That was why I had to go to town. I wasn’t supposed to, but I’d stayed inside about as long as I could stand it, and I felt as faded as the ugly wallpaper in the dining room. Besides, I had some remodeling to do, which meant I needed to go to the hardware store. Surely I would be safe in a hardware store.
Except there was a junk store across the street with a really cool old lathe in the window, and I couldn’t resist. If I was going to have to stay out of sight indefinitely, then I needed something to keep me busy. Otherwise I was going to cause some trouble, and nobody wanted that. Even I didn’t want that.
Reclaimed
was a tiny store squashed between an insurance company and the pharmacy. A bell jingled loudly as I pushed open the glass door. I was greeted by gloriously cold air and the dry scent of books.
And her. She was standing at the counter helping some old man, but when I walked in, she looked up and smiled.
Funny how a simple smile could destroy a person. Like a small storm that turned into a tornado. Or a tiny ripple that became a wave. Her smile washed over me, blew through me so completely that I was surprised to find myself still on my feet. Still staring at the freckles scattered across her nose. Still staring at her auburn hair. Trying to avoid the confusion in her eyes, confusion I put there because I didn’t smile back. Because that would have been my undoing.
Somehow I managed to ask about the lathe, but I didn’t hear the answer, and I didn’t see the titles on the books I was pretending to look at. This had been a bad idea. I wasn’t supposed to leave the house, and I wasn’t really supposed to talk to anybody. Besides, I didn’t deserve to talk to her. I didn’t deserve to be here at all, but Fate was a bitch who enjoyed tormenting me.
I grabbed a couple of books without even looking at them. I should have left without them. I didn’t know why I couldn’t. At the counter, I had to look at her. I had to stand close enough that I could smell her shampoo.
She asked me if I was okay. A familiar tone, like I knew her. Like I knew her well.
Damn. She’d already been out with Ian. Fantasy shattered. I had to respond. I owed him that much at least.
“I’m fine.” It was the best I could do. I got the hell out of there.
Mom and Luke were both still asleep when I left for the lake on Sunday morning. I wrote a note explaining where I was. Mom was going to be upset when she got up, but that was standard operating procedure these days. I was pretty sure it would be worth it.
Jenna and her friends were just the kind of normal I needed. They hadn’t met Luke. They didn’t worry about my headaches or memory loss, which meant I could relax. Take it easy. Smile. I’d wanted to kiss Jenna Friday night, but I was being careful instead. Doing everything right. Maybe doing things right with Jenna would balance out everything else that was wrong.
Jenna lived in an older subdivision outside of town, and she was waiting on her front porch when I pulled up. She had on a ratty pair of cutoffs and an old T-shirt, but damn she looked amazing. Her hair was pulled up in a messy ponytail, and even though she wasn’t wearing any makeup at all, she looked more beautiful than most girls do when they spend hours in front of the mirror. I doubted Jenna knew her effect on people—I wondered if she even cared.
She didn’t look happy to see me. “I’m surprised you showed up.”
“I’m sorry?” I couldn’t have done something wrong already.
Jenna folded her arms across her chest. “I don’t get your mood swings. One minute you’re practically begging me for a date, and the next, you don’t even speak when you see me.”
I hated this feeling. The frustration of someone remembering something I didn’t, something I couldn’t. It was
my
life, and I was sick of having my memories repeated to me instead of being able to recall them myself. I had to work harder with Dr. Benson. Maybe if I could keep my memories from falling away, I could keep my family from slipping away. Maybe I could even quit screwing up with the one person I was interested in getting to know.
Jenna must have realized I had no idea what she was talking about. “At the shop. You bought a couple of books and asked about an old lathe, then you couldn’t get away fast enough. It’s like you’re two completely different people.”
Moody and interested in a lathe? Only Luke would be asking about woodworking equipment. Damn it. This had nothing to do with my memory and everything to do with my brother. We were going to have a talk when I got home. “House arrest” meant he was not supposed to be running around town. He knew the rules as well as I did, but I was the only one who seemed to give a damn about them.
