Lost Past

by Teresa McCullough

  “My wife,” Eric said. “She died of cancer nine years ago.”

  The second picture showed a family of three. A young man, who looked like Eric, was with an ordinary-looking young woman holding a baby. “You’re responsible for that,” said Eric. “That’s one of the reasons I wanted to talk to you. It was tempting not to tell you because it doesn’t reflect well on either of us, but as a doctor, I can’t conceal this information from your past. Possibly Arthur didn’t even know it.

  “You didn’t get into medical school the way you were supposed to. You had an online undergraduate degree with almost no lab experience. My son Larry has, or perhaps I should say had, schizophrenia. He wasn’t functioning and it was getting worse. My wife was dying and Larry . . . Well, you came to me and offered me a bargain. You said you could significantly improve Larry’s life if I would support your medical school application. I didn’t even agree, but five days later, Larry was working at McDonald’s. You can’t understand what it’s like for a father to be proud of his son saying, ‘You want fries with that?’”

  “What did I do?” John asked.

  “I don’t have a clue. But Larry told me you helped him. He went to the community college and he now works with computers. He’ll never be rich, but he is functioning. He married a sweet girl and they have a baby. Larry says he owes it to you, and I believe him.”

  “You got me into medical school?”

  “One man doesn’t have the power. All I did was vote in favor of you. You said you wanted to be a psychiatrist, and Larry’s recovery told me you could be a good one, at least that’s how I justified it to myself. But another man advocated for you and lost a great deal of weight. He was never able to do so before. A third man had an autistic grandchild who is now doing so well that people are wondering if he was misdiagnosed. I never figured out what you did for a woman on the committee, but she seemed happier afterwards.”

  My knowledge predated my training, John thought. How did I learn so much and where did I learn it? I was, what, twenty-five when I started medical school? When did I have time to learn so much?

  Eric handed him off to Cara, who had somehow shed her responsibilities for the afternoon. She willingly helped him find a branch of his bank, where he withdrew five hundred dollars. Returning to the hospital, she helped him discover more about the current state of psychiatry. From his point of view, it wasn’t pretty. Certain practices made him think “witch doctor” or “dark ages.” He started formulating a way of teaching what he knew. He wanted to go to his computer to type it up because that was faster, but it occurred to him that he might be able to do it better in Vigintees. He had no idea if he typed Vigintees. He tried to imagine a keyboard in Vigintees, but couldn’t.

  He put his hands out to an imaginary keyboard and started thinking words in Vigintees, but nothing came. He mouthed the words, but his hands didn’t seem to know a connection between what he was saying and the text. He went through the alphabet and there seemed to be no place where he wanted to put his fingers. Either there was no keyboard in Vigintees or he never learned it. Alternatively, he just could not force his memory to relearn the specific skill.

  Somehow, Cara came back with him for dinner. While they were preparing to eat, he realized that he had left the pages of handwritten Vigintees on his desk. She didn’t notice the significance of his casually putting them away, but it gave him a cold feeling. Arthur’s kidnappers spoke the language, and they callously killed a planeload of people. John felt knowledge of Vigintees was unsafe and didn’t want to add Cara as a potential target.

  “Tell me about me,” he said.

  “I think you figured out everything.”

  “Hardly. I went to work, I kept up with the news, and I exercised. Judging from the food in the freezer and cabinets, I cooked simple, healthy meals. I don’t even know my medical history.”

  “I can’t help you on that, but you’ve never missed work because you were sick. I don’t remember you having a cold.”

  “Have I had a flu shot? When was I last at the dentist? What’s the matter?”

  “I forgot to get a flu shot,” Cara replied, obviously annoyed at herself. He kept the remaining conversation on psychiatry and didn’t have to lie when he sent her away, pleading fatigue. As soon as she was gone, he shredded the papers and wondered if that was enough.

  CHAPTER 6

  It was 5 a.m. and he was ready. His money was in his pockets and he had a bag with a change of clothing, along with his notes. Cara picked him up, using Eric’s car, taking him to a motel. Eric, Jun, and Pedro were not the only ones there. Eric introduced someone named Matthew Mason. Eric didn’t explain who he was, except by a mute look that John interpreted as an apology. John decided that if Mason could be convinced the material was valuable, he wouldn’t hinder the dissemination of the information.

  Jun set up a camcorder with wire feeds into a computer. When the pleasantries were over, John got up in front of the group and said, “This is how I’d like this to work. Although you are recording everything I say, I want you to take notes and later duplicate the recording. Nothing gets out of this room until we are done. I think it will take several hours, but we should finish today. When we’re done, I want everyone to go separate ways and get the information out as widely as possible. I assume you all have plans for this?”

  Mason said, “My instructions are to give the information to my boss and no one else.”

  John shrugged. “I’m not going to fight you on that, as long as no one interferes with getting the information out. First place, everyone turn off your phone. I don’t want anyone to locate us with them.” He pulled his out and did so, placing it on a table on the side of the room. Eric did so also. Everyone else followed suit, with Mason being a reluctant last.

