Shattered Memories

by V. C. Andrews

  I wasn’t listening now. I was feeling sick and even chilly. Claudia checked the hallways again, and they practically carried me back to our room and got me into bed. My skin felt like it was on fire. I tried to get up, but they held me down.

  “You’re going to feel like hell tomorrow,” Marcy predicted when I started to laugh again. She made me drink some water, and then they loosened their grips on me, but sat beside me on my bed.

  “What should we do?” Claudia asked.

  “What do you think? We’ll take turns keeping her in bed. Two of those aren’t that much.”

  “According to Rob, that is. He’s not exactly a good source of information, Marcy.”

  “Let’s hope he is this time,” she said.

  I listened to them both, moving my head from one to the other in short, exaggerated motions that eventually made them both laugh.

  “How are we going to keep her quiet?” Claudia asked.

  “I could lie over her,” Marcy facetiously suggested, “and smother her.”

  Suddenly, I felt achy and tired and closed my eyes. My body relaxed.

  “The vomiting helped,” I heard Claudia say.

  “I’ll go get out of my clothes and come back,” Marcy told her. “Stay right beside her.”

  I had short stabs of energy for a while and laughed, but then my head began to ache, and I closed my eyes.

  “Watch the window,” I told Claudia. “He’s out there.”

  “Who?”

  “Secrets,” I said. Then I laughed, closed my eyes, and drifted off, but not for long. Marcy was back when I woke again and sat next to me for a while before lying down beside me. Claudia went to the bathroom, returned, and got into her pajamas, too. The three of us eventually all fell asleep on my bed, Claudia sprawled across the bottom and Marcy curled up at my side. Sometime during the night, Claudia went to sleep in her own bed. I woke many times, but I did not get up. I couldn’t remember why Marcy was there, but I chose to fall back asleep rather than think about it.

  When I woke again, Marcy was dressed in jeans and a school sweater, sipping a cup of coffee and looking down at me. Claudia was still asleep.

  “Here,” Marcy said. “Drink a little of this.”

  I groaned, sat up, and sipped. I thought it tasted putrid.

  “This is going to feel like the worst day of your life,” she predicted.

  I shook my head. “I’ve already had that day,” I said.

  But she was right. My mood swings went from episodes of energy to dark depression. I had no appetite and ate a minuscule amount for breakfast. Once Claudia was up, she and Marcy took turns watching me take short naps and then keeping me from going out to run across campus every time I threatened to do so. I felt that energetic at times. Finally, late in the afternoon, I began to settle down.

  Marcy brought me some oatmeal and toast and more coffee.

  “You should take a good long shower now,” she advised. “You’ll sleep tonight.”

  “Thanks.” I ate most of what she brought.

  Claudia returned and shook her head when Marcy looked to her with some expectation. She had gone out to see if anyone knew anything about what I had done the night before, I thought. They were careful not to attract any attention. Most of the girls were busy doing their homework anyway.

  “What happened, Kaylee? Why did you come back here and take the Ecstasy? Did something bad happen between you and Troy Matzner?” Marcy asked.

  “I don’t remember. Troy who?”

  She looked at Claudia. “Okay. I warned you about him, Kaylee. I’m not surprised.”

  “Fools rush in where angels fear to tread,” I muttered.

  “What?”

  “She’s quoting Alexander Pope again,” Claudia said.

  “Great.” Marcy’s eyes widened with a new thought. “Did you do all the science and history homework before you went out with him?”

  “Yes,” I said.

  She smiled. “At least something went right yesterday.”

  I wanted to laugh but closed my eyes instead. After another nap, I rose, took the long shower Marcy had prescribed, and tried to get myself organized for tomorrow’s classes. The prospect of going to dinner still seemed enormous. Claudia told me she would bring back a sandwich and a drink for me.

  “We’ll tell everyone something you ate for dinner last night upset your stomach. Don’t worry about it.”

  “Thanks.”

