Remember Me Always

by Renee Collins

  My throat feels tight. “What movie was it?”

  “You know, I can’t even remember.” His smile fades. “I only remember you. It was near the end of the movie, and you were crying. I remember your profile in the shadows, the way your hair rested against your shoulders. I remember the way the light from the screen made the tears on your cheek glisten.”

  He lifts his hand and traces his finger down my cheek. I forget to breathe. His hand curls away from my skin, but he remains close, barely a breath away from me.

  “I sat by you and asked if you needed a tissue. You looked me up and down and said you actually needed a camera because hipster sightings were rare in these parts.”

  I can’t help but laugh. “Well, that does sound like me.”

  “We talked about the scene, the excellent cinematography and emotionally manipulative music.”

  I smile a little. “Kind of like this?” I motion to the screen.

  “Exactly like this.” He brushes my hair from my face, allowing his hand to skim my shoulder. He looks back at me, his eyes begging me to remember.

  I want to remember. Auden’s words have painted the moment, almost like a scene in a film. I can see it. I want it to be my memory. But I know it’s not.

  He pulls back. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t touch you. I’m a stranger.”

  I look down into my lap, trying to muster some semblance of composure. We’re both quiet. Then Auden leans his head back against the wall and exhales, frustrated.

  “It’s not right. No one should have the power to take away your own thoughts and memories.”

  I fold my arms around myself and think of the neural restructuring capsule, of Dr. Stevens, Aunt Winonna. Of Mama, sitting with her magazine as they place the electrode patches on my head and stick the anesthesia needle into my arm. Is my own mother really capable of such a thing? I can’t say with complete confidence that she isn’t.

  Is that why she always avoids discussing my “therapy” treatments? Is that why she rushed me back for another session when I suggested I didn’t feel right? The thoughts crowd my mind, and I press the heels of my hands to my forehead.

  Auden turns to me again. “Shelby, listen to me. You don’t have to try and remember anything right now. You probably can’t, even if you wanted to. All I’m asking is that you entertain the notion that I might be telling you the truth. And give me the chance to prove it to you.”

  “How could you possibly prove it?”

  “I’ll tell you everything about us. If I have to, I’ll re-create every date we ever went on, every moment we shared. I’ll give you back every single memory they took from you.”

  If I’m honest, what little I know about Auden makes me want to know more. And of course, he’s good-looking. Not in the conventional, Abercrombie model way. But in the dark, brooding, Heathcliff from Wuthering Heights way. A way that happens to be exactly my taste. I can see pretreatment me having a huge crush on this guy.

  What do I have to lose by giving him a chance to prove it? If he’s lying, it will come out sooner or later. You can’t force memories that aren’t really there.

  But if he’s right…it would seem I have a lot to gain.

  “I’m willing to give you a chance,” I say.

  His entire presence brightens. “You are?”

  “I’m not calling myself your girlfriend or anything like that. But I’m willing to explore the possibility there was an us. Because—and only because—something doesn’t feel right, and no one is giving me any answers except you.”

  “I’ll tell you everything,” he says earnestly, but the moment he says it, a shadow crosses his face. His smile falters. Quick as it changed, he’s bright again. “I’ll do whatever you ask me to do.”

  “All I want is the truth,” I say, firmly.

  Auden nods. “And I’ll help you find it again.”

  Chapter 9

  The sharp ping of my alarm jars me from a heavy and dreamless sleep. I open my eyes slowly and stare at my cell phone. The numbers on the screen don’t make sense. The room around me seems unfamiliar in the pale dawn light. For a single moment, I remember nothing.

  And then it all comes rushing back to me. Auden. The audition. The three pictures of us. The movie theater.

  If my memories of him had been erased, there are new ones now. And they strike me with an inexplicable force. I roll to my side, hugging my pillow to my chest. I can’t decide if I’m terrified or excited to go back to school today. The idea of playing sick flits in my brain. It wouldn’t be hard to convince Mama. Not that she cared much if I went to school anyway. Honestly, I always had the feeling that she’d rather I not do too well academically. It doesn’t fit her image of who I should be and how I should end up.

