Infinity's Daughter

by Laszlo, Jeremy

  I couldn’t believe how massively sprawling Detroit was. I had heard about it as a child, but did not spend much time there for any particular reason growing up, and didn’t realize the intense impact it would have. But at that time, as we all headed in together, Detroit was in its heyday. It truly was the Motor City, and everything about it was electrical. The energy was overwhelming, and we all felt it. It was different in a way from New York that was hard to explain. The life of it was almost physical, and you could feel it pulsing throughout your body.

  In the interim of finding a suitable home to fit us all in, we settled in a little duplex in Detroit itself, outside of downtown, but still in what felt like the heart of the city. Connor was thrilled. He and Todd went to see the Detroit Tigers play at the stadium, and followed the inception of some of the great musicians of our time who had gotten their start in Detroit, including Duke Ellington and Ella Fitzgerald, in the district that Connor informed me was known as Paradise Valley. The orchestra was world-renowned, this I had heard of even out in New York City, and the orchestra hall was known as the Paradise Theatre. It was such an incredible and exciting place. I thought it would have been an unimaginable experience to grow up in the city at an age such as Connor’s, being a young person amidst all of that energy and growth, getting a chance to be a part of it and find yourself inside of it.

  Susan was the only one who was nervous about the move once it happened, for reasons of finding a position for herself. She had an interview at the Detroit Institute of Art, which sounded very promising, and had an amazing reputation of its own. Coming from the Met, I presumed that she would be offered the position in a heartbeat. I went with her one afternoon to visit, and while she met with the gallery staff and archivists, I walked through the gorgeous halls filled with encased and preserved artwork. The Met was larger, with grandiose ceilings, but the DIA had an impressive array and collection of its own. The more I saw, the happier I was, and the more certain I felt that the decision to move to the mitten, my original home state, had been a wonderful choice. Susan was offered the position with the DIA and took it, happily. She loved the staff and was herself impressed by their offerings. She took up a position with the restoration archivists, and settled into the depths of the institute, just as she had swum through the belly of the Met for so many years.

  I must say it was sort of peculiar being back in Michigan. I felt that I was so close to my family I could almost touch them. Never having spent much time in Detroit as a child, I was surprised how commonly I felt waves of déjà vu, as if I had spent all of the time in the world there. I assumed it was jogging my memory from my childhood, and of my high school courses, learning about the boom of the city, and its role as an international art and cultural hub, as well as the metropolitan automobile center of America. Nevertheless, I had a nagging feeling that I was supposed to be there, or that part of my family was there, in the area just as I was. I couldn’t place it, and couldn’t remember much of what my parents had told me about our family’s roots, if they had told me anything. Age has stolen much of what I used to know.

  Perhaps they were there, my grandparents, in urban Detroit, walking the streets along with me. Stranger yet, perhaps my father was there. I wondered if I would have recognized him as a young man, and got chills running down my spine. I knew that he had grown up in Michigan, but was certain that it had been in the outskirts of Lansing, where I had grown up. My mind was strained even then, though, and I felt tired from searching the archives of my mind. But that didn’t keep me from searching, scanning the streets for a familiar face, searching for a family and a person that would have no idea who I was, nor recognize me. Even if I had seen him, or seen any of them, I knew that I wouldn’t be able to approach them. I was coming from the future now, and the past, with knowledge about my father’s future that he would have no idea about in his youth. And, from what he told me, the unexpected excursions didn’t begin until he was an adult. He would have no reference for what I was talking about, and would perceive me as nothing more than a crazy old woman. I sighed, pained by the memories of my past. At least I had my family. And our own Connor had a striking resemblance to my father. I had my father’s eyes, and had passed them onto Susan, who had in turn passed them onto my only grandchild. I looked at him often, thinking about years lost, but grateful for the support I now had, and the people in my life.

