Remember (20 page)

chapter thirty-five

A
re bad memories holding you back from doing everything you want and enjoying the life you deserve?”

The commercial cut off midstream and the camera returned to a close-up of the news anchor, her hair perfectly coiffed and looking like it was encased in a layer of clear plastic.

“Pharmaceutical giant Neurotech has its now controversial Memtex treatment in recall, pending investigation by both the Food and Drug Administration and the Seattle Police Department.”

The footage on the TV showed my dad walking out of the office building, holding his hand up to avoid the glare of the cameras.

“Neurotech president Peter Bryne has stepped down from his position. Current industry insiders say that the leaked
information brought to light by a local journalist proves that he was aware years ago of possible side effects and hid them. As a result, he will likely face criminal charges. Anyone who’s had the treatment and is concerned about their health is encouraged to see their regular physician. We can tell you that the number of impacted individuals does appear to be low and that the FDA is giving this investigation their full attention.

“Given the low incidence rate and overall positive impact of Memtex treatment, it’s possible the treatment will be approved again, although guidelines regarding who is a candidate for treatment may be changed.” The anchorwoman smiled at the audience. “After all, most of us have something in our past we’d like to forget.”

Win came into the room and clicked off the TV. “You shouldn’t watch that stuff.”

I’d been staying with Win since everything came out. There were only a few weeks until graduation, and I couldn’t face going home. The official version for Win’s parents was that there was too much stress in the house with the investigation and I couldn’t focus on finals.

Neil had told me to wait a day before making any decision, but the moment I’d decided to get the thumb drive, I’d known I was doing it to make things public. The next morning he’d called his sister, who met us at the coffee shop, and I handed everything over to her. I told her I didn’t want to pursue the fact that my memory had been wiped. I wanted to keep the
focus on the data about the side effects. She promised to do her best to keep my name out of it, to call me an anonymous source. My dad was in enough trouble without us dredging up what he did to me.

While the press might not have known who was behind the disclosure, my parents did. You can’t imagine awkward family dynamics until you’ve spilled your guts to a reporter, knowing all the while that your own dad would have wiped your memory before losing his house. There was no way I could ever go home. They knew it and so did I. I hid out at Neil’s until everything came out, but once it was public, I knew they couldn’t do anything to me anymore.

I’d gone back to the house to get a bunch of my stuff. The day I went home, my mom—technically my stepmom, I guess—was sitting in the kitchen, crying.

“I didn’t want to lie to you,” she said.

“But you did.” I wanted to believe her. I’d always wanted a closer relationship with her, but I realized now we never could have had it. Everything we had was built on a lie. I couldn’t look at her without seeing her part in the betrayal. She wasn’t the worst person in the situation, but she had her own share of the blame.

“You have to know he did what he did because he was worried about you,” she said.

I didn’t answer and she looked away. Maybe she’d believed that initially, but now she had to know that wasn’t the full
truth. She still wasn’t willing to face it. What I’d learned was that many people were more than happy to rearrange reality if it meant they didn’t have to deal with the ugly facts.

She wiped her eyes, trying to pull it together. “You don’t have to move out. If you would feel more comfortable, I can ask your dad to stay somewhere else.”

“I feel like I do.” I tried to find the right words to explain everything. I wasn’t even sure how much my dad had told her. I suspected he’d either left out the part where he was going to wipe my memory again, or he’d downplayed the whole thing. He had a way of making stuff he didn’t want to face disappear. What I did know is that I wouldn’t be able to stay there. It wasn’t my home anymore. I wasn’t safe there.

“Did you feel bad? About any of it?” I asked her.

Her eyes looked haunted with dark circles. “I wanted to do what I could for you.”

“And the fact that you got this house, the vacations in Europe, not having to ever work again—the whole package. Was that part of it?” I asked.

Her lower lip trembled. “I don’t know. I want to say no, but I don’t know anymore.”

“Me either.”

