[2014] Ten Below Zero

by Whitney Barbetti

  “It was not a waste,” she admonished him.

  “It kind of was,” Everett said. I turned to look at him. I wasn’t following the conversation and knew I’d missed out on something.

  Patricia sighed but before she could say anything, I blurted out, “Why was it a waste?”

  “Because he can’t remember it,” Robert said, gesturing towards Everett with his whiskey. “We spent a week touring the southwestern states and after the surgery, poof!” He gestured an explosion with his hands. “It was wiped from his memory.”

  I let that sink in. And then I turned to Everett. “That six months you lost?”

  He turned his head, nodded. Everything was starting to make sense. Everett had lost the memories from that trip. And he was experiencing it again, anew, with me. His eyes were concentrating on mine. My hand that was on my lap moved to his thigh and I squeezed and nodded my head once, indicating I understood.

  Before I could move my hand from his lap, his hand laid on top of it. And then he squeezed, three times. Like he had outside the tattoo shop.

  I turned my attention back to his parents. Robert was focused on his drink, but Patricia had clearly watched our exchange. “Tell me about yourself, Parker,” she said kindly.

  “There’s not much,” I answered. And I was bothered by that. Bothered by knowing there wasn’t much. I’d seen more of living in the last week since meeting Everett than I had in the last three years. I cleared my throat. “I’m a waitress. Or,” I frowned, “I was a waitress. I’m going to school for anthropology.” And that was it. That was all that I was.

  Everett squeezed my hand under the table again. “She’s funny,” he said to his mother, but looking at me. “She’s really stubborn and smart.” He lifted his free hand to brush my hair from my face. I couldn’t breathe. His blue eyes penetrated mine. “She’s clumsy, but she’s strong.” His hand on mine squeezed again. My chest was tight, aching. “She’ll tell you she doesn’t care, but she does. It’s just deeper than the surface.” The hand that had brushed away my hair was resting on my shoulder. “That’s what’s so great about her. She’s not artificial. When she feels, it’s real. She’s real, down to the bone.” His eyes were soft, warm, and it hurt to keep looking into them. He squeezed my hand a third time. “She’s the warmest person I know.” Under his gaze, I was transparent.

  Everett smiled, but it was a sad smile. I blinked rapidly, trying to chase away the liquid that had formed in my tear glands. And I looked away, over my right shoulder, inhaling a deep breath. When I turned back to the table, Patricia was staring at me with what I could only describe as elation. It felt like another obligation to me, however. Once you made someone happy, you were obligated to keep them that way. It was a responsibility I didn’t want. I didn’t want to own a piece of anyone’s happiness.

  Nothing would come of me and Everett. He said I was stubborn, but he was more so. He’d rather die than live. And that realization caused me to excuse myself from the table.

  I first went to the restroom, thrust my hand in the cool water from the sink, trying to cool any part of my body. But then I felt like I couldn’t breathe. My chest hurt, my head hurt. The dress was too tight, the air was too recycled. I was breathing in air that had been inhaled and exhaled repeatedly. I needed real, honest air.

  I stumbled outside, into the dark parking lot. My ankle was still a little swollen from the fall at the canyon the day before, and walking on gravel that badly needed repair while wearing heels was not exactly smooth sailing.

  I walked all the way into the parking lot, out to Everett’s Jeep. It was parked near the back, so I hobbled my way to it, intending to change into the flip flops I’d left in the backseat. I peered in the windows of the Jeep, unable to see my flip flops through the darkness.

  It was at that moment that I felt something, something in my brain that warned me to pay attention. I turned around, looking over my shoulder. There was a man watching me from about twenty feet away. I couldn’t make out his features because he was standing between two vehicles, shadowed, watching me. I braced a hand on the Jeep, feeling the warmth of it under my hand. And then a memory came through.

  I was looking in my car windows while unlocking the door when he came up behind me. I couldn’t see his face. Only the reflection of his hooded head facing the window I was looking into. I spun around, hitting him with my purse. He moved away for a second and my eyes scanned the parking lot, looking for help anywhere.