  Just as I’m starting to relax back into sleep, I remember that the cast list for Romeo and Juliet will be posted today. I exhale deeply. I hate to admit it, but that’s reason enough to brave whatever strangeness awaits me at school.

  Sitting up wearily, I reach for yesterday’s jeans, which are in a clump on the floor. I hesitate. Instead, I wind up in the bathroom, cranking on the shower. I can lie to other people but not to myself. Standing there under the warm water, soaped up in pomegranate body wash, shaving my legs, I know exactly what I’m up to.

  I stroll into the dimly lit kitchen, praying that Mama won’t notice the extra effort. She’s at the table, barely awake, nursing a steaming cup of coffee. But Stepdad Part Two looks up and smiles.

  “Well, don’t you look pretty today, Shelby. What a nice dress.”

  Mama’s gaze flicks up and fixes on my wine-colored, peasant blouse dress. I can see the analysis starting behind her icy blue eyes. I rarely wear dresses. Stupid. I should have stuck with the usual. Now Mama is going to suspect something.

  But her attention goes back to her coffee mug, and she is quiet.

  “Thanks, Blake,” I say, grabbing a banana. “I’d better go. Bye.”

  I rush out the door, hopefully before Mama can decide that something is amiss. It’s really not for him, I tell myself. I felt like wearing this dress.

  It’s a nice dress. Pretty. Feminine. Kind of Juliet-ish… As I finger the soft fabric between my fingers, an image flashes in my mind. Me in an elaborate Italian gown. Auden wearing a doublet, climbing the vines that drape a marble balcony.

  My stomach accordions, and I tell myself to shut up already.

  When I pull into the parking lot, I’m on high alert. My eyes scan the mob of passing faces. My heart beats faster than normal. I’ve never been more annoyed with myself, but I can’t help it. What will happen when I see him again?

  But I don’t see Auden at all. History, math, and computer science pass without so much as a glimpse of him. Walking through the lunchroom offers nothing but the same old crowd. Going out into the commons area, I flop beside Grace on our normal bench, lunch tray in my lap.

  She contemplates a crinkle fry, her brow furrowed. “I think I’m going to fail calculus.”

  I scan the commons. No dark, intense eyes. No Auden. “Turner won’t fail you. Everybody passes his class.”

  “I think I might set a new record. The first student to get an F in Turner’s calculus.”

  “Maybe you’ve got too many distractions. Large, Brad Corbin–sized distractions.”

  She laughs and then sets down her food with a sigh. “I think he’s the one, Shelby.”

  I blink. “The one?”

  “The one that’s going to make me forget Mike for good.”

  “In that case, I wholeheartedly approve of the young man. You have my blessing to proceed with initiating a relationship.”

  “Oh thanks.” She rolls her eyes, though she’s smiling. Then she nudges me with her shoulders. “Speaking of the one, why don’t you tell me what’s going on?”

  Tension zips up my spine, making me straighte
n. “What? What do you mean?”

  Grace’s blue eyes twinkle. “You and Cam seem to be awfully chummy again.”

  I laugh and relax a little. I shake my head. “No. Give me some credit, Grace. I’m not that desperate.”

  “You two are going to get married,” she singsongs, taking a sip of her Dr Pepper. “Just watch. You’re going to have two kids: Cam Jr. and Shelby Jr. And the two of you’ll team teach Drama at Orchardview.”

  I force a laugh, but my stomach goes unexpectedly cold at the picture she paints. It’s the life everyone wants for me. The life Mama wants for me. It sounds safe and comfortable, and I’m pretty sure I’d be happy in that life. Wouldn’t I…?

  I stare down at the burger on my tray. That familiar, dreaded itch tingles in my mind. It’s as if everything is slightly wrong. Just a little…off.

