Remember Me (Weaver Series)

by Dena Nicotra

  I didn’t change any of this because I decided I needed the extra time. There are instances when I disagree, and push back -- and others when I just let time be. This was one of those ‘let it be’ instances. I needed to do this slowly, and very carefully. Of course, it was possible to make the necessary adjustments and place myself at my final destination, but I would miss everything in between. I didn’t dare take that risk since I didn’t understand exactly what I was looking for. Besides, I was pushing my extra senses beyond my comfort zone as it was.

  I pulled a book from my bag and took a seat at the end of a connected row of gray plastic chairs. The pages of a good book offered a safe place to hide. With a mind like mine, hiding from the events of any moment (present or visible future) isn’t easy. To say I love books well, that would be an understatement. If the story is good, I can shift my focus and actually escape for a while. As another added benefit, I also learn about the world beyond my little neck of the woods. Places, styles, romance – you name it. Books can be better teachers than people ever could. I do think that aside from personal experience, a book is the best way to learn just about anything. Well, the internet helps too, but since our connections were so slow, (another added benefit of living in a rural area) I didn’t spend much time online. To say my sheltered life lacked true insight is about the equivalent of asking a farmer to do the work of a doctor (or vice-versa). Even still, my ability to muddle through things often surprised even me. I managed quite nicely between intuition and collecting information from books.

  This day was different. Everything familiar and mundane in my life was about to change, and I had no intention of actually reading. Books also afford me the convenient appearance of normality. I buried my nose in a tattered copy of Wuthering Heights and focused internally on some much needed arrangements. This was the first time I had left my family (other than a class camping trip in my senior year) and I needed to set up my reasons. I’d only been gone for about an hour, but my folks would be waking up soon. Establishing things as I planned would take some work.

  I decided it best to use school as a motive for my departure and gave myself a college career in California. I expected I might actually be there for some time and my being away at college seemed plausible -- at least more so than me just moving away to another state all by myself for a job or something. Not that plausibility is a critical factor in anything I change, but it had been known to stir confusion. Like the time I tried to give myself a horse when there was no money in my parent’s budget for said horse. That’s a change I had to undo when the arguments between my folks started. They each blamed the other for such an irresponsible decision. In the end, I was unable to enjoy my beautiful chestnut Quarter horse. I had named him Kisses because he would come up to me when I sat on the fence and let me kiss his strong muzzle. I loved that sweet horse, and undoing my decisions left my heart broken. The worst part of it all was being unable to share with my family why I was so sad.

  That’s another aspect of my “gift” that I had to learn along the way. You can’t bring up things that you “fix” or “undo” to people that no longer have the memories. Once it’s gone, it’s just gone. People simply don’t have those memories anymore. It’s like a game of concentration that’s gone bad, or a puzzle that has way too many little bitty pieces. When I’d slip up on some detail (especially when I was younger), people would just think I was crazy. Judgment errors along the way had taught me a thing or two. As a result, I like to keep the changes I make as close to natural as possible. I’m not really the worldly type, but I had always been reasonably good in school so I figured it would do.

  It was October but I planted the memories of my departure from Little Rock in late August. I figured this would work best because it seemed like a natural progression that I would go off to college at the end of summer. I didn’t want to leave any holes, or gaps in my efforts to make these adjustments to time. Time is something easily rearranged if you keep your plans clear as you move along. Otherwise, it’s just messy and can cause strange side effects. That’s the truth behind déjà vu.

  In fact, the French have a whole bunch of words to explain the side effects of what I do. I learned about that from a Cajun English teacher that I confused the beans out of when I re-did her class three times in a row in the same day so that I could study the dynamics of shifts in verb tenses. I found the whole idea of the logical movement of pros a fascinating parallel to my life. Of course, there’s no such thing as perfect tenses for me! The next day I came to class surprised to find the usually impeccable woman a disheveled wreck. Mrs. Ledet did not seem to notice that her blouse was buttoned incorrectly, or that she had no makeup on. She spent the whole hour rambling to equally glassy-eyed students about déjà vu, jamais vu, and presque vu. The latter best describes how I feel about the mystery voice in my head. It was seriously difficult not to repeat that hour of class a few times because it was even more interesting to me. Fortunately, I’d thought my plans through this time…well as much as I could anyway.