  My eyes focused from the nightmare to real life. The man standing between the two vehicles was staring at me. His features blurred. All I could see what a hoodie. I screamed and the memory came back to me in stunning clarity.

  “Get away from me!” I screamed. My voice sounded unnatural, animalistic. I felt the heat of my car at my back as I held my purse up, ready to hit him again. My hand trembled, the surge of fear and adrenaline mating in my veins rendering me unstable.

  “You won’t be doing that again.” His voice. Oh god, his voice. It sounded like he swallowed sandpaper. It was deep, and there was no mistaking the threat it promised. That’s when I saw the glint of what he had in his hand. He held it up, the one small light in the parking lot reflecting off of the knife. “Give me your keys. Get in the car. Shut up, or I will cut you open.” The way he said that word, said “cut” was enough to make my blood run ice cold.

  A sob tore from my throat and my knees shook so hard I fell onto the concrete. His arm grasped mine and he took the keys from my fingertips. The next thing I knew, he’d hauled me to my feet and shoved me from the driver’s door to the passenger seat. It had to be a nightmare, I told myself. I willed myself to wake up. But this wasn’t a nightmare. This was reality. My entire body was shaking. I couldn’t process what was happening. Fear was prominent, it was keeping me from feeling anything else.

  He pushed the knife to my neck. “Don’t try anything stupid,” he warned, pushing the tip of the knife into my flesh. I felt the prick from it slicing my skin. When he pulled the knife back, I saw my blood on its tip. “Just sit in that seat,” he spat. His saliva hit my face in a spray and I closed my eyes, swallowing back the vomit that climbed up my throat.

  He put the car into gear while I shuddered a breath. I felt the shock sliding from my shoulders, felt it leaving my brain, and then my synapses started firing off. When the shock completely left my body, several minutes had passed, and we were well on our way out of town. He had plans for me, I knew. My brain was now in fight mode.

  I didn’t think. I just grabbed the steering wheel and pulled it, swerving the car up onto a curb, jolting me against the door. My head slammed against the door window and I saw stars, but I forced myself to stay awake.

  The man’s eyes bugged out of his head. I couldn’t make their color, but the whites of his eyes were so overwhelmingly dominant beneath the hoodie that fear choked my throat again, right before one of his hands clamped and squeezed that spot itself. He alternated his eyes from the road to me as he settled the car back onto the road and increased his speed. “Are you stupid?” he screamed. His eyes were bulging, like a cartoon nightmare.

  I grinded my teeth. I would not die this way. I would not. Vomit threatened again and instead of swallowing it, I turned my head to him and let it go.

  The next ten seconds were a blur. The knife cut my face first as he reached blindly for me, the car still speeding. I turned my head so he caught my cheek, felt the blood trickling down my face a second later. I reached for the handle of the door and heard the swish of the knife by my head. The sound it made as it cut the air, desperate to gain purchase on my skin, made my skin burn with shock.

  I swung my arm to block a hit that was aimed for my face, felt the knife cut my arm. I could barely hear a word he yelled over my screaming. I reached blindly, touched skin that didn’t belong to me and dug my nails in. I felt the flesh ripping under my fingertips and vomited again. And then I reached for the door handle behind my back with one hand and pushed it out. Another sob, a sob
of relief, fell from my lips as I fell out of the car, hitting the pavement and rolling.

  I heard the slam of his breaks. Heard him swearing. And then I heard another noise. A gun shot. Steps running. Tires squealing. A shout. I smelled rubber burning, but my eyes were throbbing, coated in blood and tears; I couldn’t open them. I was in and out of consciousness when I smelled the smoke and coffee. “Fuck.” It was a woman’s voice. “Fuck fuck fuck.” I felt her going through my pockets. I made a noise, but everything hurt. Every movement ached. Breathing was exhausting me. I heard her clapping and the sound made me open one eye.

  “Mouse.”

  I came out of the memory screaming, my hands on my face.

  “Shh,” a voice said. I pushed against it, screaming, my hands punching anything they could reach. “Parker,” the voice said.

  Everett. I stopped fighting and clung to him. We were sitting on the ground, in the parking lot, so I climbed into his lap, my fingers searching for him. “Everett,” I breathed.