  Phantom limb. It’s normal. I’m normal…

  I carry the sensation with me the rest of the day. The only thing keeping me from going home early is the knowledge that Mr. Lyman will post the cast list for Romeo and Juliet immediately after school. The hours pass as slowly as drying concrete, but I push myself to make it through.

  Walking through the halls at the end of the day, heading for the drama room, my spirit brightens. A rush of excitement swirls in me. For a few moments, I forget about everything except the play.

  People rush past, eager to get home or at least get the heck out of the school, but a crowd has gathered around Mr. Lyman’s door. The white sheet posted on it glows like a beacon through the blur of faces. It draws me forward. I have to stop myself from running.

  As I approach, some of the freshmen girls gazing at the list turn and stare at me. One of them gives me a wistful smile. Holding my breath, I look at the list. The names on the paper blur for a second, then come into focus.

  Juliet: Shelby Decatur

  My heart jumps into my throat. And then:

  Romeo: Cam Haler

  I blink hard. But reading it three more times yields the same result. People crowd around congratulating me.

  I smile. Thank them. Tell them how awesome they are going to be in their parts. Tell them how nervous I am to play such a huge role. All of the responses I’d planned in my head. As they trickle away, however, I turn back to the list and read it again.

  I’m happy, of course. Thrilled. Playing Juliet has been a long-held dream. But I’m confused. Cam as Romeo? Not Auden? Is Mr. Lyman crazy?

  Not that I want Auden to play Romeo. That would be too much…too much something. I scan the list for his name. Surely Mr. Lyman cast him as one of the other major roles. Tybalt, maybe. Or Mercutio?

  But his name is completely absent from the page. He’s not even an extra. I can’t understand it. He’s clearly a talented actor. To not get any part at all? Am I the only one who saw how great he was?

  I blink. He was at the audition, right? That all happened. There’s no way a hallucination could go on that long…

  I step back, glancing around me in mild panic. Is that why I didn’t see him anywhere at school today?

  Two arms hook around my waist from behind. My shriek is canceled out by Cam’s exultant cheer. He lifts me up in the air.

  “We are going to rock, Shelbs!”

  I pull out of his grip and spin around to face him. “Stop doing that!” I say, more fiercely than I intended.

  Cam holds out his hands. “I’m just excited! Aren’t you? I mean, come on, Seashell. This is it! This is our break!”

  It really is. It’s the moment he and I had been dreaming of since we were freshmen: we are starring in the fall play. And not just any fall play—the most iconic of all Shakespeare’s plays: Romeo and Juliet. This is my big chance to show what I can really do. Nothing should take away the significance of this moment. I force any thought of Auden from my head and smile.

  “Of course, I’m excited. Are you kidding me?”

  Cam crows, and we hug. Then he takes my hand and plants a firm kiss on it.

  “It’s going to be epic. They will be talking about our performance in the halls of Orchardview High for generations to come.”

  He’s being dramatic, but it strikes me as sad that, even when he’s going for hyperbole, the best fame he can conjure stays contained to the narrow, pastoral confines of our small town.

  “We’ll be great. Especially now that your voice has changed,” I tease.

  There was an incident freshman year, involving a Shakespearean monologue, a school assembly, and Cam’s voice cracking, not once, but four times.

  “Yay puberty!” Cam says, grinning. “Come on. Let’s go talk to Lyman.”

  “Maybe tomorrow,” I say. “I have to get home.”

  “What?”

  “Huge paper to write.”

  I’m not sure if Cam can tell I’m lying or not, but he seems too happy to care. I give him one last congratulatory hug and go. As I weave through the nearly empty halls toward the parking lot, I struggle to get a grip on my emotions.

  I should be happy.

  I am happy.

  I should be happier.

  With a frustrated laugh, I reach my car. As I click my seat belt across my lap, my phone buzzes in my pocket. Distracted, I barely glance at the number, but then I freeze. It’s a text from an unknown number.

  I’m not going to play Romeo. There’s a reason for this.