  Not even a year after moving to the city of Detroit, Todd was offered a transfer to none other than the city of Lansing, not far at all from where I grew up. The position paid more than his detective position in Detroit, and the cost of living was better, too. Since we had not found a house yet, it seemed to be a blessing in disguise, with perfect timing. We moved into a small three-bedroom home on the east side of Lansing, not far from Michigan State University. Susan hoped Connor could attend college there, and was offered a position as adjunct faculty in the art program. And as much as I had enjoyed Detroit, I was elated to go back to be so close to my roots. I wondered what I would find there, see or feel, that I could reach out to and touch my future self, and my family. But to my dismay, I began to feel confused more often, blurring the lines again between dreams and reality, and between past, present and future.

  When we moved in, I was plagued with dreams of my lost childhood, of Holt, and of my family. I saw Becky, reaching out to me, and asking where I was, why I had left her. I saw my mother standing forlorn and alone in the driveway, abandoned and in unending solitude. I would awake in the night crying, my body torn between the different realms, unsure of what was real and what was not. At first it scared Susan, and she began sleeping on a little sleeper bed in the same room with me, trying to comfort and subdue the terrors. They subsided with her there, but quickly returned once she stepped back into her own space. I began to grow quiet, and hid after awaking in the night, often staying up late myself, to calm my nerves, gazing out the window onto the young landscape of Lansing, trying, more often than not, to remember where or who I was.

  1960

  Time, it seems, has finally caught up to me. Having begun writing this a few years back, I wasn’t sure when it would come full circle, but now it has. Having begun this endeavor to preserve my memories before they were all lost to time and my aging brain, I am now beginning to realize that I am a liability to my family and myself.

  Sometimes lately, when I have been reading the newspaper, I catch myself going around and around, not knowing that I have been reading the same paragraph over and over. And honestly, I cannot recall what I was thinking about during those lost minutes. I certainly wasn’t thinking about the news I was reading. It’s as if my mind catches a breeze, and gets pulled into the current, drifting away but not knowing where it’s going, and with no general direction whatsoever. I am helpless to resist, and get swept up in the current, unaware of anything that may or may not be happening, and unable to focus. It is in the waves that all of my thoughts get swept up, swirling into the water, disappearing beneath me along with all of my secrets. Time pulls at me.

  And it’s not just that. Sometimes, when someone asks me to do something, I forget. It sounds harmless, but it could be important things that I am supposed to assist with around the home. Recently, for instance, I accidentally locked Connor out of the house. I am still ashamed of it, and haven’t talked with Susan about it since it happened.

  Connor was at baseball practice, and was going to be getting home later in the evening. Todd and Susan had gone out for the evening, and Susan requested that I leave the house unlocked if I was going to go to sleep so that Connor could get in. Connor ended up spending the duration of the evening until Susan got home at his friend’s house. He was extremely forgiving, and believed that I genuinely forgot—which I did—but things like this just shouldn’t happen in the first place. And the fact that I am letting them, or my mind is letting them without my consent, is disturbing.

  Susan and I have coffee every Tuesday afternoon. She does not have classes on Tuesday evenings, and we enj
oy spending the time together. Just yesterday we went out to our favorite little restaurant in downtown Lansing, and had our usual coffee and cake or pie. Some form of dessert is required.

  I am still shocked to watch Susan age. She looks entirely beautiful, and truly has weathered the years well. Thankfully, she didn’t take up smoking. One of the other things I had warned her at a young age were the dangers, thanks to my knowledge of the future, and she had abstained, maintaining her youthful appearance and escaping wrinkles at a young age. She had kept her figure, too, remaining active with her career and home life, playing in the yard with Todd and Sam. She had always been a bit of a tomboy growing up—challenging the norms of the day and wanting to be involved in everything she could, which I encouraged, and it had paid off. Yesterday, she was wearing a lovely light blue, pastel skirt with a little floral blouse that complemented her eyes, and flattered her figure. I try to keep up with the fashion of the day, but it is quite challenging. I realize that my attire may be outdated sometimes, but I know Susan doesn’t mind much. I wore a little pink cardigan and hoped she would smile, seeing me sport the bright hue.

