Remember Me (5 page)

"I should have bought you a bottle of calcium supplement instead," Jo remarked, busting up the group. Beth laughed at the joke, but I could tell she hadn't appreciated it. Yet all was forgiven a moment later when she opened Jo's present.

To be fair, the specimen jars at Mrs. Foulton's hospital were a bit larger and more elaborate than the usual. But in no way did they look like expensive crystal. When Beth unwrapped them and held them up for the room to see—a hint of utter confusion in her eyes—Jo broke in with smooth sincerity.

"I know they're not the usual crystal," she said. "But I thought you would like something different for your collection."

Jo added humbly, "They're from China." Beth beamed and hugged Jo. I almost died. The rest of the room nodded and tuned out. Only Jeff gave any sign that he knew Beth was being suckered, and it was a faint sign at that; he finished his beer and silently crumpled the can between his palms. Amanda sat quietly in the corner, casting me furtive glances, probably wondering if I was going to lose it, or maybe still embarrassed that she had nothing for Beth to open.

Daniel's earrings had diamonds in them. Diamonds! They sparkled as he helped Beth put them on her ear lobes. Again, I almost died. I almost cried. I almost said something. But what could I say? Daniel hadn't said much to me all night. I knew he was still pissed at me for speaking to Jo about his excitable bedsheet manners. I was afraid that if I spoke then—or even later—I would ask why and he would say 'bye.

I began to think it was a stupid party.

Beth finally finished with her presents. ("Oh, Shah, the Beatles! My favorite!") Several more people left. Then Beth brought up the idea of swimming. The condominium complex had one huge heated pool and two steaming Jacuzzis.

But how could we go swimming, I wondered, without bathing suits? That was no problem for those who had been told in advance to bring their suits, I soon learned. Daniel was one of those people. And strangely enough, Amanda was also one. Apparently, after asking her mom to ask me for a ride to the party, she must have called Beth directly to see if she really could come and had received the word on the suits. Daniel and Beth had theirs on under their clothes.

"We could go skinny-dipping," Jo said as we watched everyone except Jeff parade out the front door. Jeff was standing alone on the balcony drinking another beer when Jo made her suggestion. He had been putting them away all night, one after another, but he did not seem drunk.

"No," I said. "I always feel naked without my clothes on." I nodded toward the dark balcony, which lay—relative to our cozy spot on the living room couch—

beyond an intervening kitchen. We could see Jeff’s silhouette against the night sky, the shadow of his beer can resting on the supposedly strong and secure wooden rail. "Besides, this is your chance. Go give him a bite."

"I think he wants to be alone," Jo said.

"He wouldn't have come to a party if he wanted to be alone."

"He had to come to the party. It's his girlfriend's birthday."

"His girlfriend's not here. She's gone swimming with my boyfriend."

"You're not upset?"

"I'm not?" I asked.

"They were the gaudiest earrings."

"Gaudy costs money. You should have given her used specimen jars."

"Who says I didn't? Are you really upset?"

"I don't know. Are you really afraid to talk to Jeff?"

"I don't know," Jo said and sighed. "Yeah."

"Do you want me to talk to him?"

"I don't care. Just don't tell him I love him."

"Do you love him?" I asked, surprised. I hadn't realized he meant that much to her.

Coming to the party was probably hard for her.

Jo began to make a flip remark, at which the two of us were masters. Then she paused and lowered her eyes. "Yeah, maybe. I don't know. Do you love Spam?"

I stood. "I always hated it when I was a little kid."

Before going out onto the balcony, I made a quick stop in Beth's bathroom. But it wasn't because I'd been drinking beer. I was never into depressants like alcohol and health food. I liked good old blood-rushing caffeine: coffee, Cokes.

Pepsis. I'd had all three that night.

The design of the condo was common for the beach area, although it would have been unusual a few miles inland. It had two master bedrooms, which meant, of course, that the condo's two bathrooms were located in the bedrooms.

Beth's room had the better view, with a wide sliding glass door that led directly onto the west-end balcony that overlooked the ocean. But it was smaller than her parents' room and, being next to the kitchen, was also less private.

