Remember (4 page)

chapter seven

I
walked past the main lobby of Neurotech, ignoring the calls from the protestors, who yelled whenever anyone came in or out of the main door of the building. I went to the side door that most of the employees used. I tapped on the glass. The security guard looked up from his newspaper. He sat at a long desk that blocked the hallway beyond. I pulled off the giant sunglasses I’d borrowed from Win so he could see my face. He pushed the buzzer to unlock the door when he recognized me.

“Hi, Mr. Epstein.” I held up a paper bag. “I’m dropping some cookies off for my dad.”

“What would the guy do without you?” Mr. Epstein laughed. “Let me get you a visitor badge.” He went to pull out the logbook, the dark hair on his arms peeking out from his sleeves.

“Nah, don’t bother. I’m just going to run these down to
him and then I’ve got to go.” I mentally crossed my fingers. Officially they were supposed to log everyone in and out of the building, but I was counting on the fact that since he knew me, and it was a hassle, he wouldn’t want to bother. It was unlikely my dad would ever check, but I wanted to avoid a record that I’d been there if I could.

“You want me to page your dad? He could come here and save you trying to hunt him down.”

“It’s okay. I’ll leave them in his office. It’ll just take a minute.” I stepped into the hall, holding my breath.

“Wait a second.”

My heart slammed into my chest. He wasn’t going to let me in. Our plan was falling apart already. I turned around slowly, but Mr. Epstein was smiling at me.

“I wanted to ask you a question about horses. My daughter wants to go horseback riding for her birthday. I thought you’d know some place we could go.”

The irony of him wanting to talk about horses when I was trying to sneak into the clinic to soften my memories of Harry wasn’t lost on me. It had been my experience that the universe had a wicked sense of humor. “Um, sure. You could call Hampton Mews; that’s where I ride.” I fired off their number from memory, and he jotted it down on the message pad on the desk.

Mr. Epstein pursed his lips. “I thought it would be more fun to do something like a trail ride. Nothing against the kind
of riding you do, but we don’t have all that fancy gear, the funny pants and all.”

“Jodhpurs?”

“Yeah, those. I was thinking something like a dude ranch.”

“I can send you a list of those around here,” I offered. “I don’t know the numbers by heart, but I can find them for you.”

He pretended to swing a lasso over his head. “That would be great. We’re more the cowboy type.”

I pressed my mouth into what I hoped passed for a smile while he blathered on about cowboy movies he’d loved as a kid. The clock above the security desk ticked loudly. Josh was going to freak out if I wasn’t there to meet him. In the meantime Mr. Epstein was giving the blow-by-blow about why he thought Hollywood never made a good western after Clint Eastwood hung up his spurs.

“I’ll look up some places tonight,” I said, cutting him off midsentence. He looked surprised that I’d interrupted him. “Yee-haw,” I added, trying to sound enthused.

“Well, thanks. That’d be a huge help.” The phone rang, and he looked down to see if it was his line.

I waved, then walked quickly down the hallway before he could suck me into another conversation. I fought the urge to run. Unless someone yelled “Fire!” first, running down an office corridor tended to attract attention, which was the last thing I needed. I slid past a few office doors and turned the corner where we’d planned to meet. Josh wasn’t there. Shit.

There was a door that led to the clinic side of the building with a swipe card reader on the wall. I tried the door just in case, but it was locked. A couple of lab technicians walked past me. I couldn’t hang out in the hall; it looked suspicious. The floors were done in a bright white tile, and the walls were blank, so I couldn’t even pretend an interest in something. I bent over and fidgeted with my shoe.

Still no Josh.

It was just a matter of time before someone who knew me walked by. I hated when Win was right. I was never going to hear the end of it. I leaned against the wall and acted like I was checking a message on my phone and started to fire off a quick text to Josh.

There was a soft click, and the door opened. Josh’s head poked out. There were voices coming; they would round the corner in a second. I dashed across the hall, joined Josh, and pulled the door shut behind me.

“Where were you?” I thumped him on the chest with the palm of my hand.

“Where was I? Where were you? I opened the door three minutes after I called like we planned, and you weren’t there.” Josh rubbed his hands on his pants. The air-conditioning was up high, but I could tell he was sweating. “I walked down to the staff room and back,” he said.