  Crazy how one stupid little text can have the same effect as if I’d stuck my finger in an electric socket. I bite my lip.

  Are we still playing Twenty Questions? Or are you going to tell me why?

  I watch my phone as the three dots scroll showing he’s responding. I breathe out slowly. Get a grip, Shelby. I’m not going to get wrapped up in whatever game he’s trying to play.

  His answer comes. If I told you through text, I wouldn’t have an excuse to meet up with you in person. Can’t blame me for trying.

  I bite back a smile. I don’t like games.

  You’re right. I’m sorry. How’s this: I’d love to see you this afternoon. Unless you’re too busy?

  I do a quick scan of the parking lot, which is mostly empty, and then look back down at my phone. My finger taps the screen, but I don’t write a response. There’s still a part of me that is nervous to meet him. I have this nagging feeling that I’m walking into a situation I shouldn’t, that I’m stirring up something best left alone.

  And yet, for the first time all day, I’m tired of telling myself how I should feel. For the first time today, I let myself acknowledge what I’ve been avoiding all day.

  I want to see Auden. I want to know more about him. Even if I don’t know if I believe him, I still want to hear what he has to say about us. I lift my phone and type.

  Where do you want to meet?

  Chapter 10

  I half expected Auden to arrange to meet in some shadowy street alley, but he has me come to a coffee shop instead. Brewster’s. It’s not the one I usually go to. This one’s on the edge of town, near the truck stop.

  Auden waits for me at a corner table, his back to the door, bent over. As I move closer, I can see that he’s concentrating on a notebook. He’s writing furiously. But then he senses me and sits up with a jolt. His face brightens.

  “You came.”

  “You didn’t think I would?” I sit down across from him. My eyes fall to his notebook, but he smoothly closes it and slides it into his messenger bag on the ground by his chair.

  “Yesterday, you thought I was trying to murder you,” he says, smiling. “Now you’re meeting me for coffee. I’d say we’re making real progress.”

  At that moment, the waitress comes to take my order. But before she can speak, Auden points at me. “She likes your dark chocolate hot cocoa with one stick of cinnamon and extra whipped cream.”

  The waitress turns me to confirm. Startled, I nod before turning back
to him. He has a satisfied little smile on his face. But I’m not going to be won that easily. So he knew my favorite drink? Anyone could have asked Grace and gotten the same answer.

  “Nice party trick,” I say, folding my arms.

  Auden laughs a little. “Wow. You’re a pretty tough audience, you know that?”

  “I told you. I don’t like games.”

  “I’m not playing games.” His expression goes serious. “I’d never want you to think that.”

  His sincerity disarms me, so I change the subject. “So, why weren’t you in school today? You don’t look sick to me.”

  He slides his paper cup in a little half circle on the table. “That’s because I’m not sick. Shelby…I don’t go to Orchardview. I’m still taking online classes.”

  “Oh. But you said…” I shake my head. “I guess I was confused with you auditioning for the play and everything.”

  “I know. I should have been more up front with you. I’m sorry.” He sighs. “Things are very complicated right now. I’m not sure I can fully explain.”

  “Try.”

  A smile flickers on his face, but then fades as he fixes his gaze on me. It’s that same, intense look. Searching. Reaching.

  “I wanted to be Romeo for you. I wanted it more than I can express. And Mr. Lyman let me audition, and then he offered me the part.”

  This information electrifies me. “He did? What happened?”

  “I turned it down.”

  “Why?”

  “For the same reason I can’t enroll at Orchardview.”

  He’s being cryptic again. “And what reason is that?” I ask in frustration.

  Auden starts to reply, but hesitates as the waitress approaches.

  She sets my drink in front of me. The warm smell of cinnamon and chocolate tingles my nose. I can’t resist taking a sip, even though it’s piping hot. The flavor is even better than I remember. When was the last time I had one of these?

  “Can I get you two anything else?” the waitress asks.

  I smile up at her, wiping the whipped cream from my lip. “This is perfect. Thanks.”