Remember Me Always

by Renee Collins

  “Shelby?”

  “What is it about this picture…” I say, not looking up.

  The smell of smoke from our little fire tingles my nose. Like the flicker of flames, I see Auden talking to me by the bonfire. He’s upset but not angry. He’s trying not to let others around us hear our argument. An argument at a Halloween party…

  “What’s wrong, Shelby? You’re kind of freaking me out.”

  I hold up the picture for Grace. “When was this taken?”

  She shrugs, claiming she has no idea, but I don’t hear her words.

  She knows.

  In that moment, I realize three very important things. First, even Grace lies to me. They all do. Grace. Auden. Mama. It’s so clear to me now. They want to protect me, yes, but they also want me to see things the way they do.

  They all have their own versions of the truth. Their own perceptions of me and my life are colored by their own experiences, their own hopes and fears. Their opinions of my love for Auden say more about themselves than our actual relationship.

  But it goes beyond that. My second realization is more of a confirmation of a nagging impression I’ve had ever since I left Denver. There’s something more to the story of what my treatment made me forget. There is something that someone isn’t telling me. I don’t know if it’s Auden or Mama or Grace who is withholding the information. Or all three. But there is a piece missing. I can feel it in the very depths of my heart.

  And that leads me to the final realization: I am the only one who can find my own truth. This whole time, I’ve relied on others because I thought that my erased memories made me helpless. But that’s not true. My erased memories make me pure. I can piece together every opinion to discover unvarnished truth.

  The only person who can help me get my memories back is myself.

  “Aren’t you going to burn that stuff?” Grace asks, coming to sit by me. “This wasn’t going to be a reminiscing session.”

  “You’re right.” I hold out the picture over the fire, and the relief on her face is palpable. I study the picture a final time, making a mental copy of it, and then I drop it into the flames.

  Chapter 30

  With just over a week to go before opening night of Romeo and Juliet, the stage and auditorium are a flutter of activity after school. Techies test out lights. The art students paint finishing touches on the set. I expect a crowd in Mr. Lyman’s office. He always has an open-door policy for students, and as such, it’s always been a popular hangout for theater kids.

  Thankfully, as I peer my head through the door, an empty office greets me. Mr. Lyman sits at his desk, listening to some modern, avant-garde jazz music and eating a green apple as he grades papers.

  “Just the person I was hoping to see,” he says.

  “I am?”

  He smiles. “I talked with Justin Regel last night. He’s definitely coming, Shelby. To see you.”

  My heart drops. I’d forgotten all about the talent agent. I sink into the chair in front of Mr. Lyman’s desk, quietly reeling from the reminder. It’s one more thing I’m giving up to live the quiet, safe life in Orchardview.

  “Something wrong?” Mr. Lyman asks with a frown.

  “Just a little nervous,” I say, scraping for the best smile I can manage.

  “Don’t be. You’ll knock his socks off.”

  I muster another weak, barely believable smile.

  Mr. Lyman takes a bite of his apple. “So, what’s up, Shelby?”

  I’ve always seen Mr. Lyman as a mentor and even a friend. I’d like nothing more than to unload my troubles on him, but something holds me back. Instead I say, “I have a question for you. A costuming question.”

  “Okay, shoot.”

  “I’m looking for a dress that I’m pretty sure is school property. It would work for Juliet. It’s blue with gold accents. It came with a shimmery blue veil. Do you know where it is?”

  Mr. Lyman’s face slowly drains of color. He stares at me, and I know that my suspicion was right.

  “I borrowed it about a year ago,” I say, pressing further.

  His lips part, but he doesn’t speak. “You did,” he says finally. “For Halloween.”

  “Did I not bring it back?”

  He shakes his head, looking quite pale. “Shelby, that was the dress you were wearing the night of your accident. It was…damaged.”

  Even though I suspected as much, hearing Mr. Lyman say the words is intense. I sit back in the chair, feeling suddenly cold. “What happened that night, Mr. Lyman? I know you know.”

