Her Last Memory

by C. A. Wittman

  Serene found that she was gripping her empty cup hard and set it back down, her eyes never leaving John. She liked this man, she realized. He was comfortable to be around.

  "What happened to our friendship after I became Dora?"

  "It faded. I'm afraid Dora didn't have any patience for your previous interests. It was very apparent that she had a whole other set of interests in fashion, social media and running. I've lost track of how many marathons you've run."

  Marathons?

  The thought made Serene think of Ramani and all the running she used to do. The sound of a key being inserted into the lock of the front door interrupted their conversation. John looked expectantly in that direction. Serene felt her heart speed up as the door opened and a woman stepped inside, carrying a brown paper bag of groceries. The shock swept through Serene like bristles of static electricity.

  Ramani.

  Was this Ramani?

  This old, out of shape, frumpy woman with the fleshy face and thin, wispy hair? But then Ramani smiled her gap tooth smile, the teeth spaced further apart than they had ever been, and Serene knew it was her mother.

  "Dora," she called out. The voice was the same. "Let me put these groceries down."

  John rose up. "I'll take those, dear." He peered into the bag and then spoke to Serene. "Ah, I see she got your favorite, pumpkin pie."

  Pumpkin pie?

  "It's all takeout," Ramani said, making her way toward Serene. "The time got away from me. Can you set it out, John?"

  "You got it," he replied.

  Ramani gave Serene a hug, swallowing her up with big thick arms. "I'm so glad you finally decided you wanted to see me, Dora."

  "I'm not going by Dora anymore."

  Ramani stepped back, scrutinizing her. "Ah, I see. Okay. We're done with Dora for now." Her tone was a bit patronizing, but Serene was still too much in shock over how much Ramani had aged to feel anything else. Up close, Serene noticed the deep grooves just above Ramani's jawline and lots of little wrinkles around her eyes, horizontal lines up and down the bridge of her nose. Her neck had loosened and hung slightly. Ramani peeled off her bulky sweater and tossed it to one of the sofas, revealing a tight t-shirt with a plunging V-neck that showed off wrinkled cleavage. She wore velour sweatpants and her middle pushed out against the pants, a mound of fat that spread wide. "Oh," Ramani said, looking startled. "Where did I leave my vape pen?" She called out to John.

  "I don't know," John yelled back. "I keep telling you to find a place to keep it."

  "I'll be right with you," Ramani said and waddled off to their bedroom, her bottom straining in the sweatpants. Serene could see pockets of cellulite through the material.

  Ramani returned, looking triumphant. "It was in the charger. So it's all charged up, and it's got the minty THC juice, your favorite." She handed the pen to Serene, who took it and then stared at the pen, perplexed. She'd seen other people vaping, but didn't really know how it worked.

  "What's wrong?" Ramani asked.

  "I don't know how, or I don't remember how to do this."

  "Oh, really." Ramani's sparse brows drew together.

  "Dear, she's lost twenty-four years of memory," John called from the kitchen.

  "Yes, I know. I just thought…" Ramani's voice trailed off. Serene handed the pen back to her mother, who pressed a little button on the side, put it in her mouth and inhaled, releasing mint-scented clouds of vapor. The two women took seats on the sofas gazing at one another.

  "What have you got there?" Ramani indicated with her head the journal that rested on the sofa cushion.

  Serene handed it to her mother. "It's my diary from when I was a kid."

  "Oh. Look at that," Ramani said quietly. "Is this the journal Aarav gave you for Christmas?"

  Serene nodded. "I lost it years ago, but then I found it again a few days ago." She paused, watching Ramani thumb through the pages and then got up to sit next to her. "At the beginning of the journal I'm Serene, but," she took the book out of Ramani's hands, "look, later I introduce myself as Dora. I don't remember writing as Dora, or drawing any of these pictures."

  Ramani read through some of the entries, sucking in her breath. Heat radiated from her body as her eyes skimmed the pages.

  John returned with plates of brown rice and veggie stir-fry. "I'll give you two some space," he said, and moments later left the apartment.

  Ramani gripped the journal, hands trembling as she stared at the last drawings labeled “Dora's Parents.”

