Remember (5 page)

I paused and realized that the tight band that had been around my chest, the feeling of dread, had disappeared. I forced myself to imagine Harry. He was there, but no giant tsunami of guilt or sadness went along with him. I felt lighter. A laugh bubbled out of my lips and I clamped my hand over my mouth.

The technician patted my back. “I’m going to take that to mean you’re feeling better.” She rolled me toward the recovery lounge.

I took a huge breath, my lungs expanding like a balloon. “I feel like myself again.”

chapter eight

T
here are few people who can carry off wearing spandex, a cape, and a hat made out of crushed tin cans. Thankfully, I was one of those people. Win was not.

“No way.” She held the tin can hat with two fingers like it was something that had been found at the very back of the fridge with an expiration date from a few years ago.

“It’s part of the skit,” Josh said. He was wearing bright green pants and a blue shirt.

“How come you get to be the earth and the rest of us have to be recycling fairies?”

“You said you didn’t want to memorize a bunch of stuff,” Josh said. “The earth is the one who gives the speech.”

“Besides, we’re not fairies; we’re environmental superheroes.” I thrust my fist in the air.

Win’s look told me that she didn’t rank environmental superheroes as any better than recycling fairies. “Just because you’ve lost your mind doesn’t mean I have. Community volunteer credits are not worth my pride.”

Saint Francis required students to do fifteen hours of community service every year. Josh had talked us into helping a local environmental group that was trying to raise awareness. We were supposed to do the skit at the mall, then for a group of elementary classes, and next week at one of the local old-age homes.

“Who came up with this skit idea anyway?” Win asked. “No wonder the planet is going in the shitter if this is the caliber of public relations it’s got going for it. These outfits make me want to leave the lights on to avoid nightmares.”

“Do your best not to mention that when we’re onstage.” Josh passed her a cape. Win crossed her arms and refused to take it. Josh pulled out the big guns. “Did I mention that Kyle is on the environmental committee at school? He’s the one who spearheaded the no-plastic-cutlery-in-the-cafeteria idea. He’s a huge fan of this program.”

Win tapped her foot, staring at Josh.

“I think it’s so nice when couples have things in common,” Josh added.

Win yanked the hat out of Josh’s hand and shoved it on her head and then took the cape. She and Kyle had gone out only a few times, but they were on their way to being one of the “it” couples at school.

“Great! I’ll let the announcer know we’re ready.” Josh slid behind the curtain into the mall’s main concourse.

“What happened to your dignity?” I adjusted my own hat.

“Have you seen Kyle’s abs? He took his shirt off in gym class. I can live without a bit of dignity.” Win raised a finger in my face. “However, if someone takes a picture of me in this outfit, I will remove their spleen through their nose. Besides, I’m not doing it just for him. Don’t laugh. I’m saving the planet here.”

I couldn’t help smiling. Win with a crush was too much fun. She’d actually been nervous around Kyle at the dance, downright giggly. Josh and I watched them as they swayed together for the last slow song. Josh commented how when Win was no longer sarcastic and bitter, it must be a sign of the end of times. I laughed so hard the fruit juice I’d been sipping came out my nose, which made me laugh even harder. It felt good to be back to myself. Or almost myself. I was still having trouble sleeping. I would jolt awake in the middle of the night, but at least now I could fall back asleep. Even the annoyance I’d felt with Josh lately seemed better.

I felt bad about lying to my parents about the whole thing. Both of them had commented on how they were happy I was acting more like myself. I thought about telling them the truth now that it was over, but I backed down when my dad went off on a tirade about the protestors getting bolder and intimidating patients. I’d tell them someday. I wanted my dad to know that what he’d made had helped when I needed it most. Josh poked his head behind the curtain. “Ready to go?”

“Truth, justice, and clean drinking water for all!” I cried. I waited for Win.

She rolled her eyes. “Fine, fine, don’t get your knickers in a wad.” She struck a pose. “You too can be a superhero for the planet by doing your part. Recycle.”

“Try to put a bit more excitement in your voice,” Josh coached.

Win flipped him the bird. The mall PA announced our show.

