Forget Me Now

by Alana Terry

  I shake my head, and he laughs at me again.

  “Meet me downstairs,” he says, “and I’ll find us a good movie. Just let me get dressed first.”

  A few minutes later, Marco comes downstairs, drying his hair with a towel. He tosses it onto Dad’s recliner then plops down next to me on the couch. “And how’s my favorite little sister?”

  “My head hurts,” I tell him, and I’m not sure if that’s because of this 24-hour bug I have or if it’s because I feel so disoriented. I remember getting really sick when I was in second or third grade. Turned into scarlet fever. I was at a gymnastics competition, told Mom I didn’t feel well, and the next thing I remember I was home taking lukewarm baths and having Mom stick a thermometer under my tongue every half an hour.

  “Want some pain meds?” Marco asks. “Doctor says the over-the-counter stuff is fine.”

  “Yes, please.”

  He gets up, and I’m surprised at how attentive he’s being. It’s not as if my brother and I don’t get along. We just don’t interact much at all. He comes home on holidays, and that’s about it. I honestly can’t remember the last time he sat down to watch a movie with me.

  He hands me two pills and a cup of water. It’s tepid, and I wince drinking it down. “Throat hurts,” I croak, handing him my cup.

  He nods. “Doctor said it might.” He sets the glass on the coffee table. He’s lucky Mom’s at the cabin or she’d rip into him for forgetting to use a coaster. He kicks his shoes up beside the glass, points the remote at the TV, and asks, “Well, Mimi, what are you in the mood to watch?”

  CHAPTER 15

  Marco’s finished nearly the entire pizza, and he keeps asking me if I want a slice. I don’t have the heart to tell him that even the smell of it makes me want to puke.

  We just finished watching Ant-Man and the Wasp. Marco can’t believe how behind I am in the Marvel movies. It wasn’t bad at all, but with this headache I had a harder time than I should have following the storyline. When I wake up tomorrow, I’m not even sure I’ll be able to tell you what it was about.

  “I’m tired,” I admit when Marco asks how I’m feeling. It’s not even night yet, but maybe if I get to bed early, I’ll sleep off this bug and take Marco up on his offer to drive me to the cabin in the morning.

  The worst part about today, I mean other than missing the first part of my senior trip, is that I don’t have my phone. Mom’s cell broke, and Dad didn’t want her to drive all the way out to the cabin without one, so she took mine. Marco assures me that she’s told Chris and all my friends what happened, but I feel so cut off. Right now, everyone’s probably on the deck or at the lake. Mom’s getting dinner ready, and it’s going to be something far more refined than Marco’s eleven-dollar-a-box pizza. Everyone’s laughing, everyone’s having the time of their lives ...

  I wish I could be there now.

  The doorbell rings. “Stay here,” Marco tells me. “I’ll get it.”

  The end credits are still rolling, and I wonder if there’s going to be one of those extra scenes at the end. It’s the only reason I haven’t turned the TV off yet. I hear a noise and eventually manage to stumble to my feet. I’m a little hungry but doubt I’ll be able to keep anything down.

  Marco’s talking to someone in the foyer. I stop before I reach the hallway and listen. I know that voice but can’t place it right away.

  “... wanted to come by and see how she’s doing.” Oh. Right. It’s Sandy from church. The pastor’s wife. What is she doing here?

  “That’s really nice of you,” my brother says, “but she’s actually asleep right now.”

  Asleep? No, I’m not.

  “Well, I’m glad you’ve come home,” Sandy says. “This has been a hard time for your father. I know he appreciates the extra help.”

  “That’s what I’m here for.”

  “I guess you heard about what happened earlier today?” Sandy asked. “How she ...”

  “Yeah,” Marco interrupts. “That’s the reason I’m missing work in the middle of the week.”

  Middle of the week? What’s he talking about?

  Sandy lets out a sigh that reverberates from the high ceiling. “It’s got to be so hard on your dad, first what happened to your mom, now this.”