  “Let me start with drugs,” John said. All the while he was talking, he was aiming at engaging Mason’s support. Eric caught on immediately, but Cara went from being annoyed to understanding. Whenever they took a break, Jun converted the files to DVD’s and flash drives. They had lunch from sandwiches in a cooler, supplied by Eric.

  Seven hours later, John was finished. They all picked up their phones and turned them on. Mason started to make a call, but John put his hand on his arm. He was worried that Mason’s call would ruin the carefully laid plans. “I would prefer you not call until everyone is safely away.”

  “I think you’re being paranoid,” Mason said.

  “Ten minutes won’t hurt.”

  “I can send this out immediately and there will be no need for your colleagues’ amateur spy caper.”

  “Perhaps not,” said John. “But if you’re so sure of what you’re doing, start out with a message saying that this is the only version of the information. Tell them I trust you as a government representative and only told it to you.”

  “That would be a lie.”

  “That you are a representative of the government?” When Mason’s face confirmed his status, John continued. “You can correct the lie tomorrow. Or in person as soon as you get there.” He saw that Mason was not convinced. By then, the others had left. “Give it a chance. If I’m not paranoid, it matters. If I am…” He shrugged.

  “My duty is to report immediately,” Mason said.

  “Your duty is to see that the information gets to your boss. How will delaying hurt that?” John’s voice was deliberately soft and persuasive. Mason allowed John to argue with him for eighteen minutes. John felt that was enough. When Mason finally made his call, John thought it was safe. He had to trust that Eric and the others got the information out. He didn’t trust Mason to be discrete about where the information went.

  As John started for the parking lot, Eric caught up with him, laptop in hand. “Did you delay him?”

  “Until about a minute ago. Short of using physical force, I couldn’t do more. Why did you invite him?”

  “Wilson invited him. I think your phone is tapped, and Mason was a compromise. I sent hundreds of people email. Most of th
e people were notified to download it and send it out again as soon as they got it. Four of them were waiting for it and should have it resent by now. Some of it will be posted on various web sites. Cara is bicycling to…”

  “Don’t tell me,” John interrupted. “A few days from now, when everyone has the information is soon enough.”

  “What you don’t know you can’t reveal?” Eric asked.

  “Exactly.”

  “I’ll drive you home,” said Eric.

  “I think not. I think now is the time to run.”

  “What are you running from?”

  “I don’t have a clue.” He forced his voice to be cheerful, but he was afraid.

  They decided that John should get on an Amtrak train and head for Boston. He could get off anywhere in between and try to disappear. Eric suggested he shave his head, which would alter his appearance. John had forgotten to bring a razor, and they stopped at a drug store to buy one. There was a sign at the cash register saying that they were taking cash only because the network was down. “Yes, and no one’s cell’s working,” the clerk volunteered.

  “How long has it been that way?” Eric asked as he paid.

  “Maybe five minutes.” She seemed mildly annoyed.

  Eric turned WTOP radio on when they got to the car. The Internet was down everywhere and people could only make local calls on landlines. Satellite phones worked for a while, and people found that this was true everywhere in the U.S. and in much of Europe. Shortly after that was announced, the satellite phones went down. Cable TV didn’t work either. They continued on wordlessly, listening to the wild speculation and the continued description of the chaos. The news reported air travel was largely at a standstill and people who wanted to travel were trying Amtrak, and all the trains were full.

  “I think it could be easy for you to hide now. It’s pretty chaotic at the moment,” Eric said.

  "Am I paranoid, or could this be related to what I just did?” John asked.

  “I think it is possibly related to what WE just did.” Eric pulled into a gas station. The pumps seemed to be working, so the chaos had not extended that far. “You didn’t need gas,” John said after Eric put in half of a tank.

  “But I might in a few days, and I would prefer to be prepared. Where should we go?”

  They went to the hospital and found everyone there. People assumed they came in to deal with the chaos, and John had no objections to soothing people in the increasing hysteria. Eric’s boss praised him for assembling his team of psychiatrists, complaining that other departments didn’t see the need. Many people decided to stay at home and hover by the radio.

  ***

  Tom dropped Linda and her suitcase off at Mary Chen’s apartment before he drove back to medical school. Although Linda could go back to the apartment she shared with two women at school, she was finished for the semester. She planned to pick up more clothes and spend a few days with a friend from high school. Tom offered to wait around to drive her there, but Linda felt she should spend some time with Mary. She used her key to enter. With her father apparently alive, it was still nominally her second home, but she apologized to Mary for intruding.

  “That’s all right,” Mary said. “My mother and brother left.” It didn’t take much acuity to realize that Mary was unhappy with something related to that.

  “How are you holding up?” Linda asked.

  “They want me to clear out his things!” Mary said angrily. “And now it looks like he may not be dead. I was almost ready to go along with them, believing him dead. He’s not dead. He can’t be dead.”

  Mary started to cry and Linda put her arms around her. While Mary talked about how wonderful Arthur was Linda saw a side to her father she never saw before. He was kind, he was interested in Mary’s work, he respected her, he understood her, he understood her research, he didn’t care she couldn’t have children, he respected her Chinese culture, he liked her food, he took care of her when she was sick, he was even good in bed.