We stepped onto the stage in the mall atrium. A few shoppers glanced over at us but didn’t stop wandering on to the next store. Never get between people and their consumer quest. A small boy squealed in excitement and ran toward the stage. It wasn’t clear if he was excited by what we were wearing or if he was happy to have escaped the stroller he’d been strapped to a moment before. There were a few people watching from the food court, but I was fairly sure they were only paying attention because it was better than noticing what they were putting in their mouths.

“Did you know that with only four percent of the world’s population, North America consumes twenty-five percent of the world’s resources?” Josh boomed out so that his voice carried out into the mall. He turned and glared at Win when she didn’t speak.

“But we can make a difference,” she said finally.

“Recycling even one aluminum can could power a television for three hours,” I announced. No one in the food court looked impressed. Win was right; we shouldn’t have let Josh talk us into this.

The toddler who had rushed the stage was bouncing up and down. He loved the show. Clearly, he was a future earth warrior.

“C’mon, Benny. It’s time to go.” His mom tried to pull him away. Benny demonstrated zero interest in leaving. We were like a rock show as far as he was concerned. He was moments away from taking off his diaper and throwing it at us on stage. “Step away from there. I mean it. I’m serious. Come here right now.” His mom’s voice grew louder.

Win was launching into her next line about the value in buying local, but there was a buzzing sound in my ears. I could still hear the mom yelling at her toddler, but her voice was high and far away. The smell of meat burning filled my nose.

My breath was coming hard and fast. I let out a whimper. I saw Win turn to look at me. It seemed as if she were moving in slow motion through a fog. I heard a woman gasp, followed by a sickening thud. I flinched; it sounded like something thick and wet hitting the floor. The smell of burned meat grew even stronger, searing into my sinuses. Then I heard a scream and I realized it was coming from me. I backed up and fell off the small stage, landing hard on my ass. My teeth slammed together, and there was a hot, sharp pain as I bit my tongue. I had a flash of the Saint Thomas More statue falling at school, only unlike that, no one had been there to catch me.

Josh leaped down and knelt at my side. Win was there a beat later.

“Are you okay?” Win’s hands hovered over me as if she expected to see a bone sticking out of my leg.

I swallowed. The coppery taste of blood was in my mouth from biting my tongue. I felt nauseated, but I could feel my breathing returning to normal. I nodded.

“What happened?” Josh asked.

“I heard that woman make that sound, and that smell,” I said. I saw Josh and Win exchange a glance. “The woman with the little boy. She startled me, that’s all.”

“She didn’t make any sounds,” Josh said.

I opened my mouth to disagree with him, but then I realized he was serious. This wasn’t the kind of thing he would joke about. I sniffed the air: The mall smelled of popcorn, greasy pizza, and cookies. The burning-meat stench was gone, if it had ever been there at all. I could see a crowd from the mall pushing closer. They hadn’t been interested in our environment skit, but they wanted to be sure to get a front-row seat for me falling apart. I could hear them talking about me, speculating what my problem might be.

“Help me up,” I said.

“Maybe you should lie there. The mall administrator went to get their first-aid person,” Josh said.

“I’m fine.” I pushed away a sense of irritation with Josh. He always had to act like he was forty. Win pulled me up. My tailbone throbbed, but I was pretty sure I hadn’t broken anything. “I just sort of blacked out for a second.”

People leaned over one another, trying to get a better look at me. I wanted to scream at them to back off. It was like
being in a zombie movie with all of them closing in.

I slid my tin can headdress back on. There was a slick of oily sweat on my skin. “Want to start at the beginning?”

“I should get you home.” Josh’s forehead was all bunched together in concern. I knew he was trying to help, but it annoyed me. I fought the urge to whack his hand off my shoulder.

“I’m fine. I overheated there for a second. I didn’t eat enough at lunch.” I tugged my costume back into place.

Josh rubbed my shoulder. “You’re the only person I know who can forget to eat. I’ve got a protein bar in my bag. Eat that with some water and then we’ll give it another go. As long as you’re sure.”

I smiled as if the idea of having a protein bar filled me with glee. “I’m sure.”

Win’s headdress was tilted. Her mouth pulled up at the side.

“What?”

“You ate lunch.” Win’s eyes never left mine.