  With a new year of school starting, life in our sleepy little town would get very busy. Bailey, my little sister would be starting her first year of high school and our folks would find enough issues with her cheerleading activities to keep them focused. In the meantime, I would be able to concentrate on the strange pull I felt to him. I couldn’t give him a name because it just wasn’t there yet. I could hear his laugh and see his smile in my mind…but the details of who he was just hid from me like a grey goose in a fog. It wasn’t until three days ago that I even knew my phantom had specific intentions. He had never asked anything of me directly. Everything up until this point had been random images, whispers that I didn’t always understand, and brief glimpses that made no sense. I was sound asleep and his whispering voice woke me up saying, “Joey, you have to come to California, we have unfinished business.” He quickly whispered instructions that I scribbled on a notepad as fast as I could. Hence, my hasty quest to hop on an airplane and scuttle my butt to Los Angeles (something just a smidge terrifying to be honest).

  As I sat with my eyes locked on the page, quietly tying up the final details of my changes I was abruptly caught off guard.

  “Kalan!” I heard the shout so clearly that I jumped in my seat.

  It was more like I felt it deep inside my head. Something was wrong. Confronted with the vivid images that followed, I dropped my coffee and the hot contents of the cup splashed fiercely down my dress, burning my legs. I hardly noticed. My mind was focused on the inside of a car. A female voice – a passenger who seemed somehow familiar to me was screaming what I instinctively realized was his name. I could feel her fear as I watched the changing images of sky, chaparral brush, windshield, and flying debris. Her thoughts were frantic and determined at the same time. She was afraid, angry, and oddly hopeful all at once. The car was rolling violently down the side of a rocky mountain. When I say I watched, I should clarify that I usually cannot see anything in my own world. It’s like I’m transported to the location of what I see. It’s like a glimpse of time captured on a video, and I’m in it…but of course I’m not really transported. I’m sure I just look like I am zoning out or something.

  In this glimpse, I was watching like I normally do but there were giant blanks that kept occurring. I was in the car, hearing the crunching metal, and then I was in blackness. I couldn’t decipher what was happening in between the blank spots, but I knew it was a bad accident because there was intense physical pain associated with both the driver and the passenger.

  “Are you alright Miss?” An elderly man’s voice startled me back to the present. His smile was patient but I sensed his inquisitiveness as he extended a napkin. It was embarrassing to be yanked back like that, but it also kind of ticked me off. I needed to see what I was seeing! Despite that, I was simultaneously aware of other annoying facts. Like if given the opportunity, this bald man in the crisp business suit would talk until the flight boarded about his recent business successes, and his
oldest son’s business failures. He lived for his work and loved passing the time conversing with strangers in his frequent travels. Of course, his perspectives were conveniently one-sided. The man was a walking me-me-me show and I got the clear sense that he was revving up for a nice long chat. Ugh! I didn’t need this. Not right now.

  “Yes sir. Thank you. I’m fine,” I murmured and quickly buried my nose in my book. At the same time, I took the napkin to pat at the wet splotches on my dress without making eye contact. Relief washed over me when he stopped starring and returned to his newspaper. My legs hurt but I didn’t have the strength to rearrange the last few minutes. That is to say, undo me dropping the cup and send this man in a different direction before he sat down near me. Besides, I wanted to play that glimpse back in my head before I lost the vibrancy. I shoved the wet napkin into the cup holder in the chair arm and curiously wondered why I saw an accident. I wondered if he was hurt. This thought sent my pulse into race mode. I took a deep calming breath and turned the page of my book (I’d been staring at the same page for way too long). Well, at least I knew his name now. That was a start.