“I got held up.” I glanced at my phone to check the time. “Let’s go.”

“Okay, come with me.”

I followed Josh down the hall, my shoes clicking on the tiled floors. I’d been at Neurotech thousands of times visiting my dad’s office and the labs, but I’d only been to the clinic side of the building once or twice. The good thing about not knowing this part of the building was that the chance of running into anyone who knew me went way down. The clinic had the same white floors and walls as the labs, but black-and-white photography prints hung on each wall, spaced exactly in the center and an even distance apart. It was like someone with a serious case of OCD had decorated the place. The photos were pretty, but the lack of color made the space feel even colder.

We slipped down a couple of corridors, and then Josh motioned to a small exam room. “Change into the robe in there. No jewelry. Put all your stuff in the plastic bag on the shelf. You’re technically almost an hour late for your appointment, so the staff is slipping you in. I had to wait at least a half hour to make sure the real person didn’t actually show up. I’ll be back in five minutes with a nurse who will check your blood pressure and temperature. Your name is Emily Ludka. Got it?”

I pulled my sleeves over my hands. “Are they going to think it’s weird my parents aren’t with me?”

Josh shook his head. “The real Emily’s parents signed a consent form when they booked the appointment. It’s not that unusual for people to drop someone off and pick them up later. A lot of parents don’t want to sit around.”

“Must be kinda creepy to be here alone.”

He smiled. “You’re not alone. I’ll be waiting for you.” Josh looked around quickly to make sure no one was watching, then kissed my cheek.

I pressed the paper bag into his hand. “These are the cookies.”

“Okay, I’m going to drop these in your dad’s office so if someone saw you in the building the story jibes. The security guard that let you in is off shift in fifteen minutes, so it won’t seem weird that he doesn’t see you leave. Odds are he’ll forget he saw you unless someone specifically asks.”

Josh left the room and I shut the door behind him. The room was small, with just an exam table with the white paper cover, one of those tall scales with the sliding weights, and a blood pressure monitor attached to the wall. I grabbed a plastic bag that was marked
PATIENT BELONGINGS
off a shelf of supplies. It had an adhesive strip on one side of the opening that you peeled off so you could seal your things inside. I shimmied out of my clothes and shoved everything in the bag along with my ring. I didn’t have much; I’d left my school bag with my driver’s license in Win’s SUV just in case. I didn’t think anyone would go through my stuff, but I didn’t want to take a chance. There was a washed-out, pale green hospital gown that tied in the back and a thin robe that I pulled on so that my ass wasn’t hanging out. The tile floor felt cold through thin paper slippers. I glanced down at the picture of Harry I’d brought with me.

A rush of hot tears came to my eyes, and my lower lip
shook. Just when I thought I was doing better, I would slam into a wall of emotion and find myself crying again. I hoped that wherever Harry was, he knew how much I loved him. As much as I wanted to believe there was a horse heaven, or a heaven in general, I wasn’t sure. I would have done anything to save him from dying the way he did. I couldn’t escape the feeling I’d let him down.

His loss had left me feeling like someone had scooped out my heart with a rusty spoon: raw and gutted. Not that I’d expected to bounce right back, spouting things like how he was in a better place or how the circle of life took us all eventually. Instead his death had made me feel like someone had whipped off my blinders and I could see this entire ugly side of the world that I hadn’t known existed. There was this heavy feeling of dread that followed me around. As if there were something else, just out of sight, that I instinctively knew I didn’t want to see. I hadn’t been completely honest with Josh or my parents. I did want the treatment because I was sick of feeling so depressed all the time, but it was more than that. I wasn’t only depressed. I was scared. I shoved his photo in the bag and sealed it.