“Apparently not enough. I’m fine, just a bit light-headed.”

“Then why did you whisper ‘let her go’ before you fell? Who were you talking about?”

My throat seized. A bead of sweat ran down the small of my back.

“I heard you,” Win said. “Who were you talking about?”

“I don’t know.”

chapter nine

I
jogged down to the entrance to the subdivision. Our neighborhood had an elaborate wrought-iron gate that stretched across the road, complete with an intercom. In theory this was for safety, although it didn’t take a criminal mastermind to realize that if you went three feet to the side of the road you could go around the fence. I suspected the real purpose of the gate was so that everyone in our subdivision could picture themselves as important enough to require a locked gate between their house and the rest of the world. Next best thing to having your own drawbridge. Each house had a box mounted inside near the front door that allowed you to talk to whoever was at the gate and buzz them in. Our intercom worked, but not the buzzer. My dad refused to call for a repairperson because it was the kind of thing he could fix himself, not that he ever did.
Now I was stuck running down to the main gate to sign for some stupid package.

The tulips the home association had planted last fall were coming up, like an extra line of defense along either side of the fence. I pressed the release for the gate on my side and stepped toward the waiting car. I’d expected a UPS truck, but it must have been a private courier, unless UPS was downsizing to beat-up Toyotas.

“I can sign for the package,” I said. The car door opened, and I took a quick step back when I recognized him. It was the guy from the protest, the one who was around my age. He unfolded out of the car. He looked almost too big to fit inside, like someone climbing out of one of those clown cars. I turned and pulled the gate shut between us, liking the clanging sound it made as it clicked.

“Wait,” he called out.

“What the hell are you doing here? This is private property.” I felt somewhat better standing behind the gate, despite the fact that it didn’t really offer any protection. I wondered how long he’d been at the gate, staring at the giant houses that made up our subdivision. Each house had a perfectly manicured lawn, some even with fountains. I felt awkward, the way I always did when someone saw my house for the first time, and I became hyperaware that it was huge. Like mansion huge. It wasn’t that I wanted to live in a trailer, but there were times I wished we just had a normal house. I could only imagine what he thought of
us now that he’d seen where we lived. If he was anticorporation before, seeing our house wasn’t going to change his mind.

“I wanted to talk to you.” He held out his hand. “I’m Neil, by the way.”

I stared at his hand through the gate and left it hanging there.

He took his hand back. “Fair enough. We didn’t get off to a great start.”

“We haven’t gotten off to any start,” I clarified. I crossed my arms over my chest. “You need to leave. If you don’t, I’m going to call the police. You have no right to protest here.” My dad had only arranged extra security for when we were at any events. I guessed he’d thought the gate would stop any possible threats. When he heard about this, we were going to end up with guards patrolling the subdivision like a mini SWAT team ready to swing into action.

“I’m not protesting.” He held up both hands and waved them. “Look, no signs.” He smiled.

He had an infectious smile. It made me want to smile back, which made me want to smack him. “What are you doing here?”

“I didn’t know how else to reach you. I know showing up at your house is a bit forward, but everyone knows your dad lives here. I don’t have your number. I don’t go to your school, and hanging around outside waiting for you is kinda creepy. I’m a freshman at Seattle Central Community College; I can’t exactly
hang around a high school without looking like I’ve got issues.”

I stared at him. Did he expect me to congratulate him on his educational achievements? “How do you know who I am?”

“The reporter used your name, and I’m a bit obsessed with Neurotech, so I knew a bit about your dad and that he had a daughter. I put it all together.”

Community college was teaching him some fine detective skills. I kept my arms crossed.

“I wanted to talk to you about something,” he said.

“So you came to my house? You think because you want to talk you can show up at my home?”

“Technically, I came to your gate, not your house.” Neil smiled again. His top lip was crooked. “I’m simply pointing out that it’s not like I’m leering at you through the window or anything. I just want to talk to you.”

This conversation was doomed. Who knew what he wanted. He might be taping what I said, trying to find some quote he could share with that journalist to make my family look bad. He might be cute, but he was bad news. “Anything you have to say to me you can say to my dad’s lawyers.” I spun around and started walking back up the road.

