Her Last Memory

by C. A. Wittman

  Serene didn't really understand this mom thing yet, but he was her son. Had been her son even before Dora took over. Somehow she had to find a way to invoke confidence in her children. The gender identity movement was beyond her and Serene still didn't quite get it, but that wasn't important. What was important was how Jesse felt. How Erica felt, too, she conceded.

  Since last night, Dora's life was flooding her mental imagery like a jackpot in a slot machine. Still, she struggled to find the memories that belonged to her, Serene.

  "I'm fine with whoever you want to be, Jesse."

  This won her a small smile.

  "The thing about me," she began and then paused, trying to figure out how to explain herself without scaring him. "Well, the thing about me is that my memory loss has knocked me back a few years."

  He blinked, tossing his bangs away from his eyes, reminding her of his dad when he was young. "How many years?" He asked.

  "So many," her voice caught, but she forced herself to continue. "So many, that, really, my last memory is being a girl about Barbara's age. And I was living in this house with Ramani and Aarav and Darpan. The office was my bedroom and I was in high school. Your dad lived across the street, and Carrie––" she was feeling breathless. "Carrie was, like, thirteen."

  Jesse's mouth formed a tight O. He stared at her, riveted. "You mean you just, like, woke up one day and you were you now, but all you remember is being a kid?"

  Serene nodded. "Basically."

  He smacked his palm to his forehead, which made Serene smile. "Oh. My. God." He exclaimed. "My wig just flew."

  Serene laughed. "That's a funny one."

  "What?"

  "My wig just flew."

  "It's like shock, you know," Jesse said. "Total shock. But," he paused, thinking. "If you only remember being a teenager, then we weren't around yet."

  Serene shook her head. "No. You weren't."

  He sat silently with that for some moments. "Is that why you've been so strange?"

  "Yeah," Serene said softly. "Like you, I've been trying to figure out who I am."

  Jesse lifted his hand from under hers, pushing his fingers through her fingers. "I'll help you."

  "And I'll help you," Serene said. They shared a smile.

  "Do you want to be called Mom, or Serene, or Dora?"

  "Jesse, you can call me Mom. I am your mom. And eventually––my doctor, she says my memories should come back. Some of them already have."

  Jesse pulled his hand from hers, stood, and walked around the table to hug her.

  "Where are the others?" Serene asked.

  "Oh. They went to the store to stock up because of the virus. Just in case things get bad." He pulled back. "But Grandpa Ron said it'll probably blow over in two weeks. I think maybe he's right."

  "Maybe." She looked over her shoulder out the window where she could see Ron and Maggie's house across the street.

  "I'll be right back," she told her son and stood.

  "Where're you going?"

  "I want to talk to your grandparents for a minute."

  * * *

  A fluttery feeling of nerves settled in Serene's throat after she rang the Bate's doorbell. Ron answered. His hand was bandaged, his eyes slits of mistrust. He wasn't wearing his baseball cap, and Serene saw that he still had a full head of dark grey hair. He stood with his arms dangling at his sides.

  Serene wasn't sure what she wanted to say to this man. This man who was the grandfather of her children, the father of the love of her life. A breeze picked up and it whipped at the American flag he had erected in the yard. She opened her mouth to tell him that she was sorry about what happened at dinner last night, but the words felt stuck. She wanted to tell him how happy she'd been to see him and Maggie, how at one time their home felt like a refuge of sorts. That they embodied something she craved, but couldn't exactly describe, that she didn't know anything about politics or the president and that she didn't care because what she knew was that they were good people. She wanted to tell him all these things, but time had created a chasm of difference. She could see that now—a gulf of suspicion, distrust and doubt. Something had taken shape or form that she couldn't define. A tension that had to do with a world that she didn't understand yet.

  Maggie came up behind her husband, her lips pressed tight and twisted to the side. "Dora," she said.

  "I'm not Dora anymore. I'm Serene."