  Something seizes in my chest. A flash of clarity that precedes a pulse of pain through my head so intense it feels like my individual hair follicles are shards of glass piercing my skull.

  A flash. I see it for just a split second. Come back. Come back. I almost remember ...

  Snippets from their conversation flash between my brain. Middle of the week ... what happened to your mom ...

  And I know.

  I see.

  I remember.

  I remember everything.

  “Mimi?” It’s Marco. I didn’t even hear him in the hallway. “Mimi. You okay?”

  I can’t talk. Can’t breathe. I think I’m afraid. Afraid of what?

  Afraid of who?

  I blink. Who’s talking to me? Marco?

  “Was someone here?” I ask. It’s like I’ve forgotten something. Something important. What was it?

  “Sandy from church,” he answers. “She heard you were sick and wanted to know if you needed anything.”

  He’s studying me quizzically. Why is he staring at me like that?

  “You look awful,” he says. “You should have stayed on the couch. Go lie down.”

  No, I don’t think that’s what I want to do. I came here for something. Out to the foyer. I was listening to something. I heard ...

  What was it?

  “My head hurts,” I tell him.

  Marco gives me a smile. “I know. Come on. Let me get you some Tylenol and then we’ll watch another movie.”

  At first my legs don’t want to follow him down the hallway. I’m afraid I can’t move at all.

  He stops and looks behind him. “Coming?”

  His voice snaps me out of my confusion, and now I remember where I am. What’s going on.

  It’s senior skip weekend. I’m sick. Marco’s here to take care of me, and if I’m better by tomorrow, he’ll drive me to the cabin to join my friends.

  I follow him into the living room. A movie sounds like exactly what I need. Something light. Something I’ve seen before so I don’t really need to pay all that much attention. Something funny where I’ll get all the jokes even if I’m listening with my eyes shut.

  But first, some Tylenol.

  CHAPTER 16

  I’m asleep on the couch. At least I think I’m asleep on the couch. The strange thing is I can still hear everything going on around me. I know that Marco’s here. I know we finished watching Thirteen Going on Thirty even though my brother hates romcoms. I know he only watched it to make me feel better, and I fell asleep sometime after Jennifer Garner’s Thriller dance.

  I know Marco watched the sports channel for a while, even though I couldn’t tell you what was on. Then the news, and now the TV’s off, and he and Dad are in the living room talking.

  “See? It’s better this way. No crying. No shock. She’s sleeping like a baby.”

  No, I’m not, I want to say, but my brother isn’t listening to me. He’s talking to Dad.

  “What happens if she finds out anyway?” Dad asks.

  “Can’t be worse than what you’ve been putting her through every day, can it?”

  “I don’t know.” I’ve never heard Dad sound so lost. So broken. I want to go and comfort him, tell him I’m fine. Except I can’t because I’m asleep. At least my body is, but my brain is alert.

  What’s going on?

  “Look at her,” Marco says. “I bet she hasn’t slept this well since the accident. And she’s had an entire evening where she’s been happy. That’s got to count for something, right?”

  “I suppose.”

  Their voices trail off. I want them to come back. I want to learn more. What are they talking about? And since when did Marco get so concerned about me and how well I may
or may not be sleeping? And when did he and Dad start getting along? Aren’t they supposed to hate each other?

  I debate whether or not I want to wake up. Wake up and try to find the answers to these questions myself. Or I could just turn off my brain and rest.

  Forget about what Marco said.

  Forget about my questions.

  Forget everything.

  And simply sleep.

  CHAPTER 17

  “Mia!” Mom calls from the back door of the cabin.

  I leave my spot next to Chris by the dock and run barefoot toward the cabin. “Yeah?”

  “Come in here,” Mom says. “I have a question for you.”

  “Okay,” I bound in, ready for a question about the final guest count or food allergies. But when I see Mom’s face, I realize this is something far more serious.

  “You having a good time so far with Chris?” she begins.

  “Yeah.” I hesitate, only because she’s looking at me so intently. What’s going on?

  Mom glances out the window as she dries her hands on the kitchen towel. Chris is sitting on the dock, his feet dangling in the water. “What are you guys talking about out there?”

