Her Last Memory

by C. A. Wittman

  Cuppa took a sip of her wine. "No. It's a common enough recipe. I got it off the good old internet."

  "I do like Tera. Sweet woman, always so helpful. How is she doing?"

  Barbara noticed Ramani had that smug cat-that-ate-the-mouse smile as she waited for Steve to reply. He stabbed at his pasta with his fork. It seemed like Ramani knew something. Her dad had said he and Tera were having issues. Was she trying to rub his face in it?

  "She's fine," he said, giving Ramani a quick, tight smile.

  "And Laird?" She continued.

  Serene stared at Ramani, her dark eyes hard pits of anger. She set her fork down as a silence fell over the table. But Grandpa Ron, focused on his dinner, missed the underlying tension that was moving like a treacherous current under a seemingly placid surface. "Laird's a great kid," he said. "He loves sports. You should take him out to play a little ball." The innocent remark cracked through the stilted, awkward moment.

  Steve nodded.

  "When your mom and I get back from our cruise, I can take him out, show him how to swing. I remember you were a pull hitter, but I have a feeling that kid might just be a slugger." Grandpa Ron grinned at the thought and his eyes darted over toward Jesse, who tucked his hair behind his ear and picked at his fish.

  "You're not still going through with that cruise?" Carrie asked, aghast.

  Grandma Maggie cleared her throat. "We've been planning this trip a long time, Carrie. We'll be careful."

  "Careful, how?" Ramani challenged her.

  "It's none of your concern," Grandpa Ron said.

  "There's no way you can be careful on a cruise ship," Ramani said, undeterred. "They’re floating Petri dishes." John covered her hand, but she continued anyway. "It's irresponsible. This thing is going to blow up and all because no one's taking it seriously."

  "People get sick all the time," Grandpa Ron growled. "Are we supposed to stop living?"

  "This is different, and you know it. It's turning into a pandemic."

  Ron laughed. "A pandemic." He shook his head.

  "Yes. A pandemic," Ramani snapped. "And Trump ought to be focusing on that, instead of trying to protect the cruise line industry."

  "President Trump closed down travel from China. That's something. You know why? Because it's a Chinese virus. Mark my words, this thing is going to blow over in a few weeks."

  "The whole country of Italy is shut down," Cuppa said, the strain of anger audible in her voice. "That doesn't sound very Chinese to me."

  "Italy is inundated with Chinese tourism," Grandpa Ron said, the color rising in his neck and flooding his face. He glanced around the table and stabbed his fork in the air. "We have the best health care system in the world. There's no way this virus can take hold like it did in Italy. If you want to know my opinion, it's not nearly as dangerous as the flu, which kills millions of people every year. You don't see people canceling their vacations because they might catch the flu."

  "Where did you get that, Fox News?" Erica muttered.

  "As a matter of fact, I did. A real news-station. You might benefit from watching it from time to time."

  Grandma Maggie held up her hands. "I think we have had enough talk about politics."

  "No. I don't think we have," Ramani shot back. "Someone needs to set you people straight. You're living in a fantasy. Fox News isn't news, it's propaganda. A pandering crew of bigots and misinformed individuals kissing up to that psychopath we have as a president. He barely knows where any of the countries are, or world history. Hell, he doesn't even know US history."

  "Okay, you two, that's enough," Steve interrupted.

  But Grandpa Ron's temper exploded. "You talk about living in a fantasy. What the hell kind of family is this? Your daughter marries my son and then has an affair with this woman!" He points at Erica. "She completely destroys their marriage, takes over their home, and now my grandson thinks he's a girl. Look at him for god's sake."

  Jesse's lip trembled.

  Barbara felt like she was going to be sick. "Grandpa." She tried to get his attention, but he continued.

  "He. Is. A. Boy. Boys don't dress up like princesses. But it seems all of you have something against being male. Jesse's got to be a goddamn girl to live in this house. And what is John, your third or fourth husband? I've lost count."

  "Dad, please," Carrie said, her eyes watering.

  "Everywhere you go, everything you touch turns to chaos, Ramani."

  "Shut up," Ramani hissed.

