STORM: IT'S A CURSE TO REMEMBER

by Gurpreet Kaur Sidhu

“I’ve been good. How are you doing? How’s Ryan?”

  Denise sighed. “He’s home now. I wanted to tell you that…well, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner,” she said softly.

  Venice shook her head in nonsense. “Don’t be silly, darlin’. I know you really weren’t mad at me.”

  Denise, wide-eyed, studied Venice.

  There was a long pause before Denise spoke. “You knew Ryan was going to lose his memory, didn’t you?”

  Venice let out a sharp sigh. Her eyes scattered around the table. It was something that had been hanging over her head ever since Ryan’s accident. All she wanted was to sit down with Denise and talk it through. Finally, she met her eyes and agreed.

  “What would have happened if you did tell me about all of this before it happened?”

  Venice didn’t hesitate to answer. “Honey, Ryan wouldn’t have survived.” She paused for a moment, recalling the day it all hit her. She didn’t want to believe it, but her gut told her otherwise. “Ryan losing his memory is better than losing Ryan altogether.”

  Denise sat there, trying to process everything Venice said. She tried her best to keep her composure. Her eyes glistened and with every passing second, she felt herself giving up. Suddenly she was in tears.

  “Oh sweetie,” Venice said, staggering over to wrap her arms around Denise. “Please don’t cry, honey. Everything is going to be fine.”

  The people in the bakery started to look over, wondering what was going on. Some turned and looked away, while others still managed to stare with no shame.

  Mind your business, she thought as she hugged Denise, rocking her.

  “What am I going to do?” Denise wailed. “He doesn’t even remember Nate. Like…what am I supposed to do?”

  Venice wiped the tears away from Denise’s face with the tip of her thumb, while continuing to give onlookers the stare.

  Willow, who stepped out from the back room, caught Venice’s eye. He had a mixture of sadness and concern across his face. Venice waved, gesturing everything was fine. He stood for a couple of seconds before going back.

  “We’ll do everything to help Ryan regain his memory,” she said softly. “It’s not going to happen in a day, but he’ll remember his son.”

  Venice’s throat started to constrict as she thought about the possibility of Ryan never being able to remember Nate. So far there was no vision of Ryan’s fate, but all she could do was hope Ryan would eventually remember bits and pieces of his life with Nate.

  Ryan still had a long road of recovery ahead of him. And that meant anything was possible.

  ***

  Evan pushed the cart around down the aisle looking for cranberry juice. It was one of his favorites along with apple juice, orange juice being on the top of the list. He looked up and down, left and right, trying to locate the drink. Unfortunately for Evan, the Grand Foods Market rearranged the shelves a few days before.

  Oh there it is, he thought, as the red plastic bottle on the bottom shelf caught his eye. He picked up two, placing them in the cart, knowing they would last for a few months before he ran out again.

  Marvin turned the corner, also pushing his cart. He’d thrown random items in his cart as he kept a close eye on Evan and his every turn. He pulled out a box of granola bars off the shelf as he simultaneously peered in Evan’s direction. He is outrageously average, he thought. Dressed simply in jeans and a shirt. The man has no class whatsoever.

  Evan stood still for a moment as he checked the list. He scanned it, making sure there wasn’t anything on the list he could get from the aisle he was currently in. Next on the list was packed cookies, which happened to be in the next aisle.

  The old lady at the end of the aisle seemed to be taking her time. She had been standing there for the last five minutes, checking the labels and putting back the cereal boxes, unsure what she wanted for breakfast tomorrow morning. Evan pushed the cart around, heading back, knowing her indecisiveness would last longer and he didn’t want to spend any more time here than he had to. He wanted to get his shopping over with as quickly as possible.

  Marvin turned his attention back to the box of granola bars as Evan pushed his cart past him. He appeared to look concentrated on the label, but what he was really thinking about was beyond imagination. The horrible and cruel things he wanted to do to Evan, just for having introduced himself to Shadow, was enough to set the inhuman thoughts in motion. He sneered as he put the box away. He turned around and pushed the cart in Evan’s direction.