  What is this? An interrogation? “Nothing much,” I answer. “Why?”

  Mom lets out a sigh. “Well, graduation is bringing lots of changes. I just wanted to know if Chris has mentioned any of his future plans to you yet.”

  “Like going to community college?” I asked. Mom knows all about that. She’s the one who urged him to apply and helped him file for financial aid.

  Mom is still looking out the window. “He’s a good boy,” she tells me. “A good man, I should say.” As if I didn’t already know. I would usually make a joke right about now, but she seems so intent.

  “Chris emailed me earlier,” she finally says.

  I wait. Why didn’t either of them mention something sooner?

  “Did you know that Chris called your father at his office this morning?”

  Chris calling my dad? Why would he do that? He’s terrified of the man.

  Mom studies me, the towel still in her hands. “Chris didn’t mention any of this?”

  “No.” Now I’m a little worried. What reason in the world does Chris have to talk about anything to my father, and why wouldn’t anybody tell me?

  Mom reaches over and gives me a hug. “Well, don’t let on that I said anything, all right? I just want you to know that I think Chris is wonderful. And you’re a smart, bright, capable woman, and whatever decisions you make, I support you a hundred percent.”

  Another hug.

  “I mean that, Mimi.” She holds my gaze. “A hundred percent.”

  “Okay.” I return the embrace albeit a little uncertainly. “Thanks.” Trying to lighten the mood, I give a little laugh. “Now if it’s all right with you, can I go enjoy some time with my boyfriend again?”

  “Of course,” Mom says, returning my smile even though her eyes don’t reflect it. “Why don’t you tell Chris to come in? I’m going to run to the store in a minute and I don’t want you two by the water alone.”

  I roll my eyes. Mom is so laid back about just about everything. Water safety is the only area where she is and always will be entirely paranoid.

  “Don’t give me that look, young lady.” She points a finger at me. “You know what happened ...”

  “I know, I know,” I interrupt. The story of the little boy who stepped on a bad piece of wood on his dock. If he’d survived, I’m pretty sure he’d be older than me by at least a decade, and yet his tragic fate has served as a warning for families in this area for as long as I can remember.

  Mom leans over. Gives me a kiss. “I love you, Mia. I love you so much, and I’m so proud of the young woman you’ve become.”

  She’s growing mushy now, probably thinking about my upcoming graduation. A few nights ago, I found her in her craft room poring over my baby pictures. She didn’t want me to see she’d been crying, but it was pretty obvious. She’s never been good at hiding anything.

  Especially from me.

  “Well, I’m off to the store,” Mom says. Just need to get some milk and some eggs ...” She’s rattling off her grocery list, but I’m not paying attention. I’m busy looking at my boyfriend from the back window. Chris has gotten up from his spot on the dock. His fists are clenched. He looks so assertive, so sure of himself. What changed?

  Mom grabs the keys, gives me one last kiss, and heads out through the garage. I watch while my boyfriend strides toward me with a determination I’ve never seen in him before in my life.

  CHAPTER 18

  Springtime. I’ve always loved the spring. And today’s going to be perfect. It’s the senior trip today. Time to get myself up and out of bed.

  Ow.

  I reach over to find my phone, knocking my clock off the nightstand in the process. What time is it?

  “That you, Mia?”

  Marco? What’s he doing home? Ever since he started working for that pharmaceutical company, he’s been too busy to ever come by. That and the fact that he and Dad hate each other.

  There’s a soft knock on my door, and he lets himself in. “You okay?”

  “Yeah.” I try to sit up, surprised to discover that I’m dizzy. “What’s going on?”

  “I’m home for the weekend,” he says then adds, “Doctor’s orders,” while flashing me a grin. Doctor’s orders? What’s that supposed to mean?

  “Headache?” he asks, holding out two pills and a cup of water.

  “Yeah. How’d you know?”

  “You were kind of out of it yesterday,” he says. “I thought you might wake up a little groggy, so I wanted to be ready.”