  Grandpa Ron's eyes grew hard and small. "Oh, you want to dish it out, but you can't take your own medicine. You PC liberal snowflakes are ruining our country. You know that? It's people like you who get involved with crazy cults and cult leaders who take advantage of little children."

  "Ron. This isn't appropriate," Grandma Maggie said.

  "You married that whack job, Darpan, who took a young girl's life, and now we're here because Dora has memory problems. I think I'd want to forget, too, if I had a mother like you. Your mother Barbara was a decent woman. I'm sure she's turning over in her grave right now at the kind of dysfunction you've made of your family.

  Ramani gripped her fork hard in her hand, which had begun to shake, her facial muscles jumping with rage.

  John spoke up for the first time. "Ron, this is really not the place…"

  "You weren't invited," Grandpa Ron said quietly to Ramani, whose eyes bulged. "It's obvious. There weren't enough chairs. There weren't enough flowers." He waved his hand at the wreaths on everyone's heads.

  It happened so fast that for a moment Barbara wasn't sure what had played out before her. Ramani sprang forward, a guttural sound bubbling out of her throat, her fork plunging into Grandpa Ron's hand. He screamed just as Jesse shot to his feet, yelling, "Stop it! Stop it!"

  Sara flew from her chair and ran out of the room and Cuppa sprang to action, bustling Jesse away. Grandpa Ron's face turned white, blood bubbling out of his thick, pulsating vein, and Grandma Maggie's hands flew to her face, her shoulders shaking. It was only when she pulled her hands away that Barbara saw she was laughing. Moments later, the laughter turned to tears.

  "Someone call 911," John said as he went to the kitchen and returned with a dishcloth to press onto Grandpa Ron's hand. Everyone was up and doing something. Only Serene remained sitting, mute and staring as the blood seeped into the cloth.

  "Mom, come on." Barbara took hold of her mother's arm, giving a gentle tug, but she couldn't get her to move.

  53

  Serene - March 2020

  * * *

  It was all a blur, the drive to the ER. Erica and Cuppa stayed behind with the children, Ramani and John went home and Serene jumped into Steve's SUV with Carrie to follow Maggie and Ron to the hospital. John had removed the fork from Ron's hand and staunched the blood flow himself as the 911 dispatcher deemed the injury not an emergency, walking John through the process.

  At the ER, after Ron's vitals were taken and his wound was briefly looked at, he'd returned to the waiting room for another hour before his name was called. Serene had sat off to the side while the Bates family huddled together, talking in low voices. But after Ron was called in and Maggie went with him, Steve stepped out to take a call and Carrie came to sit next to her, face drawn and pinched.

  "That was a fucking nightmare," Carrie said in a low voice.

  Serene nodded, feeling numb.

  Carrie sat back and, after a minute, pulled out her phone, scrolling Facebook. "I can't believe he brought up Taylor. Well, actually, I can't believe he said a lot of things." She shook her head.

  Serene glanced at the picture on Carrie's phone. It was of Enzo with his wife Mara. The caption read, It was our anniversary yesterday. I can't believe she's gone. There was a stream of responses. Hang in there. We're praying for Mara.

  "It's really tragic how she's gone missing like that,” Carrie said softly.

  "I was told that Mara and I were close," Serene said.

  "Yeah," she glanced up at Serene. "You two w
ere close. You don't remember?"

  Serene shook her head no.

  Carrie chewed her lip, thinking. "The police found her phone up at the house in Topanga. She'd caught a Lyft there. They scoured the place, but nothing." Carrie fell silent, then said, "It's fucking creepy."

  Serene gnawed at the inside of her cheek. She hadn't seen Detective Anders in a couple of weeks. Maybe he'd given up on her knowing anything.

  "Barbara told me that you remember everyone from when you were a kid," Carrie said. "It's weird you don't remember Mara."

  "I didn't know anyone named Mara."

  “Serene,” Carrie said in a you-can't-be-serious voice. And then her hand flew to her mouth. "Oh, Jesus H. Christ. I completely forgot. No wonder."

  Serene stared back at Carrie.

  "She changed her name. Oh god. It makes sense now. She used to go by Julie."

  "Julie?"

  "Yeah. Julie.""