  Susan was stirring her coffee and gazing out the window of the small restaurant. We always sat in the booth so you could see the people walking by, right next to the window. She was talking about the plans for Connor to apply to Michigan State University, being so close and all, and how they have a fantastic school of agriculture, but he isn’t interested in that. He might pursue engineering.

  I heard everything she was saying, my mind was very clear yesterday, but all the while I couldn’t help but feel my concern and wounded pride weighing down on my shoulders, and teasing in my ear, reminding me of my failures and my struggle to stay cognizant. I reached out and placed my hand on top of hers.

  “Susan,” I said slowly, “it’s okay with me if I live somewhere else now.” I looked in her eyes when I spoke the words, making sure she knew that I was absolutely certain, and was not confused, and had not made a rash decision.

  Susan blinked. When she did, I could see the tiny crow’s feet weaving their way around her eyes, wrapping themselves into her cheeks. When your children grow old; that is something you will never forget. It makes you think about all of the years, wondering what you were doing the entire time. It makes you reflect on everything. If you can still recall the memories.

  Her face was very distressed momentarily, and her eyes began to water and she sniffled, wiping them with her napkin.

  “Mom,” she said gently, “I don’t want you to live anywhere else. You know you’re always welcome with us, no matter what.”

  I nodded my head, standing my ground. “I know, Susan, and I cannot thank you enough for all of your kindness throughout your entire life, and especially in the last years after Sam passed. I would have been lost without you.” My mind started to drift then, thinking of Sam. I caught myself, and with all of my might pulled myself back against the current of my mind, focusing on Susan. “However, I know that my mind is not what it used to be. I’m forgetting things; you know it, I know it, and Connor and Todd know it. I’m humiliated, to tell you the truth. I don’t want to feel like this, and I don’t want you to see me like this. And most importantly, I don’t want to put any of you at risk because of my forgetfulness.” I looked away then, down at my napkin and then out the window. Saying it suddenly made it real. I couldn’t run from myself anymore, I couldn’t run from my fading mind. Everything had come to a sudden and terrible crossroads, and I could no longer ignore it.

  “Mom,” she said, “You really want this? Are you sure?”

  I nodded my head, and then shook it, holding my coffee and fighting off tears of my own. “Do you think I want it? Do you think I want to feel this way?” I blinked them back, one slipping past my eyelashes and rolling down my cheeks, caught in my own wrinkles running down my face. “No one wants to feel like this, no one wants to turn themselves over and admit failure. But I do not want, more than anything, to endanger you or your family because of my inadequacy.”

  Susan shook her head. “You have never been, and you will never be inadequate. I want you to have the support you need, and I want you to be in the environment that you are most comfortable with. Stay with us, Mom. You’re not doing anything wrong, and we love you. I love you.” Susan’s face was reddening as she sniffled again, and clenched my hand tighter.

  “My darling,” I said, “this is something I need to do. I need you to do it for me. Next week we should begin looking at places. I’m sure there are some nice ones in the area. You just have to promise to come and visit me.”

  Susan smiled, then laughed while she choked back tears, her face twisting back, her eyes softly glassy with tears. “Mom,” she said, her voice breaking, “I love you so much.”

  I smiled, squeezing her hand, knowing that everything would be all right, and that this was what must happen. “I love you, Susan, I love you so much that I can’t even express it.”

  And so that was that. She had conceded and had told Todd as well as Connor. They both came and consoled me, sincere in their sorrow and their sentiment. I was surprised at Connor, for despite my horrible deed, unintentional or not, of locking him out of his own home, he still expressed sincere regret for my leaving. They all loved me. I have always felt so loved by my family, but this show of unconditional support in such a challenging time was something that I needed, and didn’t know how much I needed it until it happened. I will love them until my dying day, they all have become my… everything.

  The next week Susan and I had planned to go scouting for a new home for me. I was nervous, knowing then that it was actually happening. It’s so surprising how those feelings creep up on you unexpectedly. I hoped that we’d find a nice place, and felt that we would. I am just not sure what to look for.