Neil wanted me to file charges for what my dad did to me, for wiping my memory as a kid and for threatening to do it again, but I didn’t. There was nothing to be gained from a big court case. I wasn’t even sure how much could be proved. He’d
lost his professional reputation and his job and was still facing the chance of jail. That was enough for me. I’d lost what was left of my family. I didn’t want to hash it all out while the whole world watched it on truTV.

“It might be a small comfort, but I never saw acting like your mom as a job or a duty,” she said. “It started as a lie, but somewhere along the way it felt like the truth.”

She crossed the room and hugged me. I could tell she was about to cry again. I pulled back. I wanted to forgive her, but it wasn’t going to be easy, and I wasn’t even sure it was possible. “I need to finish packing.”

I went upstairs. I had just a few more boxes to pick up. I grabbed one and passed by my dad’s office and saw him sitting at the empty desk.

“I want you to know I paid for Josh’s first year of college,” he said. “I sent the money direct to Stanford.”

I stopped. “That was nice.” Josh and I had reached an uneasy peace. He’d betrayed me, but when it had really mattered, he’d done what he could to help me. There was a history between us that couldn’t be wiped out. We might not ever be close again, but he was a part of my past, of who I was now. I was glad he’d get a chance to start over at Stanford next year.

“I didn’t want all of this to blow his chances. He’s a good kid.” My dad looked pale, almost a green gray, like he had the flu. “He could do some great things.”

“He could.” I waited to see if he would say anything else,
but he just sat there, looking down at his desk. I took a step away.

“I’ll do what I can to pay for your college too,” he said.

“You don’t have to do that.” I didn’t want him to know how scared I was about the future. That I’d always been able to fall back on family, on our money, and I didn’t feel ready to be on my own at eighteen, but that I also didn’t have a choice.

“I want to do it. I’m not sure what will happen long-term, but I talked to my lawyer. He can make sure some funds are still there for your school. I want you to know I’m sorry.” Dad cleared his throat. “I know how completely inadequate that is, but I don’t know what else to say. I really believed that I was doing the right thing, that the good outweighed the bad.”

My throat was tight. I wanted to say that I forgave him—you don’t give up years of being a daddy’s girl without a hitch—but I couldn’t. “I know you’re sorry,” I said. That was the best I could do. I picked up my box and headed toward the stairs.

“Harper?” I paused, waiting to hear what he would say. “Your mom would have been so very proud of you.”

That was the only time I cried.

* * *

I pushed away the memory. I took the remote back from Win and clicked the TV back on. “I can’t ignore what’s happening.”

“I just don’t think you need to know all the negative stuff.” Win stood in front to the TV.

“Pretending the world doesn’t have bad things happen in
it doesn’t make them go away.” I smiled at her. “But thanks for acting like my mom.”

She flopped onto the sofa. “How did I get to be the overly perky one in this relationship? I thought you had dibs on being Mary Poppins.”

“I don’t know.” I turned my head to the side as if I was trying to make something out. “I can sort of see you dancing around singing ‘A Spoonful of Sugar.’ It suits you.”

She poked me hard in the side. “Bite me.”

“Oooh, Mary Poppins is getting some gangster street cred.” I laughed.

“Trust me, Poppins could cut a bitch if she had to. You don’t get to be an English nanny without being tough.” Win threw her arm around me. “Lots of people are tougher than you might think.”

chapter thirty-six

T
here are few things in life that can’t be made better by fancy iced coffee drinks on a hot day. I tilted my face up toward the sun and let it beat down on me while I waited. It was one of the first really hot days of the year.

“Here you go.” I squinted into the sun. Neil put down three drinks on the table and sat next to me. “I got her a latte like you said, but I didn’t know if she’d want sugar, or fake sugar, or honey, so I brought a couple of each.” His hands spilled out a buffet of sweeteners on the table.

“Are you nervous?”

Neil fidgeted with one of the sugar packets, turning it over and over. “No.”

I raised my eyebrows.

“Yes,” he admitted.