  "Oh, right. Yes." Maggie ran a hand through her short hair. "What can we do for you?"

  "I came by to tell you that it was nice to see you last night, and I hope that you'll come around more."

  Her words fell on silence, but Ron's jaw seemed to relax. He cleared his throat and gave a little nod.

  "Well, we'll do what we can," Maggie said.

  The flag flapped harder in the wind, catching Serene's eye.

  "You got a bigger flag," she said, suddenly taking notice of this.

  "We're proud of our country," Ron replied.

  "America's a good country," Serene agreed, unsure what he was getting at.

  He looked caught off guard, and then he smiled, a genuine smile. "That's something we can agree on."

  There were many things they could agree on, she thought to herself, but she stepped back. "Anyway. Hopefully…" She wasn't sure what to say. "I don't think I've ever been to a baseball game. Maybe we could go to one with the kids."

  Ron's mouth fell open.

  "We would love that," Maggie spoke for him.

  Serene turned to leave.

  "Serene?" Maggie called out.

  "Yes?"

  "Do you guys have everything you need over there?"

  Serene cocked her head, uncertain. "Everything we need?"

  "You know, with the virus. Everyone's going crazy, buying up all the toilet paper and Lysol wipes. We have a whole box of Lysol wipes I got at Costco last month."

  "Oh. Erica and Cuppa are out buying stuff."

  "Well, if you need anything, just let us know."

  "You too." Maggie's offering felt like a small peace offering.

  "We've decided to postpone our trip," Maggie added.

  "I had to get stitches," Ron spoke up. "Can't really do any swimming now, so what's the point?"

  Serene nodded.

  "If you want to bring the kids by to play in the pool when the weather gets warmer, we could do a BBQ. Just give us a heads up if that crazy mother of yours is going to be around." Ron said.

  Serene smiled. "I will." She waved and jogged back across the street, glimpsing her son's face through the window. He watched her curiously and when she caught his eye, he grinned.

  * * *

  They came bustling through, carrying boxes and bags of groceries. Serene and Jesse pitched in to help while Cuppa set about putting things away. On Serene's third trip out to the car, she found Erica standing empty-handed in the driveway, staring at Maggie and Ron's house.

  "You okay?" Serene asked.

  Erica turned to look at her, but they seemed a million miles away.

  "Erica?"

  "I could use a walk," Erica said and began walking toward town. Serene jogged to catch up and then fell into step with them, matching their fast stride.

  "Hey! Where are you guys going?" Sara yelled after them.

  "We'll be back," Serene said, waving her away.

  Erica kept up their pace. Across from Jackson Market, they suddenly stopped, silently eyeing Serene.

  "I can't do this anymore," Erica said.

  Serene held her wife's gaze, waiting.

  Erica took a breath. "Carrie told me last night––when I called to find out where you were because you weren't answering your phone––she told me that your memories came back."

  "Some of them," Serene said quietly.

  "And she told me," Erica continued, "that you had gone off with Steve to talk. You came home at one in the morning. I know because I was waiting up."

  "I'm sorry. I should have called."

  "But it's not really ab
out that, whether you called or not. It's more about the fact that you are completely and utterly emotionally absent from me, Serene. You are different from the woman you were."

  Serene sucked in her cheeks, a sick feeling settling in her belly. Erica was right. Erica, who had shown her every kindness and consideration, who had loved her for years, stood by her during this horrible amnesia. If there was any way Serene could return that love, she would, but she just couldn't. She couldn't love Erica the way she needed to be loved.

  "I saw the way you and Steve were looking at each other last night. Did you sleep with him?"

  Serene's eyes skipped away. She couldn't bear to see the pain on Erica's face.

  "You know, when I was shopping with Cuppa, going from one store to the next, trying to stock up on everything we'd need for our household, I kept asking myself: what for?"

  "Erica."