  “You’re safe, Parker. You’re safe.” I clung to that while my breathing evened out. Terror still wracked my veins, but I knew what Everett said was true. I was with him. I was safe.

  “Do you need us to call an ambulance?” I opened my eyes and looked around. We weren’t alone. There was a small crowd in the parking lot. The voice stepped forward and I recognized it as the hostess of the restaurant.

  I buried my head into Everett’s shoulder. “No, we’re fine thank you,” he said.

  Embarrassed, I held tighter to Everett, pulling his dress shirt to its breaking point. He lifted my head, forcing me to look at him. “Everyone is watching us,” I said, embarrassment overpowering the terror that was slowly leaving my veins.

  “I’m watching you.” He held my face, running his fingers over my cheekbones and my lips. “I’m watching you, always.”

  It reminded me of our first dance. He’d said the same thing then. So I concentrated completely on Everett, let the background drop off, out of my vision.

  “Let’s go back to the hotel,” he said, dropping a kiss to my forehead. He walked me around to the passenger side of the car, out of view.

  “Everett,” I said, my voice slipping. I wrapped my arms around his neck, squeezing him. His arms immediately wrapped around my waist, his lips touched the side of my face. “I remember,” I murmured against his neck.

  “I know.” He kissed my temple. “You’re going to be okay.” He held me a minute longer before pulling back. He touched his lips to mine briefly. “Now, it’s time for you to heal,” he whispered against my lips. And then he helped me into the car.

  It wasn’t until we were almost to the hotel that I realized I’d hugged him. I’d reached out, for comfort, from him.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  My knees were scuffed up from falling on the pavement. Everett sat me on the counter in our hotel bathroom and cleaned them. He kept looking at me from beneath his eyebrows, while he was bent over cleaning my knees.

  “I’m sorry about dinner,” I said, wincing with each touch to my knees.

  Everett gave me his trademark, ‘don’t be stupid’ look. It was a look filled with impatience. “Do you think I really care about dinner? My dad was so drunk that he was out of his mind anyway.”

  “I liked your mom.”

  “Who doesn’t? She’s the most self-sacrificing person in the world. She’s given so much of herself and still has so much to give. There aren’t many people like that. In fact, there are more people who abuse that, who take from those kinds of people.” Everett tossed aside a dirty cotton ball. “My dad included.”

  I didn’t know how to reply so I kept my mouth shut, chewing on my lip.

  “What happened?” he asked.

  I sucked in a breath when he dug a pebble out of my skin. “I couldn’t breathe,” I said. “I went outside for air and my ankle hurt, so I decided to change into flip flops before going back inside.”

  “Did you black out?”

  “No,” I frowned. “I had just reached the Jeep when I turned around and saw someone watching me from a shadowed area of the parking lot. I touched the door of the Jeep and then the memory came rushing to the surface.”

  “Did the man come any closer?”

  I shook my head. “I honestly think he was harmless. But the memory was coming so fast that I panicked.” I looked down at my knees. “I must have fallen.”

  “It’s these damn shoes,” he growled, pulling them off and tossing them out of the bathroom.

  “I thought men liked women in heels.”

  Everett looked at me impatiently. “I like women – or more specifically, one woman – just the way she is. I don’t need you to wear makeup or fancy clothes. It’s not going to change how I see you.” He stood up, satisfied with the state of my knees, and helped me down from the counter. “This,” he said, running his fingers down my dress, “is perception. It’s what my eyes see. But this,” he pressed his hand to the center of my chest, just above the bust line of the dress, “is reality. I much prefer this. This,” he said, pushing again, “this is what my soul sees.”

  I couldn’t move my eyes away from him. My heart, the thing that I hadn’t acknowledged all this time, swelled. It was my heart that was feeling all the things he did to me. The crack, the swell, it was my heart.

  “Those things I said in the restaurant, what I said about you, it’s all true. I can’t lie. Sure, you’re ornery and sometimes a brat. But you’re good. You don’t want to be, but you are. You’re brave, and you stand up for yourself, even when you’re wrong.” He grinned. I narrowed my eyes. “But you stand by your opinion. You don’t bend for anyone, not even me.” His hands reached for my head, cradling it in his hands. He kissed me. And then he pulled away. “I do have a question though.”