“I saw you collapse at the mall,” he called out. “And I know you had the Memtex procedure. The two things are connected.”

My jaw locked.
How could he know?
I turned to face him and did my best to look uninterested. “You’re wrong. You’ve made a mistake.”

He shook his head. “I’m not mistaken.”

I marched back down to the gate and tore it open, the metal screeching. I got up in his face. “You have a lot of nerve showing up here and spouting off about my personal medical history and making up stuff. Then, to top it off, you imply that there’s something wrong with my dad’s procedure.”

“But there is.”

I snorted. “Let me guess, neurobiology happens to be a hobby of yours. In your spare time you like bowling, learning French, and critiquing the work of a bunch of PhD scientists.”

“No. I know because it killed my brother.” His voice was calm and even.

That took the wind out of my sails. How do you argue with someone once they bring up a dead brother?

“Listen, I’m sorry about your brother,” I said softly. I held up a hand before he could say anything else. “But I don’t believe the Memtex procedure had anything to do with it.”

“Give me five minutes? Let me say what I came to tell you, and then if you want to ignore it, you can.”

“I’m not
ignoring
what you say. I don’t agree with you.” I hated how it made me sound like my head was in the sand.

“Okay, feel free to not agree with me, but you’ll listen?”

I chewed on the inside of my lip. “Yes, I’ll listen, but we can’t stay here.” It was just a matter of time before one of my neighbors wondered what was going on and told my parents who they’d seen me talking to. That would bring up questions I
didn’t want to answer, including
What were you thinking?
“And you’re not coming to the house.” The idea of him in my house screamed
bad idea
.

“No problem,” Neil said. “We can go to my place. I live in the Edgemont apartment complex. Do you know it? The one near the university.”

My mind flashed to a run-down apartment complex by the highway. It was the kind of place where someone would have a sheet duct-taped up inside the window instead of curtains. That seemed an even worse idea. “We need someplace neutral,” I said.

Neil nodded. “How about Café Rica? I can drive.”

Taking rides from strangers was how people ended up in a trunk, before they were driven to a remote location where someone could dispose of their body in private after making a skin suit out of it. “I know where it is. I’ll drive myself. I’ll meet you there.”

Neil stepped toward his car and stopped. “Hey, this isn’t a ploy to get rid of me, is it?”

“Would it work, or would you show back up here again?”

“Look at that—we’re getting to know each other already.” He smiled and gave me a small salute.

* * *

Café Rica was long and narrow, like a hallway with tables squeezed on one side. The only windows were in the front and usually fogged over by steam, so by the time you got to the
back, it was dark. It was the perfect place to hole up if you wanted to sit for hours with a cup of coffee and veg out, or if you were meeting someone on the sly.

Neil was clearly not aware that this was a clandestine meeting. He stood and waved when I walked in. I grabbed a latte and sat at the small table. Our knees bumped. I noticed he was drinking plain black coffee. Now I felt like my double shot, honey-no-sugar soy latte with the fancy leaf pattern in the foam was too fussy. I had snobby coffee. I stirred it so the pattern would disappear.

“It’s great you’re here. I appreciate you meeting with me,” Neil said.

I sipped my latte. “Why were you watching me at the mall? Have you been following me?”

“No. I’m not great at the spy thing; it was just luck. I was at the mall to pick up something for my grandma when I saw you in that giant Carmen Miranda tin can hat.” His eyes glinted. “I figured seeing what you were up to was worth sticking around for.”

“It was a community service project.” As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I wanted to take them back. It felt like I’d said that just to prove that I was the kind of person who volunteered. Like I was trying to show him that he wasn’t the only person who had a cause. I put my coffee down on the rickety table and then picked it up again, wanting to have something to do with my hands. “I said I’d give you five minutes.” I looked at my wrist as if I had a watch on.

Neil traced circles on the table with his cup. “I’m not real sure how to start. Guess I should have made a plan for this conversation.”

“Start with your brother.”

He nodded. “Marcus. He was seven years older than me. I was the accident kid, the one no one planned on. I have an older sister, too. She’s nine years older.” He ran his hands through his hair. “Marcus was a total overachiever. Great grades, in the school band, played on sport teams, that kind of thing. If you’d met him, you’d know he was going places.”