  I tried to do a little reading, but my eyes were just too heavy, and the words seemed to liquefy on the page, running into one another. How long would this last? I wondered. And why would anyone want to go through it?

  I did eat the entire sandwich Claudia brought me. She sat watching me and then described her and Marcy’s date at Fun City and afterward and how much more she liked Ben. I couldn’t help thinking that I had concluded too quickly that she was going to be the loser here and I would have to work at keeping her stable and happy. The irony of the reversed roles wasn’t lost on me, and from the way Marcy talked about their good time, it wasn’t lost on her, either.

  They repeatedly tried to get me to tell them about my date, but I just said it was okay and refused to give them any details. Claudia said Troy wasn’t in the cafeteria for dinner.

  “At least tell us if you’re going to see him again,” Marcy pleaded.

  “I’ll see him,” I said.

  “What’s that mean?”

  “Let’s just leave it at that,” I said.

  They looked at each other, shrugged, and went on to talk about their date and their boyfriends.

  Maybe this was my fate, I thought, to listen to everyone else’s good time and think about happiness the way we thought about a distant star. It looked beautiful, but you could do nothing more than gaze at it and dream.

  I did see Troy the next day, of course. He didn’t come to breakfast, but I saw him in the halls and classrooms. He avoided looking at me, and I avoided looking at him. Both Claudia and Marcy picked up the negative vibes.

  “If you don’t tell us what happened, I’ll ask him,” Marcy threatened at lunch.

  I was confident he would say nothing. He sat alone at his usual table and read, avoiding conversations with anyone. As usual, no one seemed to care. Strangely, I felt sorry for him. I had a right to be angry, but that didn’t mean I was totally disinterested in him and what were the secrets that gave him the idea he and I were birds of a feather.

  For a few seconds at the end of the day, I caught him looking at me before he started for his dorm. I looked away quickly, and when I looked back, he was walking with his head down. I had the urge to run after him and almost did when Marcy came up behind me.

  “You can’t keep secrets forever,” she warned. “Especially here.”

  My worst fear was that she was right.

  “Thanks for helping me Saturday night,” I replied.

  “Yeah, well, it wasn’t entirely unselfish. I told Rob, and he admitted the pills were stronger doses than he first described. Both he and Ben were terrified you’d do or say something.”

  “I doubt that, but you’re crazy to play roulette with drugs, Marcy. Eventually, you’ll make a mistake like I did, and a lot of people will suffer. I know that sounds goody-goody, but that’s what reality is, goody-goody.”

  She was silent. I glanced back and saw that Troy had gotten into his car and was driving away, probably for one of his frequent solo rides accompanied only by loneliness.

  Just before dinner, my father called. I was alone, so I took it in our room.

  “Hey, sweetheart, how are you doing?”

  “Okay,” I said, hoping he wasn’t as perceptive as Mother, who could pick up an irregular note in our voices and pounce with questions.

  “Good. So have you given thought to what I told you? We could come up Saturday. It’s the weekend before your Thanksgiving break, and we’ll take you to see Dr. Alexander. She’ll see you on Saturday at her home office, like I said.”

  “We?�
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  “I’ll bring Dana along to meet you. She’s very excited about it. Before you ask, she knows why I’m coming to get you, so there’ll be no awkward moments.”

  “Of course there will. For me,” I said. He was quiet. “But I’ll get over it,” I said.

  “Dana’s very bright, sensitive, and compassionate.”

  “I don’t know, Daddy. I don’t know if I’m ready for this . . . Haylee coming home.”

  “Well, as I told you, that’s part of what Dr. Alexander wants to know. If anything, she doesn’t want to create new problems or set back the progress both you and Haylee are making.”

  “Progress,” I said. He was quiet again. I was tempted to tell him how terrible my first date since my abduction had gone and how much it had reinforced my rage, but he would probably tell me that was more reason to want to see Dr. Alexander. Who else could better understand?

  Maybe that was true. Maybe I’d only be hurting myself by refusing to go along with the plan.

