The Power of Forgetting

by A M Russell

  'Joe! Please!' Marcia's voice. And then nothing.... until I see a sepia dimness. Night time illumination. Joe is in a chair reading some journal entries. He has reading glasses on. He looks at me; then immediately calls Marcia. She's there. She has changed her tee-shirt, I can see that; and her hair is pulled back in a stretchy red band. She does it when she is baking.

  'They must bring it to us by five. Six at the latest.' Joe's voice.

  'Yes,' says Marcia, 'I was on the radio. They'll call in twenty minutes. With results. And she has got one. They found the equipment store too.'

  'Eve?' I speak; but was a faded sound! Like old parchment that records the raw warm flow of life but cannot express its reality of sensation.

  She bends towards me and starts crying. Joe checks everything again. 'Marcia.... Not long now. If he can make it to dawn, we stand a chance.'

  'Why dawn?' she asks him with a slightly hysterical edge; and then calms down again.

  'Who can say? It just tends to be true that's all. Keep him warm Em.'

  A little while later, I am back in the pod. I don't remember being taken there. Marcia is wiping my face with a warm damp cloth. I feel different.... empty. My clothes are changed. I am wearing the dark blue tee and a button up shirt over that .... there are soft blankets wrapped around the rest of me.

  'Whatcha doing?' I joke weakly. Marcia lays down next to me and slides under the blankets. Her warmth is comforting. She presses her bare legs and belly against mine.

  'Why not take off the top, as well?' I can hear myself behaving like a typical oik; given half a chance. She slides her arms around me. I feel that shivering subside.

  'Body heat; you need a constant supply at the right temperature. I'm wearing knickers Jared.'

  'Please don't go....'

  'I won't; I promise.... I'll stay as long as you need.'

  I shuddered once then; something is changing, somehow becoming glassier. It is as if I'm separating out like cake mix that hasn't been stirred enough.

  'Marcia!' I breathe in suddenly, opening my eyes at the same time. Something is approaching. I can feel it.

  'No!' she says sharply, 'Don't you dare!'

  We are staring at each other face to face. I want to tell her how much I Love her. I want to beg her forgiveness for everything that I ever did that was wrong; or might be. But I know that if she tells me all is well.... Then I will let go. The saddest part of it is that I never made love to her. Never showed her my raw openness at its most foolish.... She would know what kind of Man I am. How childlike, how lost. I was still looking for kindness in others when there was none to be found. Girls who took my innocence, and taught me the grammar of desire. But I never learned the Art.... My imperfect cack-handed attempts to make things work with Marcia would have failed if she had been anything less than what she is. She is.... She is.... Truly the only good woman who has ever existed outside of my family.

  'Jared?' she nudges me. I was drifting. I see her face again. I know that she is the one I would want to wake to in the morning. She is the woman I can laugh with, and Love, and sit in the sun with. She is the one I would draw. I would cherish her image because it was of her. But cherish her most of all. I remember the swirling skirt as she danced. I want to dance with her....to move in harmony. To take her to dinner, and give her roses; and give her the ring that she wants. And work and do everything to please her; anyway I can. I would devote myself to her.... If I could have a second chance! No more crazy dreams....

  'Marcia!' I stare again and everything seems monochromatic. It is the greyness of predawn light.

  She moves to reach for the small lamp.

  'Wait….'

  'Alright Jay.' she clasps me again. One tiny briny drop crawls out from my lashes and trickles down. We kiss. And I stroke her cheek, making that effort to move my hand with a slow gentle movement.

  'What is the time?' I can only whisper now.

  'Just six.' Her voice lifts a little as if she wasn’t aware that it was that time already.

  'Will you dress me? I want to see it. The sunrise...please?' the words tumble out with a breath, that is nothing more than a slight sigh of sound. I cannot move. Everything is draining out. The copy mistook the dose. I was already suffering from the effects of the concoction. What was it? It was cruel of them to use Janey's knowledge. Janey would know.... Vaguely I wonder how long it will be before Davey gets back.

