Keep Me in Mind

by Jaime Reed

  “It’s already happened to you and Ellia!” he erupted. “She can’t remember who you are because you couldn’t leave that girl alone and you’re using her to fill some void that your mother left. I know you, son. I know how you think and feel, because I was just like you at your age. We McPhersons love hard and it can run wild if it’s not put in check.”

  A hush swept over the kitchen, and all I could hear was my raging pulse. Wade remained catatonic at the counter, neither taking a side nor interfering. His wide eyes darted between me and Dad, his milk mustache dripping to his chin.

  Dad came closer until he stood a foot away from me. His stare leveled mine as he waited for my reaction. “Well, the truth’s out now. What’s next? You going to see her?”

  A week ago, I would’ve said, “Yep! Don’t wait up.” It was a whole other situation now, and everything, including my anger, felt pointless. I shook my head for an answer.

  Dad grunted his approval, but he didn’t look ready to celebrate, either. “Have you talked to your mother recently?”

  “No.”

  “You might want to do that before you make any major decisions. I’m not a shrink or anything, but you need to get right with her before you can expect to get right with any other woman.” He returned to the sink as if nothing ever happened.

  I only stared, knowing he was probably right and hating him for it. Wade continued to look confused and ridiculous with that mustache, and I left the kitchen feeling half my age.

  In my room, I slammed the door so hard that it nearly ripped from the frame. I grabbed my phone and earbuds then lay across my bed and draped an arm over my eyes. The world compressed into a black vacuum where my heartbeat kept in time with the death metal roaring in my ears at full volume.

  Four tracks later, I heard a light tapping on my door. I told whoever it was to go away, but that seemed to translate as an invitation because the door opened.

  Over the loud music, I heard a low voice say, “Ellia has amnesia.”

  I paused the song and uncovered my eyes to find Wade standing in the doorway. His head hung low, his manner as timid as a child awaiting punishment. After what happened at the dance, I’d kept my distance from him until I cooled down. Wade knew well enough to give me space, but he was jumping ahead of schedule.

  I never told him about Ellia’s condition, but I assumed he would’ve figured it out by now. Nosy as he was, he should’ve at least tapped Dad for that information. “You didn’t know that?” I asked.

  “No. I thought she just bumped her head.” He ran a hand through his mop of hair. “Kendra told me about her and Cody at the dance. That explains a lot. Except it didn’t explain why you didn’t tell me.” The hurt rang clear in his voice. “I asked you about that day on the beach. I asked about the blood on your clothes. I thought we were family.”

  “We are, but—”

  “But what?” he snapped. “You thought I was gonna talk? Spread it around school? Alert the media? What?”

  “All the above,” I muttered.

  “Not with something like this.” He paced the floor space in front of my bed. “I know a thing or two about shocking family secrets, Liam. I was one. I know a little bit about abandonment issues, too.”

  I knew this was a sore subject for him, but that had nothing to do with my decision. “Wade, you’re a part of this family. Dad accepts you and so do I—”

  “I’m talking about your mother,” he interrupted me. “She bailed on you like mine bailed on me. And I’m not even gonna go into that whole thing with Natalie that messed me up for months. So now, if any girl comes along, I’ve got my guard up, waiting for the other shoe to drop. The first whiff of drama that hits my nose—I’m out. I have to be the one who breaks it off.”

  “Does Kendra know that?” I asked.

  “Yeah. But it’s different when you actually want to be with that person. You’ll do anything to make them stay,” he said. “It’s funny—you spend all this time hoping something good will come along and when it does, you’re terrified that it’ll be taken away from you. You’re miserable either way. That’s how you were with Ellia. You’d do anything to make her happy out of fear of getting dumped.”

  I never thought of it that way. I also never thought I’d get relationship advice from Wade.

  “And you think I’m like that because of … my mom?”

  He nodded. “I agree with Jack—you need to call her. Let her know how she hurt you but then accept the fact that it was never about you.”

  “I could give you that same advice,” I countered.