  “I know this is hard,” he said, “but . . .”

  “I’ll go,” I said. “What time will you be here?”

  “Is ten too early? You, Dana, and I can have a little lunch before you visit with Dr. Alexander.”

  “No, that’s fine.”

  “Great. We’ll see you then,” he said. I didn’t miss the way he said we. There was a new we in his life. Would there ever be one in mine?

  I dove into my homework. Both Marcy and Claudia had remained at school to watch Rob and Ben at basketball practice. They grew bored with it after a while and returned to the dorm. I knew they were not going to give up on finding out what exactly happened between Troy Matzner and me. I began to dream up some possible scenarios that would satisfy them, but everything was so false, and I had this unexplainable need not to denigrate him. I was still quite angry about his spying on me and deceiving me, but he wasn’t wrong about calling us birds of a feather. Something had brought him great emotional pain, so great that, like what happened to me, it had changed his life, changed the way he saw the world, and changed whatever dreams he had for his future.

  Maybe it was time not to think first of myself, I thought. Maybe that was the only door out of the darkness.

  I wondered if he would come to the cafeteria for dinner or stay on his drive and stop at one of his out-of-the-way discoveries. On our way over, I couldn’t help but be very nervous. I did my best to hide it, expecting that it would only revive Claudia and Marcy’s curiosity about my Saturday night.

  When we first entered, Troy wasn’t there. Despite all I had gone through, I was disappointed. We got our food and sat with the other girls, who were still giving reviews of their weekends. I kept anticipating questions about mine, but Marcy or Claudia had probably warned them not to ask anything. I was nearly finished with my meal when Troy came in, got his food, and went to his usual table. He sat, opened a book, and began eating without looking my way. I could feel everyone’s attention on me.

  Suddenly, I lost the little appetite I had. My stomach was still sore from the roller-coaster ride I had given it. I stopped eating and sat back.

  “You all right?” Kim asked.

  “Yes. I shouldn’t have eaten such a big lunch,” I said. Nobody believed it. “I think I’m just nervous about the science test, too.” I looked at Claudia. “See you back in the dorm,” I told her, and stood with my tray. No one spoke.

  I avoided their eyes and walked off to place my dishes, glass, and silverware in the return bins. While I was doing that, I glanced at Troy. He was looking up now, looking at me. I saw more than apology in his face. I saw deep regret and sadness. For a moment, it was as if there was no one else in the cafeteria. The clamor and chatter were gone. I started toward him, running solely on instincts and avoiding any warnings or logic. He sat back, anticipating more rage.

  “I’m not apologizing. I was hurt,” I said. “But I was wrong to get involved with you, with anyone, so soon. That was unfair. I share some of the blame. I shouldn’t have used you like that, like some sort of test.”

  Before he could respond, I turned and walked away. I heard him call to me, but I didn’t stop walking. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw my girlfriends all watching, frozen with fascination. It made me walk faster.

  When I stepped outside, I felt like running to the safety of our dorm room, sheltering myself with science information to study, and avoiding thoughts about anything else. I was well on my way before he caught up with me. He put his hand on my shoulder, and I stopped and turned to him.

  “Why do you think I kept your secret and wanted to be with you anyway, knowing how hard it could be? I really believed the pain we shared would be a bridge bringing us back to the so-called normal world. Together.”

  “Maybe it would be too much like therapy for both of us,” I said. “I’ve had enough of that.”

  “I haven’t had any, formally, but I doubt any therapist you could have would feel what I feel for you. It’s worth the risk,” he said. “At least, I think so.”

  I looked toward the dorm. Walk away, a voice inside me was saying. Don’t listen to him.

  I was going to do just that, but another voice said, That’s the Haylee in you talking. Don’t listen to her. She doesn’t want you coming up for air.

  “Take me for a ride,” I said.

  Troy smiled and reached for my hand. “Sure. Where?”

  “I want to see those lights and stars again.”