  The last item was somewhat of a shock to Linda, but she realized that Mary hardly was aware of her audience and continued talking for some time about how good their marriage was. Mary then started griping about her own family. They wanted her to marry someone Chinese, they thought she should hide her intelligence, they liked Arthur’s prestige, but they didn’t like Arthur, and so on. They wanted to know how much money he left her, and could she help put her brother’s children through college?

  “Why did you invite them?” Linda asked.

  “I didn’t. They invited themselves. I let them come because I thought it would help.”

  Linda realized she couldn’t leave. As soon as Linda persuaded Mary to lie down, a reporter called. Mary hung up on him and turned off her cell. Linda turned off hers, not wanting to bother Mary, who fell asleep very quickly. Linda saw a bottle of pills next to her bed, with today’s date on it. A quick check on the Internet told her they were tranquilizers and that the dosage was the standard one. Was the doctor aware of how tiny Mary was?

  Linda watched the news and realized she was hungry. The refrigerator was full of casseroles dropped off by a well-meaning community. She picked a hamburger and scalloped potato dish that she knew Mary wouldn’t like. It was bland and fattening, which suited Linda’s mood. She was annoyed when cable TV went out, but not concerned. She changed the sheets on the two beds used by Mary’s family, washed them, and remade the beds. She checked her cell for messages, but couldn’t get a signal.

  In boredom, she went to her father’s study. The file cabinet contained her father’s records, and a memory triggered her curiosity about what she might learn from his old pocket calendars. Although it took her several tries to find the right years, it wasn’t long before she found what she was looking for. For over two years, most Fridays through Mondays were marked off with the label V. They started when Linda was seven.

  “What are you doing?” Mary asked her angrily.

  Linda hadn’t noticed the door open. “Look at these,” she said, ignoring Mary’s tone.

  Mary’s curiosity overcame her criticism and she looked. “That’s strange. Almost no meetings for four days every week. A wedding once. There should be conferences. He always goes to conferences.”

  There were no conferences for a period of almost three years.

  Mary’s research was normally limited to science, but she grasped the idea of looking in other sources. “Let’s look at your mother’s books. Arthur kept them.”

  Her mother’s books were not appointment books, but ledgers. Linda remembered her keeping a calendar on the refrigerator where pages were discarded when the dates passed. Mary pulled out the ledgers. Natalie kept track of every expense: doctor appointments, haircuts, groceries, and gas. Groceries were divided into food, paper, soap, and household items. Even clothing was divided as to whom it was for. She clearly didn’t believe in calling an expense “miscellaneous.”

  Natalie belonged to a book club that met twice a month on a Thursday evening, and hired a babysitter, with the cost meticulously noted. Arthur taught two classes every semester, which met on Tuesdays and Thursdays, leaving Thursday evening through Tuesday mornings free to do V, whatever V was.

  “Is there anything scheduled during V?” Mary asked.

  “I don’t think so.” Linda went back to the calendars and found one entry during the V time. “Here’s something. It says ‘citizen ceremony.’”

  “What’s that? Arthur was born in Maryland and has lived here all his life. The ceremony couldn’t have been for him.”

  Linda looked through her mother’s books again, but found nothing new.

  “Is it significant? Should we tell someone?”

  Linda knew Mary meant telling proper authorities, but replied, “John. I’d call, but my cell phone isn’t working.” They tried Mary’s, but it didn’t work either, and she had no landline.

  Linda’s desire to talk to John was overcome by her sense of responsibility. She insisted Mary eat before they
left, and was amused to note how little food it took to fill up someone who was a size two. Mary always ate lightly, but Linda previously believed it was willpower rather than inclination.

  “Can you drive? I’m a bit shaky. Did I say anything? I wasn’t too clear on what I said before I fell asleep. I’m sorry if I—”

  “You told me how much you love Dad,” Linda interrupted, not wanting to sort through all the things Mary said.

  Mary briefly colored, remembering. “You love him,” Linda repeated. “So do I. Let me get my purse and we’ll see if we can help him.”

  Linda took Mary to John’s apartment. A couple of minutes after knocking, Mary said unnecessarily, “He’s not here.” Linda knew that because she couldn’t sense him. She knew he was fairly near, but not here.

  “You haven’t been here before?” Linda made it a question out of politeness, but Mary’s lack of knowledge of the location of the apartment told her the answer.

  “No. Why would I?”

  Linda remembered John’s deliberate silences, said nothing and remained by John’s door to make it all the more uncomfortable. It took almost a minute before Mary continued.

  “When I moved in with Arthur, I had misgivings about being a stepmother, but I was in love, really in love for the first time in my life. My first husband was,” she paused as if looking for a word, “suitable, but he divorced me when we found I couldn’t have children. Although that was a bitter disappointment to my mother, I found I was happier without children. I could do my research and didn’t have to hide my intelligence. Arthur claimed the two of you were no trouble, but Natalie did everything. You needed your first bra, and somehow I was expected to help you. You resented me and I didn’t want to do it, but Arthur was at his computer doing research, which I knew was more important than anything I would ever do.”