  Evan continued down the aisle as he looked for the Chips Ahoy! cookies he was fond of. He looked across the shelves. His neck craned to the side, noticing the blue cartons farther down. He pushed the cart with sudden ease, halting to a stop as he picked up two cartons of cookies.

  Marvin subtly eyed Evan. He was tall, broad shoulders and narrow hips—the muscles bulged as he reached for another carton of cookies.

  Well, I see why Shadow would find him appealing, he thought. She always did have a thing for men with muscles. It was disgusting. Why do looks matter more than personalities? He picked up a box of gummy snacks and salt and vinegar potato chips, placed them in the cart, which would then be left idly in an aisle for one of the employees to deal with.

  Evan strolled down the aisle, looking right to left, wondering if there was something new to try. If anything interesting caught his eye, he would add it in the cart.

  Evan reached the end of the aisle. As he passed by the registers, he noticed customers were slowly making their way to the lines. This tempted Evan to speed up and get everything on the list before having to stand in agony.

  Like before, Marvin followed, only a few steps behind.

  ***

  The sun had started to set. Kids in the neighborhoods began to head back inside after playing football or street hockey. It was dinnertime and Denise sat in her car as she pulled a compact mirror from her purse. She examined her face, making sure her eyes hadn’t become puffy from all the crying earlier in Willow’s bakery. The tip of her nose was a bit red, just enough to have it mistaken for a cold winter nose. But the rims of her eyes were visibly red.

  She walked down Kentwood Drive to pick up Nate, who’d been playing at a friend’s house, which was only a couple of houses down to theirs. She came to a gray two-story house, shutters in still creek color and the door painted in Blizzard white, with a white picket fence and professionally done landscaping.

  As she reached the front, Denise pushed the doorbell, took a step back, and slipped her hands into her coat pockets. She looked down closely at her shoes, rubbing the heel against the cement as she waited for someone to open the front door.

  Moments later, Greece Moore appeared at the front door. Her cantaloupe breasts were amped up to her chin, which Denise believed were fake, as well as the lips that were parted and turned up into a smile. No matter what day of the week it was, Greece was always put together, her hair either curled or straightened and she always made sure to wear some color on her lips.

  Greece was married to a neurosurgeon, Zack Moore, who had freckles all over his pale face, eyes set close together, a curved nose, and bright orange hair. Denise always speculated Greece married Zack because of his income. Anyone would have thought so too just by judging the two by their appearance, but she never quite figured it out since they seemed to get along so well in the public eye. Quite frankly, she believed they belonged in Pool View, with their fancy lifestyle.

  “Hi Denise!” Greece squealed in her heavy Southern accent. “How’s your husband doing? I didn’t get a chance to ask.” The sympathetic look started to set in.

  Denise didn’t really want to get into the whole thing. Greece loved to share gossip. It would get around pretty quick—another reason why Denise thought the Moores were better off in Pool View instead of here in Dusk View.

  “He’s doing better day by day,” Denise responded, le
aving out Ryan’s memory loss. She didn’t want any sympathy. It would only make it worse. “How’s Zack?” she said, feeling obligated to ask.

  “Oh, you know, just doin’ surgeries left and right, saving lives.” She chuckled as she twirled a strand of her hair like a young girl in middle school. “Oh, where are my manners?”—waving a hand—“Would you like to come inside for tea or somethin’? We can talk if you’d like.”

  “No. Thanks though,” Denise said, almost forcing the words out. “Is Nate ready? I hope he didn’t cause any trouble.”

  “Oh, hush now. He’s a sweet little child. He’s a delight to have.” Greece smiled, subconsciously pressing her breasts together. “Nate!” she screamed into the house. “Your mommy’s here.”

  Seconds later, Nate showed up at the door with Skylar right beside him. Skylar was dressed in a pantsuit; his curls jelled and dangled in his pale, freckled face. Where was he off to? Denise wondered.

  “Hi sweetie,” Denise said, tracking back to why she was here in the first place. “Ready to go home?”