I pulled the sugar packet out of his hand before it exploded
all over the tabletop in a sticky mess. “She’s going to like you.”

“She’s your best friend,” Neil pointed out. He and Win were meeting for the first time. Unless you counted the time she almost decked him when I met him in the parking lot the real first time, and we had all decided to forget that.

“You’ll like Win. You guys remind me of each other, in a way.” Neil looked at me like I was crazy. “I’m serious. You guys are both very determined, driven, talented.”

“Is there a chance you and I will become best friends one of these days?” Neil asked.

“Just friends?” I teased him.

Neil pulled me close and nuzzled into my neck. “Friends with benefits.” He kissed my ear, his breath warm on my skin. “Benefits like this.” His mouth continued down my neck. “And this, too.”

I giggled and acted like I was going to pull away, but actually snuggled in. I never got tired of his touch.

“Love’s a benefit too,” Neil added.

“I like that one.”

Neil pulled back as if he were insulted. “What, you didn’t like the other benefits?”

I pulled him close again. “I’m not sure. You might have to practice some more.”

Neil kissed the top of my head. “It’s a dirty job, but I guess someone’s got to do it.”

We sat together letting the sun warm us. “This is nice,” I mumbled, feeling almost sleepy from the heat despite the caffeine infusion.

“I wish things between us didn’t start the way they did.” Neil admitted. “It would be easier if the first time I met your friend I wasn’t hoping that she didn’t hold it against me that I lied to you at the start. Or that you got dragged into all the ugly business with your dad.”

“Win doesn’t blame you. More importantly, I don’t blame you. Look at it this way—if it hadn’t been for everything, we wouldn’t have met at all.”

“Now, that would have been a tragedy.”

“Exactly.” I kissed him. “We’ll always have an interesting story when people ask us how we started dating.”

Neil laughed. “Good point.”

The fellow next to us got up, leaving his newspaper on the table. The headline spread across the front page was on Neurotech. “Did you hear they might still approve the treatment?” I asked. “After everything, it may not even matter.”

He shrugged and tossed the paper in the recycle bin. “It matters. People may still go through with the treatment, but at least they’ll know the risks they’re taking. Truth is, I suspect my brother would have gone through with it even if he’d known what he was risking. Sometimes people just want to forget.” He managed a smile. “With everything you’ve been through in the past couple of months, it will be a miracle you don’t go in for the treatment again.”

“No way. There’s not a chance in the world I’m forgetting a second with you.”

He leaned forward and we kissed.

“Not a single second,” I repeated.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Writing is a lonely occupation. The bulk of your time is spent huddling in your office in yesterday’s yoga pants, drinking gallons of tea, and wondering just how much trouble you can get your imaginary friends into. Publishing, however, takes a team of people. I am hugely fortunate to have a great team in my corner.

Thanks to my previous agent, Rachel Coyne, who represented me yet again with her endless energy and humor. Kudos also goes to my new agent, Barbara Poelle, who has taken me on despite my many writer oddities.

Simon Pulse is full of amazing people to work with, most importantly Liesa Abrams, who edited this book with her trademark grace and calm. She’s my superhero and truly deserves a Batman belt of her very own. Thanks also go out to Michael Strother, who always jumps in to help. Karina Granda deserves applause for a great cover, and as always, big thanks to the Pulse crew for copy edits and support with promotion. I also have to give a shout-out to the Simon Pulse Canadian team, in particular Amy Jacobson, who always seems to have a new great idea.

I owe my family and friends endless gratitude. You can’t choose your family, but if I could I would choose the one I have. For my friends, I have no idea why you all put up with me, but I am grateful.

To my husband, Bob, thank you for listening to endless
hours of me trying to sort out this plot. I also have to thank my dog, Cairo, who is my fearless writer companion and snores under my desk while I write.

Lastly, huge thanks to all of my readers. Your e-mails and notes make my day over and over. I promise to keep writing if you promise to keep reading.