I debated telling Jenna about Luke right then, but I didn’t want her to know about him at all. I couldn’t tell her that my twin brother was—what? Even I wasn’t sure. He was hiding something, even from me, or especially from me, but I got the feeling it was the reason for everything—the fight with Dad, Mom’s disintegration, our slinking out of the state in the night. Luke couldn’t be trusted. So where did that leave me? We were two pieces of a whole—at least, we had been. Once.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “Migraines.”
“That keep you from speaking?”
“That keep me from remembering.” I skimmed the truth, leaving the heavier parts to settle to the bottom. “I’m sorry if I was rude.”
“You know, that excuse is getting pretty thin.”
She had no idea. “One more chance. If I screw up again today, you can drown me.”
“Jenna?” A woman’s voice called out from inside the house, and Jenna turned.
“I’m going to the lake, Mom,” she hollered. “I’ll be home later.” Jenna grabbed her bag from behind the door, then shut it before her mom could answer.
I didn’t know if Jenna had agreed to go with me because she was giving me another chance or because she wanted away from her house. Whatever the reason, I’d take it.
I wanted to stay mad at Ian, but my need to get away from my mother was stronger. She’d had several glasses of wine last night. Every time she’d thought my back was turned, she’d tipped her head back and drained her glass. I wasn’t very worldly, but I knew normal people didn’t drink like that. And then she’d forced me to look at old yearbooks while she told me overinflated stories of her glory. Spending time with her when she was like that always made my skin feel too small. Last night I couldn’t go anywhere. Today, escape won out.
Ian headed to his truck, while I walked to the Bronco. “I’m driving,” I called after him. “You can either follow in your truck or ride along.” I didn’t wait to see which one he chose.
I tossed my bag in the back of the Bronco and climbed into the driver’s seat just as he opened the passenger side door. “I won’t come if you don’t want me to,” he said.
I stuck the key in the ignition and started the truck. “You can come if you want. You promised I could drown you, remember?”
He grinned, climbing inside and slamming the door. “I have a feeling I might regret that later.”
“I have a feeling you’re right.”
There were a pair of muddy running shoes on the floorboard, and Ian tossed them into the backseat as I pulled out of my driveway. “I run cross-country,” I explained.
“Really?” He seemed surprised. “Running was always my punishment. What made you pick that?”
I shrugged. “Why do you play football?” Why does anyone do anything?
“I’m not sure,” Ian said. “I don’t actually remember why I even started. I have a picture in my room of me right after a game. I’m covered in sweat and blood and grinning like hell. But I don’t remember playing that game. I remember that we won, that I was interviewed and everything, but I can’t remember actually playing the game.”
He shook his head in frustration, and I felt bad for him. While there were a few things in my life I wouldn’t mind forgetting, I couldn’t imagine what it would be like to lose those that meant something. Who would I be if I couldn’t remember Pops? If I didn’t remember my mom before his death?
“Are you a good runner?” he asked.
I was getting pretty good at running away. “I’m all right.” I wasn’t breaking any records, but if I could shave a minute off my time, I might qualify for at least a partial scholarship. “I like running because I can set goals and reach them if I work hard enough. Life isn’t always like that.”
“I know exactly what you mean,” he said, and I was surprised to find that he sounded like he actually did. Most of the time Becca just rolled her eyes and told me to lighten up. It was nice that Ian actually heard and understood what I was saying.
“There are some things that, no matter how hard you try, no matter how much work you put into, don’t ever happen,” Ian said. “I can’t stand it when I can’t change things. When it’s out of my hands.”
Staying mad at him made more sense than the way I actually felt. His face was honest and open when he spoke, his words a truth I could almost hold in my hands.
“I run the drills and I get better at football. I study for a test and I get an A. But no matter how hard or how bad I want it, I can’t find my memories or get rid of my headaches. I can’t fix my…” He stopped short and turned in his seat, his voice lower. “I can’t make the right impression on this really great girl, because no matter how hard I try, I keep screwing it up. Wouldn’t it be great if willpower made things happen?”
My thoughts, someone else’s voice. Because if everything worked like that, I could fix my family before I graduated high school. I wouldn’t have to worry about them crumbling when I was no longer here to hold them together. I wouldn’t have to fear failure—or escape.
“Okay,” I said, slowing down as we rolled through town. “If that were true, what would you make happen?” I waited for the single stoplight in town to turn green while Ian thought of an answer.