  My hands were still shaking as I presented my ticket, boarded the plane, and took a seat next to the window. Though I’d never flown before, I felt a strange tug of déjà vu as I took my seat. I re-positioned my bag on my lap, shut my eyes, and concentrated on fixing the small burns on my legs, and then the nasty looking stain on my dress. Next, I focused on relaxing my shoulders. My mind was overloaded and I just needed to breathe. The seat beside me remained empty as the plane started to taxi down the runway. I was thankful for that because if someone had sat down, I would have felt obligated to chat. I consider myself a ‘people-person’, but right now I needed my full concentration to focus on this new bit of insight. With my eyes tightly closed, I blocked out the sounds around me and waited.

  Once again, the flashes started. His laughter -- hearty and sweet as honey. Sunlight bounced around him. It appeared to be late afternoon light. I inhaled deeply and could actually smell the cedar-filled aroma of his hair. His head tilted to the left and the depth of his blue eyes took my breath away. Then the vision expanded and I saw a small field surrounded by trees. He was laying down on his side, his head propped on his elbow. The earth around him was the color of dry wheat. I watched as little particles of dried grass blew in the air around him. I realized that he was talking, but I couldn’t hear what he was saying. I concentrated harder and tried to see more.

  It was no use. The sounds around me returned and I opened my eyes feeling a deep sense of disappointment. My heart was doing little flip-flops and my hands were shaking even harder than they were before. Everything about him made me crazed with interest. Why was he so intriguing? Why did he exist only in my head? I had no answers for that, but I hoped that I would soon. No measure of time could ease the ache I felt in my heart for a person I longed to know beyond the confines of my mind. The reality that I had no control over this made me even more anxious. I pushed up the window shade and looked down at the patchwork of green below. It seemed as if we were hardly moving. Hurry time. Let me find him. Let me understand why this is happening.

  Nearly a month had passed since the first indication of him had come to me on a breezy afternoon shortly after my Papaw died. I’d been so consumed by grief that I decided to take advantage of the cooler temperature by taking some quiet time for myself down by the bayou near my home. That first experience was powerful. Although I’d had little glimpses come on me in the past; this one was different. What made it so different was the fact that it was not a one-sided thing where I was peeping in. I felt the reciprocation of the perception of my presence This was intense and nearly tangible. It was enough to let me know there was something big to come. Not knowing what that “something” was changed everything. I can usually sense when new people will be coming into my life. I am only aware of their purpose at first, like a new teacher at school, or a person coming to our door to sell us something. Once I have that sense established, it’s like I’m in, and I am connected. I can get the physical image of the person after that pretty clearly.

  This time it was different in that respect as well because I had the glimpse first but no purpose followed. I couldn’t connect a thing. Nothing but random images, smells, sounds - everything felt out of order and disconnected. When you can pretty much change any situation, there really isn’t much reason to feel fear. This, however, was entirely new. It was also out of my control, and therefore frightening.

  “Joey, please don’t be afraid, just come to me.”

  I choked in air and opened my eyes. Was I dreaming? His face was so close. I could feel his warm breath on my ear and smell the cedar scent of his hair. Everything felt so real, I was sure that I was actually with him. Glimpses didn’t do that. I convinced myself it must have been a dream. The flight from Little Rock to California was nearly five hours long and it was already landing. I hadn’t been sleeping all that well and now apparently my dreams were affected. Great! Just what I needed, interrupted sleep. I jerked my bag from the overhead compartment and inched my way down the skinny isle. For the first time in my life I was grateful that I’m a small person (almost 5-1’) because it was tough even for me to manage the tight space. I paused behind a heavy-set woman in a floral dress who struggled to hold her carry-on piece in front of her as she twisted sideways to move along. She gave me an apologetic smile and I tried to keep my expression equally positive. Looking down, I noticed that her foot was in a strange fitted boot. I realized that she had missed a step and fallen while trying to carry groceries into her home. I quickly undid that and smiled to myself when I looked down again to see the walking cast replaced by pretty pink sandals. I felt a swift surge of happiness and it perked me up a little bit. In truth, there were many people on the flight that needed a little help. I could feel it all around me as random images assaulted my mind.