  “Yeah,” he replied, stepping out with jacket in hand. It concerned Denise that Nate was quiet. Usually he was excited to see her, but not today. Something must’ve happened while she was gone.

  “C’mon, put on your jacket or you’re going to catch a cold,” she said, ignoring her thought.

  “But it’s not that cold.”

  “Yes it is,” she insisted.

  “Kids,” Greece chimed in. “This one never listens,” she said, nodding in Skylar’s direction. “I have to repeat myself a hundred times before I get him to listen.”

  Denise grinned as she assisted Nate with putting his arms in his sleeves. Denise zipped up his jacket and was ready to leave.

  “Thank you for watching Nate, Greece,” Denise said with a smile. “Bye.” Denise headed toward the sidewalk, holding Nate’s hand.

  “Anytime, sweetie. We’re always here for ya. Take care now,” she said, waving.

  Denise looked down at Nate, who kept himself entertained as he kicked around a stone the size of a quarter.

  “So, what did you do today at Skylar’s?” she asked, breaking the silence.

  “Nothing.” He sighed, kicking the stone once again.

  She gripped his hand tighter, not wanting to press, but doing so anyway because it was in her nature to get to the bottom of things, especially with Nate. “What’s wrong, sweetie?”

  He let out another long, exasperated sigh. Nate wasn’t the type of kid who went straight into detail about his feelings. If he felt like sharing, then Denise would get an earful; otherwise, she had to find alternate ways to get Nate to tell her what was really going on.

  “Did something happen at Skylar’s?”

  Nate kept quiet, indicating something did happen.

  “Did Mrs. Moore say something to you, about me and Daddy?”

  Nate shook his head, no.

  “Did Skylar say something to you?” She looked at him for an answer.

  There was a long pause before Nate confessed. “Skylar and his dad are going hot air ballooning and they’re going camping. He went skiing last week too.” Nate’s face wrinkled before he started to whimper.

  They stopped in their tracks. Denise kneeled down, meeting his eyes. “Oh, sweetie,” she said as she pulled him closer, wrapping her arms around him. She fought back the tears, heartbroken, not knowing how she was supposed to handle this. “Why are you crying?”

  “Daddy’s not the same now.”

  “Oh honey, Daddy’s going to recover soon. It’s just taking him more time to get back into the spin of things.”

  “What…if…he doesn’t?” he asked, gulping down his words.

  “Oh, baby, he will. Daddy will. We just have to be patient. Everything’s going to be okay.” She pulled away, looking at his face, wiping the tears from his cheeks.

  Nate wrinkled as nose. “Okay. Promise?”

  “I promise.”

  ***

  After having to wait in the long line at Grand Foods Market, Evan managed to make a quick trip to Bakery Village on the way home after all. Fortunately, he was in and out in five minutes. He picked up the chocolate fudge cake he’d been craving; thankfully there were a few left.

  Evan unloaded the groceries on the kitchen counter, stocking the pantry with fresh bread, a few boxes of dry pasta and sauce, pizza sauce, orange and apple juice, and chocolate chip cookies. In the fridge there was finally some cranberry juice and produce to last at least a week. He eyed the chocolate fudge cake, knowing he had to resist, but it was too good not to have a piece right now.

  Evan tore the seal and grabbed a knife, a fork, and a plate and served himself a slice. He took a bite and his eyes fluttered in delight. Oh my god, he thought, this is too good. The whipped hazelnut frosting melted in his mouth as he started to devour the most satisfying thing he’d ever tasted.

  And there, sitting in front of the back door, was Mr. Jingles—watching every move. Only the cat’s eyes moved as Evan traveled around the room. He placed the plate on the table, keeping his eye on Mr. Jingles as he went to retrieve a carton of milk from the refrigerator.

  Evan turned the cap until he heard the snap indicating the seal was broken, and turned to the cabinets where he kept the glasses.

  And Mr. Jingles sat and observed.

  Evan poured himself a glass, putting the carton back in the refrigerator. He looked on as he held the glass up to his lips before taking a sip.

  Mr. Jingles sat in position.