  Marcia is crying now. Her habitual self-control is breaking. She wipes her eyes with her hanky then begins to do what I ask.

  ‘Marcia!’ Joe calls to her; then puts his head through the doorway, ‘it’s melted! The readings are climbing again.’ He sees Marcia sliding my right foot into its boot. ‘What are you doing?’ he pulls her out of the space; ‘you can’t do that….it really will kill him!’

  ‘No! no. he wants to see the sunrise Joe.’ I hear her sob once, and Joe is talking quietly and reassuringly, and then says: ‘Call me when you’re ready.’

  Joe carries me out. This limp rag doll of a body. I feel lighter than meringues, and whipped cream. I catch myself thinking; why am I thinking about things to eat. It is Marcia of course. She makes me think of all the things I liked when I was little. She bakes them and makes them, and has a restaurant full of fabulous puddings and cakes; and other lovely stuff. I love it that she is so good at making those things. Happy things; children with messy faces…. I’m losing my grip on the world now.

  Joe has set me in the camping chair with a foot rest. I can see the light beginning to glimmer at the edge of the word. Marcia sits next to me and takes my hand. I can see her. And I can see the sunrise edging up above the horizon. In the dipped waves; then shimmering with rich gold he shoots his beams of light. Then the grey world turns to gold. And I have seen the dawn…. Really seen it; here in this strange land with my beloved by my side. I realise how warm it is again. As if that winter weather was some sort of incantation to stop us…. or to herd us down into danger.

  ‘Tell Davey…. thank you.’ I said; then, and after a few moments, ‘Tell Janey…. you are the best of us. And the bravest. And it’s okay now…. and…’

  ‘Please Jared…. don’t! there is still time. There are still some hours. The window of opportunity! They will be here.’ Then to Joe: ‘get on the radio! Ask then what is happening!’

  ‘Yes, of course.’ Joe said evenly, and went back inside the dome.

  Time slides by; and I watch the changing light from this vantage point, and wonder why I didn’t notice it’s beauty before. Milk white clouds formed and danced. Marcia sets a sunshade above us, and brings a drink to me. It only a short while since Joe set me here. But each moment seems so long. Joe glances at his watch and shakes his head at Marcia. She looks down, some inner argument working through. Then she looks up and smiles again. She holds the cup to my lips. It is something I have not tasted before. Cool and sweet. I don’t question. I just do what she wants; keep sipping as much as I can.

  ‘The tide is moving.’ said Joe, ‘they say they are crossing the channel in half an hour.’

  Marcia looks at her watch, ‘After they cross; It will take them two hours to get here…. We can do this.’

  Joe crouches down by me, ‘Now then Chief. How are you doing? Does it hurt again?’

  ‘No….no pain. Not bad yet….’

  ‘That’s good.’ Marcia seems relieved.

  ‘You are such a bad liar.’ Joe said to me, ‘I will get the med case now.’

  I am alone for a moment. Marcia has taken one of those two minute breaks that is necessary when you are drinking gallons of tea and waiting for something you dread to not happen…. Or then again; it might. Either, Or; heads or tails; Fish or chicken?

  Then I’m coughing. I feel that night black curling snake of pain in my mind slowly unfolding piece by piece. It must be the time. Now; when I am alone.

  ‘Father!’ I’m thinking of Leo….; he told me the choice I had to make. So, I want to send it on its way. To make this eviction permanent.
I want to be free. If it is the last thing I do…. I try to laugh then; it is the last thing I will do!