  My nerves were live wires and my heart was jumping around in my chest. It was all I could do to maintain a calm expression on my face. I wasn’t used to being around so many strangers in such a close space, and as selfish as it was -- I just wanted off the plane so that I could get to my destination. There was so much that I had not structured. I’d been so sure of myself before I’d left home but the reality hit me hard as I inched down the aisle. I had made decisions far too quickly and now that fact was clearly evident to me. What did I know about the city? Los Angeles was like another planet for God’s sake. I chided myself as I huffed through the airport.

  I glanced up at a large digital clock on the wall. It was a little after twelve in the afternoon. Even though my stomach said it was two o’clock. I decided the first thing I needed to do was to get something to eat and try to get my nerves to calm down. Maybe then I could focus on preparing my living arrangements.

  The choices were limited unless I wanted to spend energy on changes, so I ordered a huge slice of pepperoni pizza and a large iced tea from a pale girl with brown straggly hair who would soon be quitting her job to go back to school (thanks to a quick fix). I picked off the greasy pieces of pepperoni and nibbled small bites until I began to feel better. Then I lingered in the glimpses of the people around me. I felt a little more centered with some food in my stomach so I did what had become instinctive to me. Since I was so deeply aware of events in time, there was some benefit that I could provide to people. As I fixed little things here and there, I began to realize that this pay it forward (or back) made me feel better. Not just better for doing a good deed, that is a given. Everyone feels better if they can help another person in some small way. This goes beyond the benevolence of human nature. It restores some of my energy or something.

  The man to my right was going to be a speck better off when he sold his house, and the young couple to my left would be a good deal happier in Colorado. No need to make any changes there. The lady at the table in front of me talked on her cell phone and if she got any louder I would restructure the woman’s decision to eat here. Fortunate
ly, she left before I had to expend the energy. I watched as she tootled off cackling into her phone. Wow, that was annoying. I got a quick flash of this woman’s young daughter (being embarrassed) by her mother’s escapades on the telephone and I tried not to laugh aloud.

  Jolted from my thoughts, I heard Kalan’s voice again. It was clearer this time than it had ever been. If I didn’t know better I would swear he was sitting right next to me, and I thought I felt the brush of his lips. His quick laugh was charming and sweet as if he had just ran into a friend he was not expecting to see. Then ever so quietly he spoke.

  “Joey, it is so good to see you are getting stronger! I need you so much.” I had to fight the urge to respond verbally. Since he wasn’t actually there, I doubted he could hear me. This made me sad, yet there was the strangest sense of joy in my heart when I heard him speak my name. The whispery quality to his voice made my insides feel like hot coals. Then just as quickly, there was nothing but the sounds of the people around me. The sense of loss hurt and threatened to crush me. These past few weeks had been terribly difficult.

  The decision to leave home and follow my instincts wasn’t like me (at all). I had lived my whole life in Arkansas and never felt any reason to leave. I was a good student, and had never gotten into trouble. I was the kind of person who followed rules, didn’t make waves, and generally minded my elders. This situation was changing everything. In fact, it was now controlling me, driving me like a freight train and all I could do was hold on.

  I managed to eat the pizza and took another sip of my tea, (which I’d had to add sugar too, California doesn’t serve sweet tea apparently). A full stomach made me feel a little better, but I knew I had a lot of work to do. I pushed the paper plate away and tugged my book from my bag so that I could focus on structuring. The sounds around me began to merge into a lull of static as I whirred through the designs of my new life in L.A. I closed my eyes tight and focused on my apartment. I didn’t usually set up so much at one time and I was beginning to feel the strain. Nothing too fancy, just a place to call home. I concentrated on the details that were necessary and visualized myself going up a flight of stairs (because I didn’t want to be on the bottom floor). Next I focused on a stove, refrigerator, kitchen table, and a couch. There was so much to think about. I lost myself in the details of infinite decisions that were never ones I planned to “arrange” for my first place. I would have much preferred to do things the normal way but there just wasn’t time. It would be a work in progress.