  "No. I need to say what I need to say. I thought that if I was just patient enough, if I just hung in there, we could ride this thing out together. In time, you'd remember what I meant to you, the life we built. I was even willing to overlook this attraction you've so obviously developed for your ex because I thought that when the real you returned, you'd remember us, and none of what came before us would matter." Erica's eyes swam with tears and they swallowed. "But she's not coming back, is she?"

  Serene took Erica's hand, and they let her.

  "When the memories came, they were Dora's. Not mine."

  "Not yours?" Erica's eyes searched hers.

  "I'm not Dora."

  Erica gasped and Serene squeezed her hand.

  "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." And for the first time, Serene reached out to hug Erica, letting Dora's wife cry against her shoulder.

  61

  Counselor: Claudia Lipstein, Session Date: April 15, 2020

  Time: 2:00 PM, Session #34

  Client Name: Dora Jones/Serene Hokulani

  * * *

  (D) The client seemed centered and calm today. This is our sixth session of one on one counseling following her separation with her wife, Erica. Since the client rejected trying to conform to the identity of Dora and has embraced the identity of Serene, she appears happier and more comfortable with herself and has formed a tenuous connection with her children, especially Barbara and Jesse. The client was also radiant from a state of infatuation and the renewed relationship with the father of her children. She spoke repeatedly about Steve throughout the session. I gently reminded her that she was in a state of influx with assimilating these different aspects of herself and that her relationship with Steve could be transient.

  * * *

  There has been a breakthrough today in that Serene has allegedly admitted to previous knowledge of Dora. When I questioned her more about this, she told me that throughout her life she has experienced periodic blackouts and that she would learn after recovering from them that she was going around as someone called Dora, although she never had any memory of being Dora. She said that this was the first time Dora had taken over her life so completely and for so long. Serene confided that she’s always kept these memory disruptions secret out of shame and embarrassment. The client confessed to having one friend who she did confide in about this secret and who usually helped by filling her in on what she missed when she experienced a memory disruption.

  * * *

  Which personality is primary and which is alternate out of the two, Serene and Dora, is not obvious. There is one other alternate, Sahana, who I have yet to see again, and possibly a fourth, a very young child, although that personality has not made itself clearly known.

  * * *

  Interestingly, the memories Serene regained in March belong to Dora. When I asked the client about these memories, she described them as memories outside of herself, like recalling the experiences of a character in a book. The amnesia persists from roughly July 1996 until some time in 2014 when Dora takes over.

  * * *

  (P) I will continue to see the client one on one, in family therapy and in couples counseling. In our next appointment I’d like to explore this new memory recollection of life as Dora and what this might mean for Serene. I have no doubt that at some point Dora will return, and when she does I think we might get a better sense of who the client might is.

  62

  Steve - May 2020

  * * *

  Steve checked his calendar. It seemed he was busier with work than ever, helping entertainment companies navigate the complicated business of shutting down productions and negotiating with unions. He made himself a cup of coffee, blinking away the gritty tired feeling in his eyes. Last night he'd picked Serene up late from her house and brought her back at five in the morning so she wouldn't be missed. Hours of lovemaking and going to sleep at close to six in the morning had left him feeling like the walking dead.

  Erica had moved out in March, allowing his relationship with Serene to blossom. So far, they were keeping everything low-key for the kids. Sara, especially, did not take Erica's leaving well and blamed both him and Serene for the abrupt change in their family dynamic. With everyone home, it was hard to squeeze in discreet amorous visits.

  Serene still could not remember how to drive, and ride-shares like Lyft and Uber were no longer a good option, hence his driving back and forth. Recently, Steve brought up the idea of teaching her how to drive. Serene still had her license as Dora Jones; all she needed were some lessons. Maybe she'd retained some of her muscle memory, he had mused.