* * *

“Okay, Emily.” I jolted when the technician touched me. For a second I’d forgotten that’s what she thought my name was. “We need you to think about the memories that upset you,” the technician said. She pushed the table I was on inside a huge machine. She patted my foot. I shifted slightly on the metal
table. There was a thin blanket underneath me, but I wasn’t at any risk of getting so comfortable that I would fall asleep, even with the shot of something they’d given me that was meant to relax me. How someone could be relaxed when they were tied down was a mystery. Velcro straps ran across my chest and legs, ensuring I stayed still. The straps were covered in a soft white fabric designed to make you forget you were lashed down. I wondered what memories the real Emily wanted to soften and why she’d missed her appointment. I hoped it was because she’d decided things weren’t so bad.

“Try to stay still.” The technician’s voice seemed to float out of nowhere. I couldn’t see her. It was dim inside the machine, with just a soft blue light. It felt very science-fiction-ish, like the equipment was talking to me.
I’m sorry, Hal, I can’t do that.
This was what came from watching too many sci-fi movies with my dad.

“Sorry,” I said to the technician. Now that I needed to think about Harry, my brain refused. I’d been obsessed with his memory for the past few weeks, stuck thinking about him over and over, but now my thoughts were racing. I swallowed and made myself remember what he’d looked like lying in his stall. The suffering must have been horrible, and he’d been alone. He would have been scared, his eyes rolling, his heart seizing as the pain he felt became unbearable.

There was a metallic whir above me, a soft breeze of cool air as the robotic arm moved. I smelled a hint of rubbing alcohol.

“You’re doing great, Emily. We’re going to walk you through a couple sensory memories to help us get a lock on things. Don’t try and force anything; let yourself free-associate.”

I was going to nod, but remembered I wasn’t supposed to move. “Okay.” My voice sounded funny to me, as if it were coming from someone else. Clearly whatever had been in the shot had had more kick than I’d thought. My lips felt funny, almost electric. I bit my lower lip, but it didn’t hurt. It was like my entire head was full of Novocain. I fought the urge to reach up and touch my face to see if it was my own. I had this fear that my features wouldn’t be mine and instead I would look like Emily.

“First think about scents associated with your memory.”

I inhaled, recalling the smell of fresh-cut hay, how Harry’s flesh smelled almost earthy when he’d been out in the sun. The warm tangy smell of the leather saddle and tack.

“Now think about the images that go along with your memory.”

I saw Harry run through a field, his mane and tail whipping in the wind. I pictured how he’d toss his head when he was excited. Images of Harry flipped through my mind like a slide show on slow speed.

“Great. Now I want you to think about anything associated with how your memory might physically feel.” There were more clicking sounds as the machinery spun around me.

I closed my eyes and pictured myself running my hands down Harry’s flank, his soft fur that felt prickly if you ran your
hand the wrong way. I felt the burn in my thighs when I’d been riding for hours.

“Okay, last step, Emily. We’re almost done.”

I jolted slightly on the table. I’d nearly fallen asleep. I’d been sure that would be impossible. I took a deep breath. I felt light-headed, almost a bit drunk.

“Can you think about some sounds that go with your memory?”

My mind shifted, hearing Harry snort. The clang of the metal bar when we didn’t clear a fence, and the soft thud of his hooves as they sank into the soft dirt.

There was another whir from the machine above and a soft buzzing sound. I felt myself starting to drift off. I couldn’t tell where the buzzing in my head stopped and the buzz of the machinery started.

Then I heard the sound of a woman gasping, followed by a loud crash. My eyes flew open. Something was wrong. I tried to sit straight up, but the straps on the table held me in place. In less than a second I realized that no one else had heard the sound. It had been in my head. Everything was fine.

The lights came up, and the technician slid the table out of the machine. I blinked in the harsh light. She undid the straps, the Velcro giving a loud tearing sound. Her fingernails were painted a bright pink. “We’re all done. We’re going to have you rest in the recovery lounge for a bit, and then you’re good to go home.”

“That’s it?” I looked around as if the room should be different.

The technician laughed. “Everyone says that, but yep, that’s it.” She winked. “Miracles don’t have to be loud and splashy. It’s not all dividing the Red Sea.” She helped me off the table and into the wheelchair.

I was going to tell her I wasn’t sick and I didn’t need a wheelchair, but then I realized I wasn’t very steady. My feet and ankles didn’t feel connected to the rest of my legs.

“It’s normal to be a bit woozy. It’s the medication. It will wear off soon. How do you feel?”