“And all these interrelationships . . . Debbie’s grandmother owns Grandma’s Kitchen?”
“So?”
“You never mentioned that!”
“It wasn’t exactly my idea of a news flash, Aaron. Jesus.”
“Who else is related to whom here?”
“I don’t know,” she said. “When I find out, I’ll be sure to tell you, okay? Just don’t talk about anyone to anyone. You never know who’s related to whom,” she added with mock-seriousness.
“It’s not funny,” he said. “I feel too much like a stranger in my own home as it is, but to learn intimate details about my own finances and from a man who I really just met . . .”
“I’m sorry, Aaron,” she said and snuggled closer to him, taking his arm and laying her head on his shoulder. “I guess I’m just being overly protective, but I love you so much and I worry about you so much, I can’t help it. It’s a good fault, but I promise one I’ll correct.”
“I appreciate your reasons for doing it, Megan,” he said, relenting. “I really do. I just don’t want to feel like an outsider or worse yet, foolish. I’ve still got this old-fashioned idea about the man being the head of the household.”
“I know. I’ll make sure you don’t get sandbagged from now on. I promise, honey.”
“Umm,” he said.
She leaned forward and turned on the CD player. Edith Piaf came on singing “La Vie en Rose.”
“Remember this?” she whispered, kissing him on the neck.
“Sure,” he said. He looked at her, looked in her eyes. Memories swirled about. They were in some café. “It was in New York, some special little place, right? I met you there after work.”
“That’s right,” she said. “The last time was about four months ago. Is it all coming back?”
“Yes,” he said. “The music, the food, candlelight . . . yes, I remember us there,” he added excitedly.
“See. You’re going to be fine, Aaron,” she whispered. “Soon you’ll be completely back with me again.”
The music flowed through the car. It made him feel warm and content.
For the moment at least, his anxieties were contained.
He hadn’t been in Driftwood that long, and already he was a success, a part of a rather dynamic corporate entity, actually, wealthy.
Why be angry about anything?
Sophie was asleep when they arrived home. Megan paid the baby-sitter and straightened up the living room and the kitchen before joining him in their bedroom. He was standing by the bathroom sink, staring at himself in the mirror when she appeared. His face was so close to the glass, he looked as if he was searching for a small imperfection.“What’s so interesting, Aaron?” she asked as she began to undress.
“Did I ever have a mustache or a beard, Megan?”
“Yes, for a while you had a mustache, but both Sophie and I complained about the bristles. She used to call it the pins, whenever you kissed her, and after a while you hated trimming it. When you were in college, you had a full beard.”
“How come I don’t have any pictures of myself in college?”
“I don’t know, Aaron. You never showed me any if you did have some. Besides,” she said, now only in her bra and panties and stepping beside him, “I like you better just the way you are.” She ran her lips over his cheek and stopped at the corner of his mouth to nibble gently.
He laughed. “That tickles,” he said.
Her hand was in his shirt, moving up over his chest.
“Come to bed,” she said, “and stop worrying about what you looked like. Forget the past. Think only of the here and now.”
Her right hand reached around his hip and grasped his rear.
“Hey, a bit aggressive for a pregnant woman, aren’t you?”
“So? Take control,” she challenged. “Be the head of the household.”
She kept her finger in under his belt and tugged him out of the bathroom and to the bed where she sat, undid his pants and lowered his shorts along with them. Then she put her hands around his hips andpulled him toward her, taking him in so quickly, he nearly fell over her. In seconds his heart was pounding. She had the tip of her tongue down the stem of his penis, tantalizing him until he cried out that he was losing control.
She pulled back and laughed.
“So?” she said. “That’s the way I like you best.”
She undid her bra and lowered her panties. Then she urged him beside her, kissed his neck and suddenly turned over on him, fitting herself to his erection, and starting to move in slow, long pumps that drove him crashing into an orgasm quickly. She laughed at his gasps of pleasure, and then she rolled over on her back while he caught his breath.
“Wow,” he said. “Were we always this good?”
“When you had your mind completely in it, we were,” she said.
“I can’t imagine not.”
“Good. Don’t ever go back to that.”
He laughed.
“What’s so funny?”
“Another thing I can’t imagine is Morgan making love to Debbie.”
“Debbie’s pretty good at getting him to perform the way she wants,” Megan said. “Don’t underestimate her.”
“I wasn’t thinking of her powers. I was thinking of his.”
“A good woman makes a man good.”
“Really? Is that another slogan here in Driftwood?”
“Matter of fact,” she said, kissing the tip of his nose, “I made it up myself. Advertising, remember?”
“Yes, but what are you trying to sell with it?” he asked, turning and staring at her.
Her lips pulled back in an impish grin.