  "Taylor's friend, Julie?"

  Carrie scrutinized her. "Well, yeah, she was Taylor's friend, but now she's like your best friend. You don't even have a tiny bit of memory about Julie? I mean now that she's Mara."

  “Julie, yeah, but not as Mara."

  Serene could imagine her clearly. Blond Julie with her feathered hair and nasal valley girl talk, features near permanently screwed up tight with irritation over having to spend time with Serene. Taylor, throwing an arm around Julie to get her to lighten up. Julie was always rolling her eyes and chewing gum, cracking it between her teeth, her arms crossed, watching all of them like they were the biggest idiots. When Serene moved to LA, Taylor and Julie were a best friend item with matching hair color and style, similar dress and flippant, entitled mannerisms, Julie doing all the driving and Taylor making all the decisions about where they went and when. Over the summer, Serene had seen less of Julie. It happened gradually, Serene realized, around the time Taylor and Enzo hooked up. Staring at the picture of Mara and Enzo on Facebook, she wondered how in the world the two of them became close. Like her marriage to Erica, the relationship felt foreign, all the more proof that she was not Dora. "We don't have anything in common,” she said, frowning at Carrie's phone.

  Carrie laughed. "Well, at one point you didn't, but you do now. You're both really into fashion, you both have kids and like to travel."

  Something was seeping into Serene's memory that she couldn't define. Carrie pulled up Mara's page. "Look. There are a gazillion pictures of you two."

  Serene had looked at the page before. Every other picture Mara posted, it seemed, had the two of them in it. They were captured laughing, talking, making kissy faces at the camera and posing in various outfits. Mara had kept herself up. She was still trim and pretty and wore her hair in long layers. She worked in fashion as a photographer. It looked like she volunteered her time and money to an organization that helped young girls who suffered domestic abuse. The pictures were coming to life in Serene's head. It was almost as if she could remember the events and locations that she and Mara were pictured in. There. That boat. Serene pointed at the luxury yacht on turquoise water, Mara leaning over the railing, a smile plastered on her face, a glass of wine in her hand.

  "That's a catamaran." Serene fell silent, surprised at how the word just rolled off her tongue. It was a catamaran. How did she know that?

  Carrie nodded. "Yeah, Enzo rented it last summer. You guys went to the––"

  "Grenadines." Serene finished for her. She pointed at the girl next to Mara. "Gina. Enzo and Mara's daughter."

  "My god," Carrie said in a low voice. "Is your memory coming back?"

  Serene was shaking. The memory was so strong that she could almost feel the salt air in her face, the breeze and the ocean's spray. Serene could remember Barbara making snide remarks about the yacht, enjoying the experience despite her misgivings of the ostentation. She could remember Erica's smile, popping into their cabin in the middle of the day for a quickie, all the while trying to keep quiet. Mara, so organized. Enzo, a respected renowned chef. The Moreno family owned three Italian fusion restaurants. Dora's memories kept coming. It was like stepping into someone else's body and remembering their experiences without really being them.

  "I remember," Serene whispered. Yes. She was remembering Dora's life.

  Carrie grabbed her hand. "Oh my god, Dora––or Serene––whoever you are." Her voice rose with excitement. "These pictures are helping." She started quickly swiping through them, too fast.

  "Wait. Slow down."

  "Oh. God," Carrie said. "Look at this old picture."

  It was all of them—the whole crew. Taylor's mom had snapped the picture when she came to pick up Taylor and Julie after Julie's car broke down. She must have given the photo to Julie. Thirteen-year-old Carrie sat on Serene's doorstep, holding up her hand in a half-hearted friendly greeting. Steve, Dylan and Serene posed on their skateboards and Taylor grinned with her arm around Julie, who looked like she was in the middle of an eye roll.

  Julie.

  Serene's hand flew to her mouth.

  "Are you okay?" Carrie asked.

  54

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

  * * *

  "I need some air," Serene said.

  "Yeah, I should go home," Steve mumbled.

  Just seconds before, Enzo had grabbed the phone, storming out of the kitchen. From the living room, they could hear him talking loudly in Italian. The conversation ended abruptly, and he strode back, gazing at all of them with bloodshot eyes.