  "Who is this woman?" Serene asked, pointing at the drawing. "Is it you?" Ramani shook her head, her hand flying to her mouth.

  "Who is she?"

  "We had to get out. Get you out. The children, oh god, the children…"

  Serene felt her blood run cold. "What about the children?"

  "This was happening to all of them, the abuse. Jai tried to take you. Take you away."

  "My dad?"

  Ramani nodded, taking a ragged breath. "I looked so much like her. I took you as my own, me and Aarav."

  Serene froze, trying to process what Ramani was telling her. "What do you mean? Who did you look like?"

  "Dora."

  "Dora?"

  Ramani's eyes glittered as they meant Serene's, and then she looked away. "Brenda Dora Wilson. Your mother."

  The room felt very still, the only sounds Ramani's breathing and the crinkling of the paper in the journal as she turned the page.

  "We didn't want you to remember. Better to forget. Pretending to be Dora was your way, I suppose––your way of reaching back to her."

  Serene slid away from Ramani, her muscles already reacting to this astonishing news, although her brain seemed to be short-circuiting. Information was coming in, but there was nowhere to put it.

  "What he did to you. It's too much for a child to hold. We had to give you a different story. We had to… I've always been like your mom." She reached for Serene's hand, but Serene snatched herself away. "I knew all her stories," Ramani continued. "We were close, Dora and me. The thing is, I couldn't get her to leave. So we took you."

  "What happened to her?" Serene whispered.

  Ramani's silence told her everything.

  One of the suicides.

  "I think Barbara knew. I kept in touch with her through letters, but I think she knew. It's why she gave Steve the car, and the house was held for you as part of her estate."

  “But your family. What about your family?”

  Ramani's mouth twisted to the side. "I was adopted. Never got along with my adopted family. I guess we were all misfits in our own way at Shangri-La, us La Las," she said wistfully.

  Serene's stomach turned sour at the thought that Ramani could look back at the cult with fondness at all, after what had happened there.

  "Shangri-La was spectacular in the beginning. Really something." She swallowed, closing the book. "Sahana was the name Dora gave you. It means powerful, strong, enduring, but Jai changed it to Serene Hokulani, calm, heavenly star. You needed to start over with a different reality. That's all. We had to give you a different story."

  "Why didn't you get me professional help, Ramani? Why didn't you have me seen by a doctor?"

  "Because. We couldn't risk it. You'd been through so much. You weren't really ours, and if we'd lost you, lost you to the system, we wouldn't have been able to get you out. We gave you all we could give, all the love we had to give."

  Except it wasn't unconditional. Ramani's indifference at times, her nonchalance. The siding with Darpan. Her actions slid neatly into place now. All those years pretending to be someone she wasn't. Serene's eyes fell to Ramani's thick middle. Her stomach looked bigger when she sat.

  "What happened to the baby?"

  "The baby?" Ramani frowned.

  "You were pregnant."

  "Oh." Ramani's hand went to her belly and she cupped it with her palm. "You don't remember?"

  Serene shook her head no.

  "I lost him shortly after Taylor was murdered. I
think the stress of trying to help Darpan."

  "You think Darpan was innocent?"

  "Of murder? Yes. They found his semen in her." Ramani gave her a side glance. "I made him leave shortly after that, but I still helped him with the attorney. I know he didn't kill that girl."

  "Who did?"

  Ramani ran her hand over her curls. "I think it was an accident."

  Serene was finding it hard to breathe, her heart picking up tempo. "What do you mean?"

  "All of you were angry with her for similar reasons, but Darpan wasn't, and he would never have hurt a fly, let alone punch a girl like that. Darpan had his faults, but he was a gentle being, Serene."

  "He's in prison, though."

  "Yes. Sleeping with Taylor sealed his fate."

  49

  Night of the Get Together - July 15, 2020; 10:00 PM

  * * *

  They'd all had too much to drink. Kanani was definitely drunk, and she spoke loud and laughed loud, jabbing her finger at whoever she was talking to. Serene's stomach roiled from the three glasses of Chianti and the two beers she'd consumed, a belch of garlic flooding her taste buds. She burped again. This time the wine came up, hot and bitter. She swallowed it back down, trying to follow the conversation.