  “Where’s Mom?”

  He lets out a chuckle. “What do you mean where’s Mom? She went to the cabin.”

  “For the trip?” That doesn’t make any sense. I’m supposed to be there. I’m supposed to be on that class trip. Mom would have never left without me.

  Marco takes the cup back and sets it on my end table. “Mom wanted to stay here and take care of you, but you said it’d be better if she went so at least the rest of your friends could have a good time.” He waits for the words to sink in. “You really don’t remember?”

  I shake my head, and he laughs once more. “Well, what’d I always tell you about all that studying you do? You finally went and rotted your brain. Want to get up? I can make you some breakfast. How’s French toast sound?”

  I’m still trying to get past the part in the conversation where he told me Mom went to the cabin on my senior trip without me.

  “What day is it?” I ask.

  “Saturday,” he answers. “I told Mom if you were feeling better by this afternoon, I’d drive you up to the lake myself. Why don’t you get up? Maybe you just need a little breakfast. Meet me in the kitchen when you’re ready.”

  He shuts my bedroom door behind him, and I sit blinking. I missed my senior trip? Wouldn’t I remember that? Every time I move, my head aches. Maybe I really am sicker than I thought. Marco said something about breakfast, but the thought of food sends my stomach swirling in a sea of nausea.

  I reach out for my cell phone, then remember that I couldn’t find it on my night table just a few seconds earlier. Maybe I knocked it over when I upset the clock. I’d get down on my hands and knees to look for it, but I’m not sure my brain could handle that much jostling. Every time I move my body, it feels like a bolt of lightning is surging through my retinas and burning the back of my skull. I’m so tired. How long have I been asleep?

  It takes forever, but I finally manage to get myself dressed and head down the hall. I’m surprised to hear Dad’s voice on the phone in his office. What’s he doing home? He never takes the weekends off.

  I navigate the stairwell as carefully as I can. Each step I take feels like someone’s taking a jackhammer to my head, sending my brain ricocheting against the back of my skull. I can hardly see my feet on the stairs.

  Thankfully, Marco appears
a few feet in front of me and eyes me with concern. “You doing okay?” He jumps up the last few steps and puts my arm through his to support me the rest of the way down the stairwell. I can’t remember a time he’s done anything like this before.

  When I reach the kitchen, there’s already a plate of French toast and cut strawberries. The can of whipped cream sits beside a steaming cup of coffee. I don’t have the heart to tell Marco I doubt I can stomach any of this. He obviously went through a lot of work. For a second, I wonder if Mom’s paying him to be nice to me since I missed my senior trip. That would be one way to explain his unusual attentiveness.

  “What’s Dad doing home?” I ask as my brother sits beside me and digs into his own piled-up plate.

  Marco shrugs. “Work. What else?”

  We don’t say anything for a few minutes while I pick at my food. Nobody in the family is as good a cook as Mom, but the French toast isn’t bad. I’m pretty sure I’m hungry. If I could get past the nausea, I’d probably enjoy being spoiled like this by my big brother.

  “After breakfast, you want to watch a movie?” Marco asks.

  “Sure.” I’d be up for a romcom, but I’m pretty sure Marco will want to pick something with action and superheroes. I just hope the explosions and fight scenes aren’t too loud. I don’t think my brain can handle that.

  My stomach isn’t so sure about the coffee, but my brain perks up after my first few sips. If I can make my way through the entire mug, maybe I’ll be able to function. Marco has already finished his food and jumps up to clear the table.

  “Take your time,” he tells me, “and when you’re ready, we’ll get a movie started. Have you seen Ant-Man and the Wasp yet?”

  “No,” I answer. “Is it any good?”

  CHAPTER 19

  “So, what’d you think?” my brother asks when the movie’s over.

  “Aren’t we supposed to wait for the part after the credits?” I ask.

  Marco shrugs. “You can watch it, but you probably won’t understand it unless you’ve seen the other movies.” He turns off the TV. “What now? Think you’re ready to join your class at the lake? Senior trip. That’s a pretty big deal.”