  “And I would take it, too, if my mom returned my calls.” With a heavy sigh, he sat on the edge of my bed. “All I’m saying is find closure where you can get it and go on with your life. Kendra told me a good quote the other day: Absorb what is useful. Discard what is not and add what is uniquely ours.”

  I’d never heard that line before. “Who’s that from? Socrates?”

  “Nope. Bruce Lee.” His hands sliced through the air in a series of kung fu poses. “Now about this Ellia business … ”

  We talked for a while about Ellia’s condition and I told him about Lessthanthree. Next came the theories on how to get Ellia’s memory back, including Wade’s ingenious plot to knock Ellia over the head with a barbell, as he claimed it worked in a cartoon he once saw. Now that I thought about it, he and Kendra made a good couple.

  After he left, I attempted to study for my History quiz, but my mind wouldn’t stick to my notes. I kept peering at my phone. So I cleaned my room, played around online, all of which led to me sitting on the edge of my bed, engaged in mental warfare with my phone. My avoidance went beyond procrastination to outright dread.

  I wasn’t familiar with her work schedule now, but I knew she’d still be up at this hour. She never went to bed earlier than 2:00 A.M. and was able to work a sixteen-hour hospital shift with only four hours of rest. Maybe I’d gotten my sleep pattern from her. Go figure.

  She picked up after the third ring, and her voice sounded pleasantly surprised. “Hi, honey!”

  “Hi, Mom,” I said.

  “I’ve been trying to get ahold of you for a while, baby. How are things going?”

  I hated when people asked that because it was often a rhetorical question. I’d rarely come across anyone who didn’t use the inquiry to steer the conversation back to them. I wasn’t in the mood for pretense, so I gave her options. “Do you want the Sunday brunch answer or the truth? I can work with either one.”

  She paused for a long beat before saying, “The truth. I’m worried about you.”

  “You sure? Because it’s not pleasant and it might take longer than your lunch break will allow, and it may include some of that insipid angst that you love so much.”

  Yes, I was being a jerk and childish for bringing up something she said three years ago. And the fact that I could still remember every word, every pause and hitch in her speech proved why this entire phone call was necessary. I might appear taller, my voice deeper, my features sharper, but in truth, I was still that hurt little kid.

  “I’m sorry. I’m just going through some stuff right now, that’s all,” I said, annoyed that my eyes were already filling with tears.

  “Liam, like it or not, I’m still your mother and whatever bothers you bothers me. That hasn’t changed.” Her voice, low and soothing, threatened to break that iron hold I had on my emotions.

  I told myself that it was just saltwater, but really they were the lost years running down my cheeks and neck, silence and distance tightening my throat. It was the presence of absence. The shadow left behind held the most weight and the pressure crushed my lungs and robbed me of air. It was too much and I wanted so badly to hang up, but my hand wouldn’t loosen its grip on the phone.

  “I’m off the clock now, so you can take all the time you want,” Mom said. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

  Clips from the past three months played in my head like a movie trailer. So much had happened that she need
ed to catch up on. If nothing else, this was a sensible reason for me to stay in touch more often. It kept the updates brief.

  “Oh wow.” I sniffed and wiped my nose on my arm. “Where do I even start?”

  Her reply held a twinge of laughter. “Start where every story does. At the beginning.”

  I sat in one of the twin armchairs in front of Dr. Whittaker’s desk, struggling to process the long, multisyllable words coming out of his mouth. Why Mom thought the world of this man was beyond me. It could be the salt-and-pepper hair, the fit physique, the old-dude swagger. But this time Dad had accompanied me to my evaluation, so I was spared the hero worship.

  I wasn’t all that impressed with the good doctor. His vocabulary was the main source of my contempt. He honestly expected a sixteen-year-old to know what any of those medical terms meant, and he seemed put-off by having to dumb it down for the common folk.

  Once my prognosis was translated to modern English, I was able to join the conversation. “So what you’re saying is I may never get my memories back?” I asked.