  "Who did you call?" Bets asked.

  He pulled out one of the chairs and slumped down into it, his anger apparently spent. "My cousin," he said. "She warned me about her. I should have listened."

  Bets got up and began clearing dishes, but Enzo waved her down. "Don't worry about it."

  "I'm not going to leave you with this big mess."

  It was a mess. There were dishes still on the table, empty glasses, wine, beer bottles, platters of leftover food and splatters of red sauce on the stove. Serene felt tired looking at it, and Steve's hands went to his forehead.

  "Shit," he said. "I really should get home. I don't want to piss my dad off."

  "I said, don't worry about it," Enzo snapped.

  Kanani grabbed some glasses. "We got you," she said.

  Steve hesitated, then walked in that loping gait out of the kitchen and the house altogether.

  Serene stared at the backdoor. "Do you think Taylor will be alright?" She asked, thinking of the desolate streets, a young girl walking on her own. It wasn't safe.

  "Yo, fuck that bitch!" Enzo exploded. "She's not my problem anymore. Why is everyone concerned about Taylor? Even my cousin is on my case about, 'how is Taylor getting home?' Fottere!"

  "I need air." Serene drifted toward the back door and Kanani glanced her way. Enzo's eyes rolled up toward the ceiling as he started to talk to himself in Italian.

  "Go get your air," he said in English.

  Serene opened the door and slipped out. Once outside, she took several deep breaths, nerves frayed from the evening events, and the rest of her senses somewhat dulled from too much alcohol. She made her way through the yard and out the side gate closest to her house, but stopped when she heard Taylor's voice and someone else––a man––Darpan? Serene crept forth. The conversation came from the other side of her house. Then she saw them standing near the street lamp in the adjoining side yard that separated Serene's home from their neighbors. Crouching near the hibiscus, she watched Taylor sniffing, eyes puffy from crying.

  "Everyone hates me." Taylor pressed the back of her hand against her mouth, a fresh volley of tears spilling down her cheeks. Serene had never seen Taylor vulnerable before. Taylor, who was so good at laughing off insults and giving her own little zingers when it pleased her. She always seemed as if nothing got to her.

  "Everyone doesn't hate you," Darpan said with a sigh and then put his arms around her waist. "Come here." He pulled her to him, and she pressed her face into his ches
t, the sobs silent, wracking through her shoulders. Darpan stroked her back until her sobs began to subside, and then he tilted her chin up and kissed her gently on the lips. She didn't pull away. Serene felt her anger return and stood from her squatted position to give Taylor a piece of her mind, but then Taylor was pushing Darpan away.

  "Don't," she said softly.

  He pulled her back toward him, nuzzling her neck. "Relax."

  "I just wanted to talk. That's all. I wanted someone to talk to." Her voice sounded so young, unsure.

  "We are talking, sweetie. We are talking. We are love.”

  He pushed his hips toward hers.

  We are love. The wand always hurts Little Girl after Master says that.

  "Stop it!" Taylor hissed, shoving Darpan from her.

  He stumbled back and Serene held her breath as Darpan came within several feet of the hibiscus bush. He put up his hands in surrender. "I'm gonna go inside. It's all good. Okay? It's all good. We are love, Taylor. We are love.”

  Taylor stood trembling, hugging herself, mouth tugging into a frown. She made a little gasp and turned away.

  Darpan walked right past Serene, up the porch steps and into the house.

  Footsteps. Here I come. We are love.

  The headlights of a car coming down the street blinded Serene for a moment. The car parked and the lights cut out. Someone emerged from the shadows. Tall. Master? Serene’s stomach twisted and she crouched lower, heat flooding her body. She brought her hand to her mouth, clamping it tightly over her lips to hold in the scream as Taylor’s eyes widened with surprise.

  "Julie. Oh my god." Taylor exhaled. "I need to get home. You're a lifesaver. I need––"

  She didn't finish her sentence. From where Serene hid, she could see Julie's face, her eyes black with rage. She pointed a finger at Taylor, who took a step back.

  "You fucking cunt."

  Taylor shook her head.

  "I thought you were my friend. An actual fucking friend."