“Well, besides the obvious one…” he began. He leaned over the console, his arm brushing against mine. His mouth twitched as he tried to hold back a smile. He failed. It was so easy to smile back.
“Which obvious one?” I asked.
“Willing myself not to forget beautiful girls.”
I was relieved when the light finally turned green and I had to focus on the road instead of the way Ian was looking at me. There was just something about him that kept me from being able to stay mad. Maybe it was the easy way he smiled or the laughter that seemed to be just behind his eyes. Or maybe it was simply because we felt the same need to work toward what we wanted. It shouldn’t have been that simple, but it was.
“How many beautiful girls have you forgotten?” I asked.
“I’ve forgotten them, haven’t I?”
I had to laugh. The fact that Ian could joke about something that wasn’t really funny helped me forgive him. Losing memories had to be one of the worst things in the world. Being mad because he couldn’t remember a couple minutes with me was selfish. It wasn’t his fault. I knew all about dealing with the crap life dealt. It felt like that was all I was doing these days.
“What about you?” he asked. “What would you make happen?”
Even though I wasn’t mad anymore, he hadn’t earned the right to be let in yet. I noticed he hadn’t answered my question either. “What, besides the obvious one?”
“What obvious one?” There was laughter in his voice.
“Willing myself not to be chased by forgetful boys.”
“Is that what I’m doing? Chasing you?” He leaned forward to catch my eye before placing his hand over the top of mine. “You must not be as quick as you thought.”
I pulled my hand away and placed it on the steering wheel. “You haven’t caught me yet.”
Jenna turned onto a dirt road lined with trees, and the forest swallowed us. When we finally pulled into a large open area, I was surprised to see it full of people. It had seemed like we were so far away from everything else. Jenna parked and climbed out of the Bronco. Everyone smiled and called to her. Maybe that was what finding my memories would be like—wandering alone in the wilderness would become a gathering of childhood friends.
Jenna introduced me around, but I immediately forgot everyone’s name. It was hard enough for my brain to hold onto whole days; names slipped through like smoke. I wanted to remember enough to know at least a few people before school started. I hoped getting my memory back would solve this problem. I didn’t want to spend the rest of my life desperately trying to hold on to details.
“Oliver and the new guy!” Kyle shouted from a nearby boat. He waved us over, and we’d barely gotten in and away from the shore before Kyle punched it. Several kids on Jet Skis passed us up, and Kyle pushed the throttle forward. Water splashed over the sides of the boat and onto a couple of squealing girls. Jenna glared fiercely into the wind, her hair streaming behind her like flames.
We sat in the back of the boat, and Jenna tethered me to Solitude with her stories. I could’ve spent the entire day just listening to her talk. Her words created images vivid enough that I could almost steal her memories for my own. I liked her stories. I liked her.
“My grandpa used to take me fishing here,” she said. We had to lean in close to hear each other over the growl of the engine and the roar of the wind. I didn’t mind. “He used to get so mad because I wouldn’t leave my line in the water.” She smiled. “I just liked to reel it in.”
Kyle was standing at the wheel, and he turned halfway. “Did you ever jump off the Point?” he asked Jenna. He pointed toward a cliff on the left side of the boat.
“People jump off that?” I asked. It had to be at least thirty feet high.
“Not anymore,” Kyle said. “Some kid broke his neck a few years back.”
“His name was Peter,” Jenna said.
“Oh yeah.” Kyle started telling the story. But when Jenna turned back to me, I forgot to listen.
We rode to the other side of the lake, slowing once we neared a tiny island in the middle of a large cove. Cliffs jutted out at odd angles from either bank, and the island itself was covered in large trees that gave way to a rocky shore. Kyle eased the boat onto the island, then started tossing everything onto the dirt.
I sat at the edge of their group and tried to remember what it had been like when I belonged. They talked about people I didn’t know and places I’d never been. They had inside jokes that I would never understand. But I’d been a part of a group once. I’d had my own friends and inside jokes. Even though I no longer remembered the specific details, being with Jenna helped me see the shadows still cast by those moments. When Jenna threw her head back and laughed, I wanted to memorize every single note and gesture before I lost it completely. If I couldn’t have those old moments back, I would fill myself with new ones.