  Then I reach inside. There it is a kind of golden shape. It is the time flux that every traveller has embedded into the central part of their mind. I am surprized, yet not, at how flexible it is. I plunge in and imagine drawing out a few golden strands. Not everyone has a visual image. For some it is a sound; perhaps a piece of music or a taste of different ingredients that they somehow mix together. For me it is always colours and light. When I was a child, I was told this meant that my travelling potential must be first level; but since I failed the test…. sort of, I was never assessed. My mother put her foot down, and refused to let me be put through the test again…. which I was relieved about. But it meant I could be not just first level…. I could be the one my mother really believed I was already. I thought of Karis…. Big Sister. So effortless…. So incredibly smooth and without strain. So I got a little lost? I could have corrected it. If I hadn’t landed in the early part of the twentieth century in a field of war. Soldiers and Angels fighting on two different levels. I could see them…. I could see them all.

  Here I am; the day is warm. I slowly and painfully stand up. The breezes slow….and then stop. The silence is warm. And for the first time; I am ready, actually ready to fly. Metaphorically…. or perhaps for real. I slowly unclip my jacket. It slides off one shoulder, then the other; and as if it is made of the lightest silk, floats gently to the ground. I walk forward, very slowly to the edge of the slope. The sea is like complex sculpture; the waves stilled into curves and swirls and crystals through which the sun gleams on the pebbles beneath. Fish curl in patterns like toys set in resin….

  I’ve done it! A time stop; just like at the forest glade…. the anomaly had been just like that; a glassy pebbled window. And mercifully I am free of pain for the first time in hours. So how do I do this? I look upwards….at the sky. That perfect blue; with the fringed white purity of clouds.

  Quite suddenly I drop to my knees. I am breathing faster and harder; an energy boiling out of me…. A black fire coming from that dark place. There is a mist in front of my eyes; and then I am afraid….

  It is worse than before; like dog shaking a rat, this dark thing hurls itself against the door. This time I don’t shut it out.

  ‘I tell you to leave! You can go now; leave me!’ then I am coughing violently, and with a hot pain that feels like vomit, something roars through my throat.

  I am underwater. I cannot breathe. I put my hands to my face. God help me! I scream inside my mind over and over. Every door is open to let it out. I don’t control it; don’t push it down. I tell it again to go….

  I can breathe. I gasp; and then cough in a bout that seems to last too long. The air is tearing at my lungs and throat. I spit something out onto the ground. Then with one last reflex of my diaphragm it is expelled. I feel it leave. Something tumbles over and over away from me. I’m crying with relief and shock. I spit blood out of my mouth: ‘Oh God help me! Please! I want to be clean… to be whole again. Let me be on the good side…. I want to be sane…help me…. please help me….’ it ends as I cry into the earth. My ribs ache. That frightened child is here again, sobbing from fear and loneliness.

  There is a moment then…. when I know, and I remember. I chose this way now. This path. I feel calmer. Slowly everything cools; is still. There is a coolness inside. The ends of the earth; and the flowers of the field. In my mind’s eye I see them. Silver flowers. I look up. And the path is clear this time. An Angel does not bar the way. I see a strip of land… of sparkling sand. And I stand up. There is a Man. He walks towards me. Am I dreaming? In this place I am not afraid.

  In my dream…if it is a dream. He stops a little way from me. What way will you go Jared, son of Leo?

  “I don’t know.” I reply.

  Then turn and look; and chose, for I lay the path at your feet. And since you have called to me in this hour I will let your choice stand.

  “What choice?”

  Then I turn and see. I realise I am not dreaming. Time has resumed its flow. Marcia running from the dome. Behind her Joe. There is the shell of me. Laying on the grass, face down. Blood staining my lips, and ashen faced.

  “Am I dead?” I asked him. A movement to my left catches my eye. A pile of dusty feathers, that shakily forms itself into the faded figure of an angel. He stands up looking doddery and creased. The whole body is covered with a fine layer of ash, whitish and powdery. This creature sees the Man and on its knees prostrates itself before him. I see the feathers vibrate. It seems to be trembling with fear; or it is in awe of this person. The Man calmly regards me with eyes of love, and of fire and water. He is wearing a shirt and slacks; they are like my own. They are purple and blue. I love the colours….so richly deep so fine; so pure. I see what I have tried to say as I paint. I wouldn’t not need to paint anymore. For here is the original, the real. No longer the shadow or the copy.

