all you want. Honest, I don’t know the half of it yet, and frankly, I find all of it quite boring.”
Amnesia Page 19