  My head was tilted back, my eyes closed. I swallowed to relieve my suddenly dry throat. “What’s that?”

  “If fear triggered your memory, why hasn’t it happened before?”

  “I don’t put myself in scary situations, I guess.” I opened my eyes.

  “But what about in Denver? When I pulled that…” Everett swallowed, seemingly uncomfortable with the memory. “When I pulled that man off of you. Why didn’t your memory come back then?”

  I thought about that moment, when I’d fallen and looked up at the sky. “Because the moment I felt fear, I remembered. I knew you were there, you called my name. I wasn’t afraid, because I wasn’t alone.”

  Everett’s eyes were sad. I didn’t like his sad eyes, I was realizing. I hadn’t cared, not truly. And now I did. “What’s wrong?”

  I watched the muscles in his throat move as he swallowed. “I won’t always be there.”

  “But you can try,” I said. “You can try to fight it. You could have a long life.”

  Everett sighed and pulled me by the hand out of the bathroom, to the bed. He sat on the end and patted the spot next to him. “Sit by me.”

  I sat by him and watched him form his thoughts. “Have you ever seen ‘Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind’, the movie with Jim Carrey and Kate Winslet?” he asked.

  “I’ve heard of it, but I haven’t seen it.”

  Everett pulled my hand onto his lap and held it between both of his. “Do you know what title means, where it comes from?”

  I shook my head.

  “There’s this poem by Alexander Pope called ‘Eloisa to Abelard’ and it’s based off the story of a woman named Heloise and her illicit love affair with her teacher, Abelard. Heloise/Eloisa and Abelard were doomed from the start. Her family believed he had bad intentions and they castrated him. The lovers were separated and Heloise was in such grief from it, from knowing that Abelard could no longer feel the same for her as she did for him. Alexander Pope described it in his this poem. I have it in my journal.” He reached under his pillow and pulled out the journal. He flipped to the back of it, to the words he wrote on the back cover and handed it to me.

  I read it aloud.

&n
bsp; How happy is the blameless vestal's lot!

  The world forgetting, by the world forgot.

  Eternal sunshine of the spotless mind!

  Each pray'r accepted, and each wish resign'd;

  I looked at Everett, confused. “I don’t know what this means.”

  Everett took his journal back from me. “It’s told from Heloise, or Eloisa’s, point of view. She begged, she prayed for forgetfulness. She was in anguish. She would rather forget than feel the pain. So in this section of the poem, she is happy because she’s prayed for and received the gift of forgetting. The movie took the line from this poem, and it’s about a couple who meet after having their memories erased of one another. They choose this willingly, to have their memories of each other erased.” He set the journal by his pillow and stood up, pacing. “I’ve lost memories. I lost the good and the bad.” He stopped pacing to look at me. “I lost memories of the trip I took with my family, the trip where everything was fine, right before it wasn’t. I lost the memories from when we came home and my sister found out she was pregnant and my dad started sleeping on my grandfather’s basement couch. I lost all of it.” He sat back down next to me, grabbed my hand again and squeezed. “I planned this trip based on the spots I visited before, hoping it would trigger a memory and it would all come back to me, like fear did for you, tonight.”

  “And did it?”

  He shook his head. “No. But something better happened. I created new memories. I danced with you in Las Vegas. I saw you take in the Grand Canyon and try to diminish it with words you didn’t mean. I held you close to me while we stood in four states together, feeling your heart beat against mine. Giving you the hug you should have had years ago. And we sat under an arch and looked out over an area that was named for purgatory.”

  My breaths were shallow and I touched the space on my ribcage, where my new ink was.

  He continued. “That moment was beautiful. You were beautiful.” I had to turn my face away from him. All my feelings for Everett were materializing, and quickly, becoming solid and easily identifiable. He grabbed my face in his hand and turned me to face him. “It was sweet. It was a sweet moment for me,” he said, staring into my eyes.