  I look again at the little scene before me. And as I concentrate the sound comes to me. There is a line of silver that connects me to the form of the Man on the ground. It is still me then. I am still connected. I have not left. Just stepped right out of myself for a few minutes. This isn’t like Cloud field. Not like before…. This is a real choice; and I am free of that burden and that weight. I look at my broken body. I see them turn him over. He is lifeless and the arms fall outwards to each side. Joe feels for a pulse. Then he starts CPR. Marcia runs to the dome like a scared rabbit. Less than thirty seconds later she returns with blankets and the larger case: crash kit.

  I look at that Man. He came to me. I am not alone. But then I realise that Marcia must feel alone. I look to the side. To the dusty angel.

  “Stand up!” I say to him. He obeys but keeps his head bowed. He dares not look at the peaceful Man who stands by me.

  “Look at Me.” And then he does. And it is so pitiful; so pathetic; a cringing wreak that trembles at my voice. Yet while he was inside me it felt like darkness and fire and madness. But that was me…. He and I; we were joined because we were afraid. He ran inside my body to escape from his fear all those years ago. Because of fear. And now I am not afraid….

  A curious thing happened then: a very curious thing; I saw why he did it. He worked for those oily creatures, and they had told him that if a bright angel catches you, it will be mincemeat for you! But they had put away their swords. I remembered it right. They weren’t talking about me; but him: “Don’t frighten him.” they said. They meant this. This faded shadow. He wasn’t black anymore; he had changed.

  “What is your name?” I asked him

  “I have no name that I can remember Master.” I recoiled from that voice. It had lost its potency but not its coldness.

  When I did not answer; a shudder went through this sad thing from head to wingtips.

  I looked at the Man beside me. “What should I do?”

  Be guided by the greatest thing.

  “What is the greatest thing there is?”

  Instead of answering he pointed. I turned. There they were: Davey and Oliver, and with them Janey and Hanson! They all crowded round. Trying to help me. Marcia sat back in shock. They kept going.

  “Clear!” shouted Joe. The body springing with lines of fire but nothing doing yet. They kept going. Janey had the case. Hanson helped her: “But which one shall we give him?” Janey looked to Joe, horror filling her countenance.

  Oliver gripped her shoulder. “Calm now Lady. Calm. And think…. Work it out; a few seconds.”

  I could see her lips moving doing the arithmetic in her head. A life depended on the right dose of antidote. Too little would not stop the further damage; too much would overload the liver and kidneys itself. She was shaking. Hanson put his hands over hers; and helped her get the hypo filled. A large dose, nearly maximum, but not quite.

  ‘You’ll have to do it.’ Janey said to Hanson, ‘I can’t….’

  ‘Okay.’ He said, ‘Let me.’

  Joe found the
vein and wiped the spot. Hanson expertly laid the needle against the flesh and injected the bluish liquid smoothly.

  This had all happened in a few seconds. They all stared at the body of Jared. They had the nozzle over the mouth and nose.

  ‘Oh no!’ Janey stared. She went to Marcia and hugged her. Marcia just crumpled, sobbing in pain. Janey looked up as the four men carried on working on him.

  Suddenly a cry; loud; insistent, uncompromising:

  ‘Take me! Take me instead! Do you hear me? Do you?!’ Janey was screaming at the top of her lungs; ‘I can’t bear it. I cannot let Marcia be destroyed like this!! Do you hear Me!!!’

  Then a few seconds later: ‘I won’t work for you; if you take him now! I can’t do it. My life…. take it if it brings him back!!!’

  She seemed to be saying something more softly then: ‘Jared! Oh Jared! Little brother. I loved you, my whole life…. What happened to you? Don’t you know we love you? Don’t you know how much we love you? Can you hear me Jared? Listen to me…. Marcia needs you; she will not come back from this Jared. She will not. Don’t you see? They are stronger than her; let him have me in your place….so her heart will not be broken….’