  “Shelby…”

  “And I know they erased my memory. I suspect someone told you and maybe tried to convince you to keep that a secret. Well, I know, and now I want to know the whole truth.”

  Mr. Lyman presses his hands together. “Some things belong in the past. You’ve been given a remarkable second chance. One most people don’t get. A chance to truly start fresh.”

  I lean forward. “But it’s not forgotten, Mr. Lyman. All that therapy did was hide the past from me. But it’s still there, banging on the walls, somewhere deep in my mind. The past won’t let me escape, so I might as well turn and face it head-on. And I want to. I want my memory back—all of it. I need my truth. The good and the bad.”

  Mr. Lyman considers me for a long moment, and then he sighs. “I don’t know more than anyone else.”

  I can’t tell if he’s lying. He’s an actor, after all. He taught me everything I know.

  “Please,” I choke out.

  “Listen to me, Shelby—”

  His office door opens, and I glance over my shoulder to see Auden standing in the doorway.

  It takes me a moment to process his presence. A surge of emotions clashes inside me. Surprise, confusion, anger, and unwelcome elation. His expression shows only pain. I stand and turn to face him. Mr. Lyman also gets to his feet.

  “What are you doing here?” I demand of Auden.

  “Mr. Lyman is my friend too,” he says, tense.

  I scoff. “No he’s not.”

  “Actually, I am,” Mr. Lyman says, coming between us. “You may forget, but you two used to come hang out in my office all the time. Before…”

  “Why are you here?” I demand, my throat tight. “What were you going to talk about? About us? Were you going to tell him what a horrible person I am?”

  Mr. Lyman sets a friendly hand on Auden’s arm. “Why don’t you come back another time?”

  “No,” I say, grabbing my bag. “Don’t let me keep you from your visit.”

  Auden remains silent. Mr. Lyman calls out my name, but I storm out of the office. I’m halfway down the hall before Auden comes running after me.

  “Don’t bother,” I say, not turning around. “Unless you’re going to tell me why you were in Mr. Lyman’s office.”

  “Why were you there?” he asks.

  “Maybe because I go to this school? Or because he is the director of the play I’m in that starts next week? Pick a reason.”

  “I know that’s not why. The energy was too intense when I interrupted.”

  I fold my arms tightly across my chest. “Fine. If you must know, I was asking him about the accident.”

  He stares at me. “What? Why?”

  “Because I’m sick of not knowing the truth! I’m sick of not knowing what happened to me and why. And you and Grace and Mama—all you do is tell me what you want me to believe.”

  “That’s not—”

  “There’s something more to this story, Auden. Tell me what it is right now, or you will confirm exactly what I just said.”

  I’ve struck a nerve. I can see it all over his face. “Tell me,” I demand.

  “Shelby, I…you have to give me time to explain.”

  “No. I don’t want the carefully polished version. Just tell me.”
r />   He’s breathing harder. “It’s not…that simple.”

  And there it is. That hesitation tells me everything I need to know. After everything that has happened, he still won’t be completely honest with me.

  “Forget it.” I turn so he doesn’t see the tears forming in my eyes. “I’ll find out on my own.”

  I run from him as fast as I can. He calls my name, but he’s at a disadvantage as he tries to follow me. He doesn’t know that there’s a hallway connecting to the science wing. I lose him easily.

  Driving back home, I have a good cry, but nothing feels good about sobbing alone in your car. I’m just grateful that Mama isn’t home this afternoon. First, because she won’t see me crying, which will inevitably lead to questions. But also because I will have easy access to Mama’s things.

  I can’t hesitate anymore. I have to know. Even if it brings back the panic attacks.

  Storming into my empty house, I don’t waste a minute. I head right for Mama’s room and rummage until I find the file folder she showed me when she told me about Auden. Sitting down on the couch with the folder in my lap, my heart pounds so hard I feel it in every part of my body. I close my eyes for a moment with my hands pressed on the truth.