  “There’s always a possibility, but seeing as they haven’t surfaced by now, it’s becoming more unlikely,” he said solemnly. “What I recommend now is to continue the therapy and memory exercises and see where things go in a few months.”

  “Thanks.” I was glaring hard at him, but not because of the outcome. The sunlight pouring from the vertical blinds behind him was hurting my eyes.

  Dad must’ve seen my expression and nudged my arm to make me behave. He sat straight in the chair next to me; chin high, hands in lap. Naturally, he was dressed to the nines in a tailored navy suit sharp enough to cut glass, with not one hair out of place. His tight jaw and glacial stare told me that he didn’t seem to care much for the MD, either.

  “That’s not to say that it will never happen,” Dr. Whittaker added. “Permanent amnesia is very rare and in most cases memories will come back on their own, but we’ll have to wait and see if there’s any lasting damage to the brain. The good news is that you’re still quite young and only a couple years are missing from your life. Should this blank spot remain, you’ll still have a lifetime of memories to make up for it.”

  “Yeah.” I folded my arms to my chest and sank lower in my seat. For some reason, I thought of Liam, but then tried to push him out of my head.

  Dr. Whittaker set my file aside and removed his reading glasses. Resting his elbows on the table, he leaned in and brought his hands together so they touched at the fingers. The whole gesture screamed it’s about to get real.

  “I’ve seen forty-year-olds whose entire life histories were wiped away. They have no idea who they were or when they were born or where they came from. They couldn’t recognize their spouses or their grandchildren. So yes, Ellia, I believe you’re very fortunate. Perhaps you could see this as a fresh start. It’s a chance to reinvent yourself.”

  Dad rubbed my back and the contact provided a comfort I hadn’t felt since I was a little kid. His dark eyes softened and his faint smile told me what I needed to hear without words. Everything will be okay. Life will go on either way.

  I nodded. Yesterday was gone and there was no point in reaching behind me for something I couldn’t even hold. Time moved in one direction: forward. And I needed to keep my eyes straight and do the same.

  In the parking lot, Dad took his time starting the car. He’d slid the keys into the ignition then just stopped as if something dawned on him. The longer he stared pensively at the parked cars ahead, the more it worried me. When a few minutes rolled by, I asked him what was wrong.

  Instead of answering, he reached across my seat and opened the glove compartment. His fingers sifted through papers and random junk until he found what he was looking for. My eyes bugged out at the sight of the collar dangling in his hands. The clink of tiny paw tags sounded like music from a long forgotten childhood.

  “Daddy!” I cried and held the collar in both my hands.

  “There’s nothing more terrifying than hearing your child cry out in pain,” Dad said with his eyes trained to the row of cars parked in front of us. “You have no idea what it does to a parent. It’s primal, the need to protect, and kill if necessary. Rational thought is no longer a factor.”

  I knew he had more to say and finding the right words seemed taxing, so I waited.

  “He told me to keep you awake. No matter what, don’t let you close your eyes until the doctors saw you. I don’t know why but I did it, just kept you talking the whole way to the hospital. You told me you needed to find Babette’s collar. That’s what I did. It took me twelve hours, but I found it on the running path.” He chuckled, but it lacked any trace of humor. “And to think. All I’d wanted was for you to forget Babette.” He paused. “And Liam. I see now that it only made things worse,” he said and then started the car.

  Wait. That was it? No Sorry for threatening Liam or Sorry for lying about the collar or being an overbearing tyrant? We were just gonna skip over that, huh? Why was I even surprised anymore? Dad definitely needed to work on his apologies. I should bring that up at our next family meeting. But I still smiled at the collar in my hand. I had to see this as a good sign. It gave me more hope for the future than all of my doctors combined. All was not lost, just hidden.

  When I realized that we still hadn’t left the parking lot, I asked, “What’s wrong now?”

  Dad nodded as if coming to some great decision. “You need to learn how to drive.”

  “I do,” I agreed. My second attempt at the written driver’s test scored me a perfectly good permit that wasn’t being put to use. Bike riding was fun and all, but all of my friends seemed to have outgrown that form of transportation.