  The other peculiar, and incredibly frustrating thing that had begun to happen since the decision of my moving was that my mind had begun to become incredibly cloudy. I am not sure if this was out of fear, or perhaps as a defense mechanism. Perhaps my mind was not in fact ready for such a big change, such an act of finality, and is drifting in order to cope. Or, perhaps I was just getting worse. Suddenly. And very unexpectedly. Even then I knew that if this was the case, I would continue to progress into oblivion, and that it was very good that I decided to move myself when I did I did not want to burden Susan and the family any longer or any worse.

  I often feel like I’m back in the waves, but more consistently. And the fog is there too, drifting in and out and clouding my thoughts. When the waves sweep me out, the fog rolls in, and I am overwhelmed, and surrounded by the stagnation of my mind. When this happens, I’m not sure where I go. But with every passing day, I have more trouble telling what is what, and who is who. Everything gets jumbled. It’s very upsetting.

  Today I saw Sam. He was standing in the living room, looking for the newspaper. Everyone was at work, and I was home by myself. I couldn’t believe it, it felt like he had been gone almost an entire week. He was wearing his suit, and his badge, as if he had just returned home from work. I called out to him, asking him where he had been, and why he had been gone for so long. I missed him, and he hadn’t done the grocery shopping. I hadn’t wanted to go by myself, so he said he would go with me and then he never came back to help me with it.

  He strolled across the room to see me, holding out his arms. I reached out for him, my hands shaking and my heart racing—and then I woke up. I was lying on the couch, asleep, my mind drifting in and out and pulling me into the past. I sat up, tears streaming down my face, crying out his name. It took me a few minutes to realize that it was a dream, and that Sam is still gone, but he is not coming back. He could not travel through time and show up on the other end like my father could. Sam is never coming back, but my mind was trying to resurrect him.

  After that, I went and sat in my room, staring out the window, and tried to make sense of things, tried to calm my mind. If I don’t have some grip on reality, I’m not sure wha
t I’ll do. I have to hold on so I don’t slip away completely. But after sitting on the bed for some time, I realized that I am comfortable with the fade. I started crying again, wishing that I could see Sam, and how fantastic it was that he had been there, pining for me and supporting me like he had for so many years. I want him back, and if that means I lose a part of myself in the process, it might be worth the sacrifice.

  I’m not sure what day it is again. It’s been a few days since I last wrote, after I saw Sam in the living room. I’m writing today because it has happened. This morning I woke up somewhere strange, and panicked. I searched the little white room with green carpet for a phone and eventually found one, calling Susan. She answered, and I began sobbing. She told me that I was at the new home, where I had asked to be, but she would come and get me if I didn’t like it, she would love to have me back.

  I’m mortified. I can’t believe that happened. I can’t believe my mind slipped that much that I wouldn’t have even remembered that I decided to move somewhere else, where there is more support for me. But, if anything, I suppose it cements the decision, confirming that it was in fact in my best interest, if I truly am that confused. I’m crying now, and there are tears spotting the pages, some of the ink has smeared. I’ll give it a go, and hold out as long as I can. I know that I can do it, I just have to try and stay focused.

  I picked up the paper, once I had calmed down, and began reading. It took a lot to make sure I didn’t skip over anything, or reread pages, but I’ve done it. John F. Kennedy is president now, and it seems that he’s doing some very lovely things. I believe he really cares about our nation. I never remembered much about him from my studies, except that he was the very attractive president who infamously slept with Marilyn Monroe. Looking at him today in the paper, he is very handsome, but he also appears very intelligent. His new programs to support the health of the nation are impressive. There is a bad taste in my mouth, though, as I remember what will happen to him soon. I’m too old for this burden of knowledge. I have been unable to help anyone, aside from my immediate family in specific, minute circumstances. It all seems so excessive and impractical, nothing but a burden. If I couldn’t stop World War I or II, and didn’t have the guile to do anything about it, I certainly cannot protect John F. Kennedy. And anyway, who would believe a delusional old woman?