  Breathe. Just keep breathing. You can do this.

  I open the folder.

  • • •

  The same dream haunts me. Darkness and pain. The color blue. Crying.

  The small round light moves up and down, up and down. Too high. Too close. And then, it goes out. A scream fills my ears. Only this time, as I jolt awake, the scream is ripping from my own throat.

  It takes me longer than ever to calm down. Maybe because now I know that it’s not a dream.

  It’s a memory.

  I bend over on the edge of my bed. It feels like someone is smashing my head in between two rocks. Like I’m being slowly burned from the inside out.

  Pieces of my worst memory are clawing their way out of the recesses of my mind. The dream matches up with everything I read this afternoon.

  The color blue, for example. It’s my dress. My Halloween costume.

  The accident took place on Halloween night. The perpetrator had been attending a party in the barn house a few blocks away. He maintains that he was not drinking, though the validity of this is impossible to determine, as he turned himself in after a toxicology report would have been effective.

  That light. The strange, small light moving up and down.

  The victim, Edmund Drake, age 59, had been out for an evening jog on K Road. The sky had darkened significantly, but he was wearing reflective gear as well as a headlamp.

  The scream. Is that my scream as Auden swerved too far off the road?

  The perpetrator maintains that he lost control of his vehicle in the darkness and didn’t see Mr. Drake until it was too late. He struck Mr. Drake from the side, swerved, and then crashed his vehicle into a telephone pole.

  The only part I can’t place is that dark, horrible feeling that something isn’t right. It grips me now, even as I bend over, trying to breathe.

  I’d think it was the same feeling that I had at the scene of the accident. Leaving Edmund Drake bleeding in the ditch on the side of the road. But I wasn’t awake for that.

  His passenger, sixteen-year-old Shelby Decatur, was knocked unconscious upon impact.

  So what is this feeling? I still can’t place my finger on it. Reading the details of the accident caused an undeniable shift in my mind. The facts I read crawl around in my mind, like spiders, ripping open the hidden pockets of memories. Tiny details seep out. But still, there’s something missing. Something terrible. It looms in the back of my mind like an oncoming storm.

  The dark cloud only pulls closer. Stepping out of my house in the morning, I swear I see Auden’s car round the corner. Then, as I open the doors to the school, a girl dressed in a witch costume brushes past me. I’m about convinced that I’ve gone crazy until I spot Mr. Harwood, one of the school counselors, dressed as a vampire, stapling a sign to a bulletin board. Two freshman girls walk by in matching Tinker Bell costumes, each talking on their cell phones.

  Tomorrow is Halloween. This can’t be a coincidence. The past, it seems, refuses to let me go. And I have to find out the truth. I can’t wait even one more day. I’ll have to figure it out myself, the only way left. By visiting the site of the crash.

  By the time the late bell rings, I’m at my car. My hands shake as I turn the key in the ignition. Auden was right. My memories weren’t erased by Dr. Stevens. They were simply hidden, blocked. A fragile dam created by the therapy. But the weight of those suppressed memories push against me now. The dam won’t last long.

  • • •

  The location of the accident is a remote country road, a slice of asphalt in a sea of yellowing fields. It’s peaceful yet I am anything but calm. I’m panting, gasping for air. My heartbeat shakes my entire body.

  Just ahead, I spot a white, wooden cross in the grass off the side of the road, covered with flowers and a small, weathered American flag.

  The earth seems to shift around me. It was there.

  And then, in the rearview mirror, I see Auden’s car. He’s pulling up behind me at a desperate pace. Unless this is some kind of hallucination. I honestly don’t know.

  I watch him draw closer, eyes wide, my entire body trembling. My phone starts ringing. The sound echoes in my ear. I don’t have to look to know it’s him.

  In my rearview mirror, I see Auden flash his lights for me to pull over. My breath stops. The ringing, the flashing lights, the panic—they overwhelm me. My foot slams on the brake. Auden’s brakes squeal to avoid a collision as my car jolts to a stop. I hit the steering wheel. And a scream rips from my throat.