  “Can I drive home?” I asked eagerly.

  “No,” he said, then took the car out of park.

  I sighed.

  “But we can practice this weekend,” he offered with a sly curl of his lips. “In the meantime, watch and learn.”

  After we got home, I went to my room, prepared to curl up with the end of Liam’s book.

  Then I heard a light tapping on my door.

  “Come in,” I said absently, thinking it was Mom with one of her power juices. But when I glanced up, I discovered that it was Stacey, holding one of Mom’s power juices.

  “Uh … your mom told me to tell you to drink this. It looks like swamp water, so good luck with that.”

  “Thanks.” I took the glass from her and set it on the nightstand.

  She remained by the door, looking unsure whether to come any farther.

  “I’m sorry for what happened at the dance, Ellia,” she said. “I shouldn’t have butted in like that. I shouldn’t have done a lot of things.”

  “I’m sorry for blowing up at you,” I replied. “And you’re right. I was using Liam. I was using him before the accident, too, in a way. As my way to rebel and—”

  “I kissed Liam,” she blurted out.

  I blinked. “Come again?”

  “After all the stuff went down at the dance, we felt bad and turned to each other for comfort, I guess. It just happened out of nowhere and I tried to avoid him afterward.”

  “What am I hearing right now?” I jumped to my feet. “Because it sounds like my best friend went behind my back and put the moves on my boyfriend!”

  “He’s not your boyfriend!” she argued. “You made that clear. Plus, you told me to go for him.”

  “I didn’t mean that. I was mad! Oh my god, Stacey, you don’t date a friend’s ex. That’s in the Bestie Ten Commandments.”

  “I’m sorry. I got caught up in the moment.”

  “Why would you do that?” I asked, still in shock.

  She shrugged, looking down. “Maybe part of me was a little jealous,” she muttered. “I wanted what you two had. No guy ever looked at me the way Liam looked at you. And the lengths he went to find out about you—he did my homework, El! Just to get an update on your progress. I mean, come on, every girl wants a hot guy standing outside in the rain, thro
wing pebbles at her window. A guy who will carry you and refuse to leave your side and sneak into your hospital room to spend time with you. You guys had a love that few people ever get to experience.”

  “Maybe,” I said softly. “But why’d you try and snatch up that love for yourself? In what universe would you think that would be okay?”

  Stacey shrugged. “Well, it was stupid to even think I could get that from Liam, because I can’t. And in all honesty, I don’t even want it from him. I just want what he feels for you. So yeah, I messed up. And I’m sorry, Ellia.”

  This would be the part of the talk show where I’d get up and throw my chair across the stage and start swinging and pulling hair until the security guards broke us up. Best believe that I was tempted to throw her skinny tail out the window, but the pain in her eyes stopped me. I figured I’d actually listen for a change. I’d done a lot of reckless and impulsive things in the past, and I wanted to try on this new concept called reason.

  “I don’t know what to say to you right now, Stacey,” I said truthfully. “Just looking at you is making me mad.”

  “But why?” she asked. “If you don’t have any feelings for Liam?”

  “Because he was my—”

  “Your what?” she cut me off. “Your boyfriend, your ex-boyfriend, your standby?”

  “I … I don’t know.”

  “Do you love him?” she asked.

  I paused. “Same answer. I mean, I want to, but I don’t know what’s real. Here I was wondering if I could trust everyone else’s intent … when in truth, I can’t trust my own.”

  “I think you did love him,” she said with a confidence I wished I could borrow.

  I shook my head. “It could’ve been an act.”

  “You told him all the time. That’s not something you pass around like a business card, El.”

  “Still, though. I need something more. If I knew for a fact that I loved him before … ”

  Stacey leaned forward to look at me steadily. “Who cares about that? What do you feel now? Sure, you lost the first two years of your relationship, but what about the next two years or even the next twenty years? You and Liam need to stop mourning over what you lost and worry about what you still have and if it’s worth saving. If not, then cut it off.”