  "Your problem is that your head is up your ass," Kanani was saying to Taylor.

  Taylor laughed, her eyes glossy, but she seemed more in control of her faculties than the rest of them. Taylor still sipped at a glass of wine, her index finger delicately tracing the rim. Enzo and Steve shared a joint between them, too stoned to care about condemning or congratulating Kanani's half-ass attack on Taylor. Steve took another toke of the pot, his eyes bloodshot.

  "Yeah, bitch," Kanani continued with her tirade. "Look at this girl over here," she pointed to Bets, whose black eyeliner had turned to thick smudge marks under her eyes. "Weren't you trying to pick up on her boy the other day?"

  Enzo pulled himself up from his position leaning against the counter and clumsily took a seat at the table.

  "What boy?" He asked.

  Taylor tipped her head back and laughed. "Mark? Really?"

  "I saw you," Bets hissed.

  Taylor lifted a brow. "You saw me? So what. I can't talk to Mark?"

  "You weren't just talking to him," Bets yelled. "You were fucking all over him."

  "What?" Taylor stared at her with mock incredulity, a teasing smile playing on her lips.

  "You see, that's what I'm fucking talking ‘bout," Kanani said. "This shit. Sluttin’ around with the brahs, with people's dads and shit."

  The room went silent.

  Steve took two steps toward them and then froze.

  Bets’ gaze dropped to the table.

  "What are you talking about?" Enzo said to Kanani, who crossed her arms and sat back, dark eyes boring into Taylor.

  Enzo turned to Taylor. "What is she talking about?"

  Taylor reached a hand up to sweep her hair over her shoulders. "I have no idea," she said quietly.

  "Yeah, you do," Bets growled. "Carrie told me about finding you…"

  "Hey, shut up!" Steve interrupted, his complexion suddenly florid. Bets’ eyes darted in his direction and her nostrils flared, the words dying out on her lips. But Kanani had gone over the edge. She banged the table with the palm of her hand.

  "Ahh, shit, what'd you do? Nah, nah, nah. Wait. No. This is what I want to know. Why me and Serene find you at her house the other day looking cozy with that batshit crazy hippy mother fucker, Darpan?"

  Taylor rolled her eyes and pushed herself up to a standing position. "You're drunk."

  "Yeah, I know I'm drunk. But I also know what I saw, slut. That money he said you went drop."

  Taylor's tan face turned an ashy shade of grey, her blue eyes stark against features that seemed to visibly shrink before their eyes. Her chest rose and fell like she'd recently been jogging.

  Serene felt sick. "Are you sleeping with him? With Darpan? For money?" It was hard for her to get the words out, like it required extra oxygen to ask the question. Taylor's hand rested on the back of her chair. The pause was too long. The “no” came too late.

  Enzo flew out of his seat.

  Steve was quicker, catching him within an inch of Taylor, who stood very still in her little black dress. Enzo elbowed Steve in his ribs, sending a gasp of pain shooting out of his mouth, but Kanani already had Steve's back, grabbing Enzo's other arm.

  "She ain't worth it, brah," Kanani yelled in his ear over the string of Italian epithets he shouted in Taylor's face.

  Taylor's left eye jumped, and her mouth worked at itself, but mostly what Serene noticed was fear, the fear of a cornered animal. Was she crazy? Serene thought. Darpan didn't even have his own money; everything he got was from Ramani, money that belonged to her family, and he was giving it to Taylor, fucking Taylor right under their noses. The rage that came over Serene was stifling. She couldn't seem to find what she wanted to say to this girl, nor was she prepared for the intense feeling of shame that flooded her senses, a hot sour sensation that singed her nasal passages.

  Hands all over. The breathing. Hot. Sour.

  Serene cupped her hand over her mouth, catching the wine that shot up her throat, dribbling between her fingers.

  "Get out!" Enzo yelled, straining away from Steve and Kanani, who still held him back.

  Bets had shrunk into herself as the scene played out. Taylor did not have to be told twice. She grabbed her purse with a trembling hand and slipped out the back door. It took another full minute of holding onto Enzo before he was calm enough for them to release. Revenge thwarted, he took his temper out on Taylor's vacated chair, kicking it violently. It crashed into the stove, one of the wooden legs cracking.