“And you?”

“I wasn’t feral or anything, but by the time my parents got to me as the third kid, they were more laid-back. Marcus and my sister had already done everything. I would always be the kid who did it last, so there was less pressure. Things in our family were good—and then they weren’t.

“Marcus was in a car accident. It wasn’t his fault, but his best friend was killed. Marcus was trapped in the car with him when he died. They were waiting for an ambulance, but it took too long.” Neil didn’t meet my eyes and instead stared down at his coffee.

I sucked in my breath, trying to imagine it. Stuck in a car with a cacophonous silence. Alone, but not alone. “He went for Memtex to get over it,” I said.

“Yep. He was in this competitive grad program and he couldn’t focus. At first it seemed to do the trick. He was back
to being Marcus. Then he started having trouble. He wasn’t sleeping right. Memory problems, visual things too—where he couldn’t judge distance right. He’d bump into stuff or drop things. Then there were the mood changes. He was cranky all the time, almost paranoid.”

“He’d been through a lot; it’s not surprising he was having trouble.” I took a sip of my coffee, the heat burning my tongue. I pushed down a wave of unease.

“But the Memtex should have helped, right? But it didn’t. He went from depressed to confused. He was on edge. In the end he killed himself. Sleeping pills.”

I let the breath I had been holding out in a rush. My planned arguments turned to damp ash in my mouth. “I’m sorry.”

Neil pulled a wad of wrinkled papers out of his bag. “There are people who think Memtex could cause an early version of Alzheimer’s. My brother had all the symptoms.”

“But wouldn’t his doctor have diagnosed that?”

“Who thinks a twenty-three-year-old would have Alzheimer’s? No one. And it’s not like a condition that shows up on a test; they can only diagnose it for sure by doing tests on the brain after death. My parents didn’t do that because it never occurred to them it was an option. It makes sense, too, if you think about it: The treatment messes with the memory center, so maybe in some cases it goes too far.”

The tight knot in my stomach released. It was a horrible
situation, but there were options, other reasons this might have happened. “Try to think of this a different way. Maybe your brother had issues. You said Marcus was an overachiever. He must have felt a lot of pressure. Then, even with the treatment, he’d still been through a horrible accident. The treatment doesn’t promise to eliminate all problems, just dial them down. Maybe even with the guilt reduced, it was more than he could take. I’m not blaming your brother; I’m simply saying that it might not have been the treatment,” I said.

“It’s not just my brother. There are other people with similar situations.” Neil nudged the stack of paper toward me. He’d printed off a zillion articles to make his point.

“Thousands of people have this procedure. Hundreds of thousands. If this was happening, it would be an epidemic.” I had the urge to push the papers back to him, but I didn’t want to touch them.

“Even if only five percent of people have this side effect, isn’t that too many?” His eyes never broke contact with mine.

“The company tracks all sorts of data. They would know if this was a real concern.”

“Unless they don’t want to know. How much money does Neurotech make with this procedure? Millions? Billions? Do you think they’re going to walk away from that because a small number of people have a bad reaction?”

I fought the urge to shove the papers onto the floor. “Yes, they would walk. They’re doctors; they do this to help people,
not hurt them. You’re talking about my
dad
. You don’t know him. If my dad suspected something was wrong, he would do something.”

Neil stared at me across the table. “If you’re so sure, then why not read the articles? Unless you don’t want to know.”

I grabbed the papers and shoved them into my bag in a giant wad. “Fine, I’ll read them.”

Neil didn’t break eye contact. “This isn’t just about me. I was outside the clinic that day. I was one of the protestors. I saw you go in.”

I flushed. So much for my sunglasses master disguise and theory no one would notice. “How do you know it was me?”

“You’re not the kind of girl someone forgets.”

My heart skipped a beat. “I was visiting my dad. I do it all the time.”

My heart beat faster. I was glad for the hum of conversation and jazz music playing in the background. It seemed like without the other sounds he would be able to hear the pounding in my chest, even though I knew that was absurd. I reminded myself he hadn’t been inside the clinic. He had no idea what I did in there.