  Serene's memories were oddly patchy. She recalled certain aspects of her life while other parts were strangely blacked out. She could remember nothing of the two weeks prior to losing her memory, and she still couldn't remember talking to Darpan about Mara. She spoke of other memories in the third person, the ones that belonged to her when she was Dora. The family had begun virtual therapy with Serene's therapist. When Steve mentioned to Claudia the odd way Serene referred to herself, the therapist explained to him that Dora was not Serene. Although he understood that Serene suffered from dissociative identity disorder, he could never get over the small shocks that came with knowing this new part of her. Serene's memories as Serene were strongest from her teen years and childhood and remained vague or missing altogether past the age of sixteen.

  The light of his phone flashed at him from the counter and he picked it up.

  “Steve?” Carrie's voice blared out through the speaker. She sounded upset.

  “Yeah. What's up?”

  “They found Mara.” Carries' voice cracked and she gave a little sob. Steve's blood ran cold.

  “Is she… alive?”

  “No,” Carrie's voice whispered back at him. “I just got off the phone with Barbara. Gina called her, sobbing her eyes out. Christ!”

  “What happened?”

  “She fell off that point––you know that steep area on their land in Topanga?”

  Steve closed his eyes, his stomach dropping at the thought. “Jesus.”

  “I know.”

  “Where are you?”

  “Mom and Dad’s. Where else?”

  After the shutdown, Carrie had moved in with their parents. Although she still got paid for her job as a flight attendant for American Airlines, she wasn't working.

  Steve stopped by a few times at Enzo's when Mara had first gone missing, but the visits were awkward. The two had never really hit it off as friends.

  “Barbara went over there,” Carrie said.

  Barbara just barely got her driver's license in time, the week of the shutdown. She now drove the old red Mustang convertible. Steve had kept it garaged for her, fending off Tera, who had wanted to take possession of the vehicle.

  “How was she discovered?” Steve asked of Mara.

  “I don't know. I thought maybe we could pay our respects. In a socially distanced way,” Carrie added lamely.

  “Yeah, of course. Let me just shuffle some things around. I'll be right over.”

  Steve stood for a moment, thinking. Two months ago, Serene re
gained parts of her memory and confessed to him that she had seen Mara––or Julie––assault Taylor. Darpan continued to call sporadically and leave messages. With the prisons closed to visitors, their plan to see him was scrapped. And then there had been the fact that Mara was missing, her family in pain. Steve and Serene had discussed whether it was the best thing to bring up a dim memory slandering Mara's name, kicking her family while they were down.

  * * *

  Carrie was at Serene's when Steve pulled into the driveway. She answered the door. Serene, Jesse, Sara and Cuppa sat solemnly in the living room.

  “Barbara just called,” Carrie said. “The family doesn't want anyone over right now.”

  “Oh.” He took a seat, feeling a sense of relief. He hadn't been looking forward to stopping at the Morenos’ during such a tragic moment. A sensitive time for a family, which might be made excruciatingly awkward with the stilted way he and Enzo acted toward each other in the best of times.

  Sara was resting her head against Cuppa, the woman's arm around her shoulder. A heavy silence blanketed the room, and then Cuppa rose up, smoothing down her dress just as Steve took a seat.

  “Right,” she said. “I'll put on a pot of water.”

  “It feels like the world's coming to an end,” Sara said in a small voice, and Jesse took her hand.

  Steve leaned forward in his chair. “We're in unprecedented times, but we'll make it through, Sara.”

  His daughter glanced at him sadly. “She must have been so scared when she fell, like Cedar.”

  Serene placed her hands between her legs, her dark eyes big and haunted. “We can make cards for Mara's family,” she said quietly. “And later, when they're ready, we can bring our love.”

  That afternoon, they cut, colored and pasted. Barbara came home a few hours later and filled them in on more details when Sara and Jesse were out of earshot. A neighbor who had a second home below the Morenos’ had recently come back to wait out the pandemic in Topanga. When the neighbor went out to his deck and looked over, he'd seen the fabric of Mara's shirt and then noticed what was left of her body wedged between brambles in the gulch below. Coyotes must have made off with pieces of her.