  I wonder what he’s thinking about, Evan thought. There was something about this cat that made him unordinary.

  Eventually, Evan unlocked the door, sliding it open, letting Mr. Jingles in, who didn’t hesitate to enter.

  “Do you want some milk?” he asked, leaning over and scratching beneath his neck. Mr. Jingles purred and shut his eyes. He was enjoying it. Evan continued for a while before pouring Mr. Jingles some milk in a ceramic plate.

  Evan crouched down and placed the plate in front of Mr. Jingles, who slowly leaned forward, sniffing the plate, and started lapping up the milk.

  Evan’s amusement came to an early end when the doorbell rang. He rose, making his way to the front door. To his surprise, Shadow stood at his doorstep, looking flustered.

  “Have you seen Mr. Jingles?” she asked, cutting to the chase.

  Evan was thrown off by her abruptness. “Yeah,” he finally said. “He’s in the kitchen.”

  Hearing those words brought Shadow relief. There was always a little part of her that believed Mr. Jingles was in harm. It was her first instinct, since nothing good ever happened since she met Marvin.

  She followed Evan and as she did, a sudden sense of peace overcame her. There was something about him that made her feel at ease. Evan made her feel safe. She couldn’t pinpoint it, but she certainly hadn’t felt like this in a long time.

  Mr. Jingles looked up as they entered the kitchen, then continued to indulge in the fresh milk.

  “I came home after doing some grocery shopping and found him sitting out there. I wasn’t sure if he was hungry or not but I gave him some milk anyway.”

  “Well thank you,” she said, tucking her hair behind her ear. She looked at Mr. Jingles with a smile. “I let him out after I came back from work, so he could get some fresh air. He’s just cooped up in the house all day until I get home, you know.” She stood with her hands placed on her hips, staring at Mr. Jingles almost as if daydreaming. Her smile faded and was overtaken by concern. “I just get really worried about him. I don’t want anything to happen to him.”

  Evan examined Shadow, sensing there was more to the story.

  “Would you like some cake?” he asked, keeping the thought as close to his mind as possible. “It’s really good.” He grinned as the words slipped out.

  Shadow eyed the
cake, knowing she shouldn’t indulge. She wasn’t much of a fitness freak but she did make sure to keep her diet healthy. She had soda every once in a while and stayed away from candy as much as possible. It was a difficult diet to keep, but she tried, and that counted for something. At least that was what she told herself.

  “Fine,” she said, giving in mischievously.

  Evan held eye contact for a moment, still finding Shadow to be surreal.

  “You’re going to love it.” He pulled out a plate and fork, slicing a decent-sized piece. “This is the best of the best. No cake can compare to this.”

  She gave him a flirtatious look mixed with uncertainty. “This cannot be the best of the best,” she answered, pursing her lips, trying to contain her giggle.

  He scoffed. “Just wait until you try it.”

  “I’m going to regret this in the morning,” she murmured.

  “We all do.” He snickered. “Do you want some milk with that?”

  “Yeah, sure.” She pulled up a chair, feeling comfortable.

  “Some people like to drink 7-Up or Coke with cake. I tried it once. Let me tell you something,” he said, pausing as he poured a glass of milk, “it does not go well with cake. Take my word for it.” He placed the gallon of milk back in the refrigerator. “Milk is meant for cake. Like peanut butter to a jelly sandwich.”

  She met his eyes. “I’ll take your word for it.”

  He sat down in front of her, moving his plate toward him. He glanced at Shadow for a moment as she dug into the cake. It sent shivers up his spine, just by having her in his home, sitting right across from him. Memories of his past came flashing back. The way she begged and pleaded for him to stop torturing her. It made his heart sink. How could someone be so cruel? It was inhumane. And the more time he spent with her, the more he was convinced she walked into his life for a reason.

  “Wow,” she said, her eyes widened. “You weren’t lying.” She pointed at the cake with her fork as she took a sip of her drink. “This tastes amazing.”

  “See, I told you.”

  “So,” she began, her words lingering, “have you finished the garden yet?”