“Success, Aaron. Just success for women as much as for men. That’s all right, isn’t it?” she asked.
He squeezed his eyebrows toward each other.
Of course it was, he thought, but why did it sound so ominous when she said it?
. . . fifteen
megan was up and dressed by the time Aaron opened his eyes the next morning. She had just completed brushing her hair and fitting her earrings and had not yet put on her blouse. The skin on her back looked so smooth, radiant, glittering in the morning sunlight spilling through the windows behind him. He was drawn to the turn in her neck and the tantalizing sight of the side of her firm breast. Her beauty stirred him. She was his private goddess. What an exquisite sight to see the moment he woke.However, when she moved slightly to the left, he glimpsed her image in the mirror. For a second or two, he thought he had gone mad. The woman in the glass looked as if she was ninety, her face as wrinkled as a dried fig, her hair thin and gray, her breasts two sagging sacks of white flour. Almost as quickly as the horrid image appeared, it vanished. Thankfully. Must be a lingering nightmare, he thought, like an image remaining on the retina.
She turned, smiling at him.
“Finally waking up, sleepyhead?”
He ground his eyes gently with his closed hands. His beautiful wife stood before him again, putting on her blouse.
“What’s happening? Why are you up so early?” He gazed at the clock. “It’s only a little past six.”
“Oh, I have to go somewhere with Mrs. Masters this morning. Didn’t I tell you that last night?”
He shook his head.
“What about Sophie?”
“I’ll get her dressed and give her breakfast before I leave. She’s already up. You don’t have to take her to school. She can take the school bus this morning. Just make sure she’s out there by seven-fifteen, okay?”
She came over to kiss him. It was a longer-than-expected kiss, her lips pressed softly and yet full of demand.
“A kiss is a strange thing, isn’t it, Aaron? Two people giving so much to each other and yet taking so much. You can tell how much someone loves you by how much he wants his lips touching yours, don’t you think?”
“Yes, but there are different kisses for different times,” he said.
“Not for me. For me, every kiss is far more t
han a hello or a goodbye. It’s feel-my-heart time.” She laughed at his puzzled expression. “I’ll call you later this afternoon,” she said.
“Hey, wait a minute,” he called as she started for the door. “Where are you going?”
“To that other world, New York City,” she replied, raising her eyes toward the ceiling. “We have a meetingwith some executives at a firm that wants to use us. Don’t forget your medication,” she added and started out again.
“Hey,” he called. She paused at the door. “Where do we keep our albums, videos, stuff like that? I was looking for it the other day and couldn’t find any of it.”
“That stuff’s still in one of the cartons in the basement, Aaron. Wait until I’m home tonight, and we’ll look for things together,” she replied.
“And what about our important papers, insurance documents, title deeds, marriage certificates, stuff like that?”
“Why, that’s all in our safety deposit box, Aaron. You don’t leave things like that around. You’re the one who told me that,” she said.
“Well, which bank is it?”
“Driftwood National, of course, the bank where we have established our accounts, silly.”
“Well, there are two banks here. I just wanted to be sure we didn’t split things up to keep everyone happy. Where’s the key?”
“What are you up to, Aaron Clifford?” she asked with a tight smile.
“I just thought if I started to review all that stuff slowly, I would help my memory.”
“Did the doctor tell you to do that?”
“You keep telling me to wait for the doctor’s permission to do things. Some things are just plain common sense, Megan. I don’t need the doctor to tell me every little thing,” he replied sternly.
She stared at him.
“The key is in the top drawer of my jewelry chest inthe closet,” she said. “If you want to wait, I’ll go with you to the bank tomorrow afternoon. Okay?”
“I guess,” he said, lying back.
“Don’t fall back to sleep. Sophie has to get on that bus,” she warned.
“All right, I won’t.”
She smiled at him and headed for Sophie’s room. By the time he did get up, showered and dressed, she was gone and Sophie was waiting patiently for him in the kitchen. It was just after seven.
“Mommy told me to wake you by seven if you didn’t come down here by then,” she said, looking at the clock.
He laughed at the intensity of her facial expression. She took her orders from Megan very seriously.
“Mommy made you coffee, and she told me to be sure you had your orange juice and took your pill.”
“Is that right? Well, with all this attention I’m getting from my favorite girls, I guess I’ll be fine,” he joked. She didn’t smile. She’s such a serious little girl, he thought. “All right. You can watch me,” he said and poured himself a glass of juice.
“What about your pill, Daddy?”
“Took it already,” he reported. “Okay, boss?”
She finally laughed.
“I’m not your boss, Daddy. You’re supposed to be the boss. You and Mommy.”
“Yes, well, these days I feel more like a private than a general.”
She laughed again. “It’s not the army. It’s a family,” she said.