  50

  Barbara - March 2020

  * * *

  "Barbie." Barbara's grandmother, Maggie, stood in the open doorway, her glasses pushed down to just above her nostrils as she peered over them at her granddaughter. She held a hardback novel, holding the pages open to where she'd left off reading when the doorbell rang.

  "Hi. Can I come in?"

  There was the slightest hesitation and then, "Of course. Please, come on in." She stepped aside to let Barbara by, the faint smell of Light Blue wafting off her clothes. Her signature scent. Maggie closed her book and shut the door, running her tongue over her lips, a shade of orange that made Barbara think of Halloween cupcake frosting.

  "How's your mother?"

  Barbara took a seat on one of the floral printed shabby chic chairs and her grandmother sat in the other, sliding her glasses back up and flashing Barbara a quick tight smile.

  "Um, she has good and bad days."

  "Is her memory improving?"

  "She still has amnesia. It might be a while before her memory comes back."

  "I'm sorry, Barbara. It's really very unfortunate."

  Barbara couldn't think of a single thing to say. Maybe it was because her Grandma Maggie talked to her like an acquaintance, showing polite concern that left Barbara cold. Her grandmother's sharp blue eyes took her in, head cocked. A year ago, she'd chopped all her hair off and dyed it a carrot red. The effect was jolting. It made her face appear longer, the features more severe. Barbara never really knew how to be around any of her grandparents. Grandma Maggie and Grandpa Ron lived across the street, yet seemed to take minimal interest in their grandchildren. They never came over. If Barbara or her sister and brother wanted to visit, they had to take initiative. Usually, visits were facilitated by their father or Aunt Carrie. Grandma Maggie did most of the socializing when they did stop by, but there was a coolness to her. Grandpa Ron typically said little. Mostly he sat taciturn in front of the TV, watching an endless stream of various sporting events. His favorite sport was baseball and he followed the LA Dodgers. Once or twice, when Jesse was small, Grandpa Ron had made some attempts to pass on his love of the sport to his grandson, taking him out to the park in the Arts District. But Jesse had often wandered away, bored. Jesse's choice o
f style lately made their grandfather bristle with silent indignation and make barbed comments about the PC movement. Still, Barbara preferred the company of her father's parents to Ramani, who was just plain strange.

  "Uh, where's Grandpa?"

  Grandma Maggie scraped the back of her short hair with her nails. "Went out for a game of golf. He should probably be back in the next hour. "Can I get you anything? A soda?" She stopped herself, a look of uncertainty clouding her features. Dora and Erica didn't like the kids drinking soda. "Or I think I have some sparkling water."

  "Sure. Water's fine."

  Her grandmother rose up to head for the kitchen. She still had a trim, lean figure and an erect posture. She returned with a glass that had a floral design on it, fizzing with carbonation and ice. Barbara took a long swallow while her grandmother got comfortable in the seat she'd vacated.

  Barbara glanced at the book her grandmother had set down on the coffee table. "What are you reading?"

  "Oh, just one of those crime mysteries. Let's see." Her grandmother picked it up and handed it to her.

  “Kiss The Girls And Make Them Cry,” Barbara read aloud. "Is it good?"

  "It's formulaic," Grandma Maggie said with a twist of a smile. "But I've been reading Mary Higgins Clark for decades. I'm a devoted reader."

  Barbara nodded and took another sip of her water.

  "How about you? Are you reading anything good?"

  American Murder flashed through Barbara's mind, but she shook her head no.

  "So it must be disconcerting, this memory loss of your mother’s."

  "It's been really hard, especially on Sara and Jesse."

  "I'll bet." Barbara's grandmother drew a breath, then smiled. "I'd have stopped by with a casserole, but I didn't want to intrude. Carrie's been keeping us updated."

  "Yeah," Barbara said softly, turning her glass around in her hands. "Mom said that when she and Dad were dating, she used to come here a lot to hang out."

  Grandma Maggie did this little toss thing with her head. "Dora was always welcome. All the kids were."