  It all comes back. All of it. Rushing into my being like a flash flood. The dam has broken.

  Chapter 31

  Brooklyn Belnap has a Halloween party at her family’s barn every year. It’s so far out in the middle of nowhere that there’re no neighbors to complain about the noise. And I think the Orchardview parents simply agree to turn a blind eye and let the kids do whatever they want for one night.

  It was cool the first few years. Grace and I would go all out on costumes, arrive fashionably late, and stay long after the fun had dwindled. Being invited was a sign that we had arrived. This year, however, we aren’t even hanging out together. She’s off, who knows where. Probably with Mike. Why she keeps getting back together with him is beyond me.

  I’m over it. All of it. Auden and I arrived less than ten minutes ago. It’s not even dark yet, and I already want to go home. There’s nothing like an argument with your boyfriend to kill your party mood.

  Standing by the bonfire, I brush the dust from my blue Renaissance gown and grimace. Mr. Lyman will kill me if I ruin this thing. Besides, I think I have finally talked him into doing Romeo and Juliet next year, and it’s the perfect costume to play the lead. The plan was to get Auden cast as Romeo, but I’m suddenly not so sure if we’ll even be together next fall. Not if we keep arguing about California.

  Auden comes to my side and presents a red plastic cup filled with water. “Sorry. No soda. This is your only option if you don’t want booze.”

  “Thanks.” I take the cup, my gaze still on the fire.

  We’re silent for a moment, and then he sighs. “Look, can we just pretend I didn’t bring it up? There’s no reason to ruin our whole night arguing over this.”

  I sip my water. “Too late.”

  He bends his head back, looking up at the sky. We’ve had this fight before. A few times. Ever since the night I backed out.

  I had my bags packed. The car filled with gas. I wanted this so badly. But when the moment came, I couldn’t go through with it.

  At first, Auden said he understood. He apologized, even, for pushing me before I was ready. But as the days passed,
it found a way to creep back into our conversations, usually at times like tonight when I just want to enjoy myself and forget the drama and weight of Auden’s hopes and expectations.

  “I can’t believe you’d accuse me of not loving you,” I whisper, angrily. “How dare you even say it?”

  “That’s not what I said.”

  “Oh, please. It is.”

  Brooklyn skips up. “Hey guys! Say cheese!” Auden and I both force a smile while she snaps a picture. As soon as she’s out of earshot, Auden turns back to me.

  “It’s not what I meant,” he says, softly. “All I said was that I wonder what I am to you. Am I some kind of novelty? A fun, unique experience to try out for a while before settling back into the comfort of the life your mother planned for you?”

  “You know that’s not true,” I snap, a little too loudly. Two people nearby us look up and exchange glances with each other. Auden moves closer, self-conscious.

  “That’s the problem, Shelby. I don’t know that. I’ve given you my heart and soul, with the understanding that we would be together forever. But sometimes I look into the future, and all I see is my own shattered dreams.”

  “You ask too much,” I say, exasperated, my chest tightening with the crush of impending tears. “I love you, Auden. And I want to see new places. I’m just not ready right now.”

  “If you’re not ready now, you’ll never be ready.”

  I stare at him, stung by his words. “You’re completely unreasonable.”

  “Better unreasonable than afraid.”

  Our anger goes back and forth until we dig ourselves into a hole we can’t get out of without hurting each other. Soon, we’re in a full-blown fight in front of everyone. It isn’t until I lock eyes with Grace across the crowd that the humiliation becomes real.

  I storm away from the party, angry tears burning down my face. Twilight has fallen, and I nearly trip over the hem of my dress in the dirt lot. Auden follows wearily, though I imagine he’s tired of chasing after me. This thought makes me even angrier.

  “Why do you always run away from your problems?” he calls out. “Talk to me. We can get through this.”