When I finished in the bathroom, I joined Jeff outside on the balcony without having to backtrack to the living room.

He was lighting up a cigarette when I first stepped into the night. That is my last impression of Jeff Nichols—the side of his rugged face in die orange flare of a wooden match.

He wasn't particularly handsome. He had none of the warmth and humor in his face that his older brother had had. His bone structure was not well defined, and he didn't have to narrow his eyes for you to feel he might be angry. Still, you had to look at him. He had magnetism, buried deep, perhaps, and probably rusty, but pulling hard. He was unlike most of my friends—he didn't give a damn what anyone thought of him.

We'd only talked a few times at school, although we shared a couple of classes.

Sometimes it seemed to me that he purposely avoided me.

"I hope I'm not disturbing you?" I asked.

He glanced over, waved out his match, and took a drag on his cigarette. "No."

I went and stood with my hands resting on the smooth sanded railing, six feet from Jeff.

The view of the ocean at night was nothing—all flat, black, and depressing. It depressed me then, that's for sure. Or maybe it was the faint sounds of splashing and giggling I could hear coming from the far side of the complex.

Jeff seemed kind of down, too. I wondered if he was remembering Peter. He wasn't saying anything, and I felt I had to speak.

"It's a nice night," I remarked. It was essentially warm, with layers of cool, damp air drifting up to the balcony—not unusual for that close to the sea.

"It's all right."

"Am I bothering you?"

He shrugged. "I'll probably be going home soon."

"Before Beth gets back?"

"Maybe."

"Jeff?"

"What?"

"Nothing. I just wanted to, you know ... say something."

That was clever. What I wanted to say was that he shouldn't be with a girl who would put specimen jars in with her crystal collection and that I missed his brother, too. Jeff had idolized Peter, the way Peter could stand on die mound and make another team's hitters jittery just by the way he chewed his bubble gum. Peter had been funny but cool, without having to act it.

"I wish I'd brought my suit," I said. When he didn't respond, I added, "I wish Dan had told me we'd be swimming."

"Maybe he forgot."

I may have imagined it, but his reply seemed to contain a note of sarcasm.

"You two don't know each other very well, do you?" I asked.

"No."

"That's too bad."

He peered over at me. Neither the lights in the kitchen nor those in Beth's bedroom were on. I couldn't see his eyes; nevertheless, I shifted uneasily. "For whom?" he asked.

"For the two of you. I mean— What do you mean?"

Jeff looked back toward the ocean, took another drag off his cigarette. "Never mind, Shari."

I moved a step closer to him. "You don't like Dan, do you?"

"Why ask?"

"Come on, Jeff."

"Dan, he's OK." He shrugged again. "If you like assholes."

I did not appreciate the remark. Yet I think it disturbed me mainly because it reflected on me as Daniel's girlfriend.

"'re the asshole," I said, deciding that any sympathy I might have felt for him had been misdirected.

"I suppose."

"What's your problem?"

"I don't have any problems."

"You've got an asshole for a girlfriend."

It was not a particularly nice thing for a sweet little girl like me to say, I admit.

I half expected him to throw down his cigarette and walk away. Yet his upper lip curled into a slow smile beneath the glow of his cigarette. "She's not that bad.

She's too good for him."

"For who?"

He shook his head, and now he turned to leave. "Nothing."

I hate it when people start to tell me something that I will hate and stop right in the middle. That's my only excuse for saying what I did next. It was cruel.

"You know, Jeff, you're such a shallow jerk compared to your brother."

He stopped suddenly, and I wished I could have reached out and retrieved my words.

Like in the car with Dan on the way to the party, I only had to look at the back of his neck to feel the bad vibes. He turned slowly, though, casually raising his cigarette to his mouth and sticking it in the corner in such a way that I thought it would fall out any second. It was too dark for me to read his expression clearly, and I was glad.

"He used to tell me stuff about you," Jeff said. "He thought you were all right.