  14

  We drove most of the way in silence. I thought we were both afraid of saying the wrong thing and causing us to turn around and return to the campus. Despite my father’s assurances when he first enrolled me in Littlefield, I never truly believed that no one would discover my recent horror and Haylee’s involvement. Whenever anyone looked at me too long or whenever I saw people whispering behind my back, I braced myself for the inevitable questions and shock.

  As soon as Troy and I drove off, I decided that if he asked me any questions, I would stick to the truth, despite where that truth might lead. Running from it did not make any of it disappear. It was always there, an undercurrent woven and streaming along under the thin crust of deceptions and half-truths. I was tired of being afraid, tired of anticipating someone approaching me and smiling like someone who had discovered something no one else knew, someone who enjoyed the sense of power over me, and someone who might even say, “I’ll keep your secret.” The implication would be clear. From now on, be afraid of me, and never contradict me. Never refuse a favor I ask, and glorify me with compliments.

  “My father and his girlfriend are coming on Saturday to take me to see my sister’s doctor,” I said.

  “Why?”

  “According to what my father and the doctor believe, my sister has made great progress toward redemption. She, Dr. Alexander, wants to let her go home for Thanksgiving, when I will be there, of course. She wants to see if I will cooperate, accept it. She wants to explain it to me and, I’m sure, get me to believe that Haylee is sincere and I should try to mend what’s been broken between us.”

  “That’s a lot to put on you, considering what you went through,” Troy said. “I can’t imagine any apology washing away the memories.” He made the turns and started us down the dark road that turned into gravel.

  “Neither can I.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “Listen to what she has to say. Maybe try.”

  “So you still want to forgive your sister?”

  “When someone has hurt you, you only give them more power when you remain vengeful and angry.”

  “Who told you that?”

  “My therapist,” I said.

  “Maybe that’s why I’ve stayed away from them.”

  He drove up the incline, stopped, and turned off the engine. It wasn’t as perfect a night sky as it had been the first time, but there still were enough flickering stars to make it special. The lights of buildings and homes twinkled, and we were high enough and distant enough to make
it look like a toy world. Smoke from fireplaces looked limp, like chiffon scars drifting toward the heavens, and headlights of cars were pinpoints as they wove over the streets. It was easy to feel we were above the day-to-day conflicts and troubles that confronted us. We could be safe here; we could reveal our pain.

  “Okay,” I said. “I’m wearing my emotional armor. Tell me why you would even need a therapist.”

  He was quiet so long that I thought he was not going to answer. I remembered how my therapist would avoid pushing me to reveal my feelings and thoughts. When you’re ready was her favorite expression. It put more pressure on me. How would I really know when I was ready? She was the doctor; why wasn’t she the one to decide when I was ready?

  But there did come a time when what was inside you had built up so strongly that it threatened to explode, to tear you apart until you were no good to anyone else and especially to yourself. It was just like steam. You did need some sort of release, and that did help you to feel better. In the end, despite our reluctance, we realized we all needed someone we could trust. Loneliness was far more painful and unbearable. For some, I saw the only solution was to invent imaginary friends, but ghosts were impossible to hug, and their kisses were nothing but a slight breeze, barely felt and never remembered.

  “Five years ago, when my sister, Jo, was only seven, I was walking past her room. Her door was slightly open. My mother was on some shopping expedition with friends in Philadelphia,” he began.

  His voice was thin, like the voice of someone fighting back the urge to cry. I said nothing. I didn’t move. I don’t think I even breathed.

  “I heard my father talking and paused. As far as I knew, he was rarely in Jo’s room. Whenever my mother had a question about something for or about Jo—furniture, clothes, anything—his stock reply was always, ‘Women know more about girls. You decide.’

  “What drew my attention was the way he was talking to her. He was speaking in a loud whisper, his voice so different that I almost didn’t recognize it and thought there was some stranger in the house. I inched up to the door and opened it just a little more to look in on them.”