But I always thought you didn't know what was going on. I just had to look at the way you strolled along with your head up your ass." He pulled out his cigarette and dropped it, crushing it beneath his black boot. Then he cleared his throat. "Yeah, and he died, Shari, and you haven't changed. Not in my book."

He went inside but didn't leave. Jo met him in the kitchen, and I saw the two of them sit down on the living-room sofa together and talk. Maybe they talked about me. I never did know.

Neither did I know that I had less than two hours to live.

I turned back to the ocean. It was black. Then I looked straight down. A concrete sidewalk ran just below, alongside a plot of green grass lit by a hard white globe on top of a shrunken lamppost. It was a long way down.

CHAPTER

IV

JL COULD TELL YOU how I died. How my skull cracked open and the blood gushed out. All the gory details. But gore is for the living. Fading mortals don't always close their eyes when becoming naked spirits, but they seldom watch.

At least, I didn't.

Jo played a strange part before the fun started—and ended. But before even that, Bliss told me all about Big Beth and Spam. I think I understand now why Jo was always giving people nicknames. The living really have only one point of view—their own. Oh, there are wise men here and there on earth who can see things as others do, but they are rare. Most people can't see other people as quite as real as themselves. It is forgivable when you realize they have to see everyone from inside a body that can be in only one place at one time. When I was alive, some people at school seemed to me like little more than mannequins in a store window.

They were simply there for my greater shopping enjoyment.

Jo must have had the same problem. For her, Daniel was easier to relate to as Spam because Spam was a thing, and she could always return a thing to the store if she didn't like it.

And Big Beth was like a cartoon character; Jo could change the channel on the set and watch another cartoon if she was no longer amused. Or she could pull the plug, and they would all be gone. All of them.

I believe her nicknaming people gave Jo the feeling that she had control over her environment.

But I'm digressing. While Jo and Jeff sat in the living room, I went back into Beth's bedroom and lay down on her bed. I figured if she could swim with my boyfriend, I could wrinkle her sheets. I didn't go straight from the balcony to the bedroom. I discovered that the sliding glass door I had used a few minutes earlier automatically locked when I closed it. I had to reenter the condo through the kitchen and return to the bedroom. Jeff and Jo didn't even look up as I went by. God knows what they were talking about.

I had a headache. I was tired. When I lay down, I had no intention of sleeping, but I must have. I didn't dream, however. My omens were over for the night.

Except for one last big one. Before my headache blossomed into a skull-shattering mess, the gang rehearsed my funeral.

Amanda awakened me. She was sitting on the bed by my side when I opened my eyes.

Her black hair looked so long and lovely to me right then, I remember thinking how awful it would be if she were to go prematurely gray. I knew from a picture album Mrs. Parish had shown me that her mother had. Amanda must have blow-dried it after swimming.

"What time is it?" I muttered. My headache was worse than when I had lain down.

"After twelve."

I sat up. "Is the swimming over?" Amanda had changed back into her clothes.

She stared at me for a moment with her gray eyes before answering.

"Most of the kids have left," she said.

The condo did seem unusually quiet. "Where's Dan? Is he back?"

"No."

"Where is he?"

She looked down, and even in the gloom I could see the lines form on her forehead. "I don't know how to tell you this, Shari."

"What?"

"Dan and Beth are still out."

"So?"

Amanda took a breath, her hair hanging over the side of her face. "I was walking back when I remembered I'd left my watch by the diving board. I went back to get it. Dan and Beth must have gotten out of the pool. They weren't there.

But I ..."

"What?" I demanded as she paused. She glanced up.

"They were in the Jacuzzi."

"So?"

"They were naked."

"No. How could you tell?"

"I could tell."

I swallowed, and my throat wasn't merely dry, it was parched and bleeding, like my soul.

I have a confession to make. Daniel was a lot better than I've described him. He wasn't just a pretty face. He had style. He was funny. He had done a lot of nice things for me. He had taken me to the prom in a gold-plated Rolls after pinning the biggest corsage of the night on my long white dress. I liked him, I really did like him. And all those doubts I had about him and Beth—deep down inside I knew I was just being paranoid.