“I’m not so sure anymore. All right, I guess we’dbetter get you outside to catch that bus. You like riding on the bus?”
“Yes,” she said, getting up. “When I can sit by a window.”
He escorted her out. There was a cool breeze this morning and some ominous clouds blowing in from the north. Winter was on the horizon.
“As soon as I’m home today, we’ll read some more of your book and answer some more questions, okay?”
“Yes, Daddy.”
He thought about the things Megan had told him, how he had neglected Sophie when she was younger and how his brother-in-law had filled in.
“Maybe we can all take a trip soon. Where would you like to go?”
“I don’t know. Where can we go?” she replied.
“Let’s see,” he said, looking down the road for signs of the approaching school bus. “We can go see a big show in New York or go to the zoo.”
“I like the zoo,” she said quickly. “I like throwing peanuts to the monkeys and making monkey faces back at them.”
“Okay.”
“You do, too, Daddy,” she said and laughed. “Mommy made you stop.”
“Oh? You remember that?” He smiled at her, envying her childhood memories. “Wasn’t it very, very long ago, Sudsy?”
She shook her head.
“Here comes the bus, Daddy,” she cried.
He stepped back with her and held her hand. She’s confusing me with Jason, he thought sadly.
“We’ll go to the zoo,” he promised and watched her get on the bus.
As it pulled away, she waved. He stood there for a moment and then returned to the house to have some breakfast. He wasn’t all that hungry, however, and had just a slice of buttered toast. While he nibbled on it, he stared at the wall and tried to recall more about his immediate past. Why couldn’t he remember Sophie’s birthdays, things like her first steps, her first words, holding her, walking with her? What kind of a father had he been that those kinds of memories still would be lost? How could he have been that detached from his own child? Surely there was nothing painful about his memories of Sophie. He shouldn’t be repressing any of that, he concluded.
The need to know more obsessed him. Instead of heading out for his offices, he went down to the basement and sifted through those cartons that were yet unpacked. He didn’t find any loose pictures, just a single family album and two videos. Not very much for ten years of marriage, he thought. Megan was right about his disinterest in taking pictures, or else there was more that she had put away someplace else. He decided he would start with this at least.
He brought it all upstairs. Sitting in the living room, he thumbed through the album. The first half dozen or so pages were all of Sophie as a baby with an occasional picture of Megan and her. A photograph of Megan and him appeared on a page, but it slipped off because it wasn’t glued. He studied it. Megan looked older and he didn’t look very much different from how he looked now. There were a number of picturesof her brother Jason, and just as she had described, he was seen doing things with a much younger Sophie, especially at the zoo. It made him feel terrible to see the proof of his fatherly neglect.
With my background, losing my parents, anyone would have thought I’d realize the importance of being a good parent, being close to my child. I guess the good doctor would analyze me and say I had some subconscious fear of attachment, of losing someone I loved.
Toward the end of the album, he found a few more pictures of himself and Megan and three pictures of him with Megan and Sophie taken at what looked like the Seaport in lower Manhattan. He couldn’t avoid the verdict. Anyone examining his past through these pictures would easily conclude that family wasn’t as important to him as it should have been. He felt like someone who had woken up from a nightmare to learn it hadn’t been a nightmare after all. It had been real. It amazed him that Megan still loved him as much as she did. At least it helped him understand why she wasn’t as upset as he was about what he had forgotten and how much he had changed.
Now I’m more of the husband she wanted, more of the father Sophie needs, he thought, and with a new baby on the way, that was good. He smiled to himself thinking about the comedyHarvey.In both his case and Elwood P. Dowd’s, the main character, the cure was worse than the illness. Elwood was better off being daft, talking to an imaginary giant rabbit, and he was better off forgetting the man he had been. I should stop going to the doctor entirely, he thought.
He closed the album and then gazed at the videos on the table. I should go to work, he thought. What was the point of all this? It was like rubbing mud in his own face. Nevertheless, his curiosity took hold and he inserted one of the videos i
nto the player. He sat back to watch. The first one was mainly pictures of Sophie from infancy to about three. At least he saw her take what looked like her first steps. He heard Megan’s voice, saw her, but didn’t hear himself or see himself. Where the hell was he when all this was going on? Was he always the one behind the camera? He fast-forwarded to a recent birthday party and heard Megan call to him.
Suddenly a clown appeared. That’s me, he thought and watched the clown’s antics around the table of children. Megan called to him again, and he produced a gift wrapped in a big box. Sophie opened it to discover the nearly life-size doll she had in her room.
“Tell Mr. Clown thank you, Sophie,” Megan called to her.
Sophie smiled up at him and said, “Thank you Mr. Clown Daddy.”
Later in the video he saw Megan’s brother walking with Sophie, holding her hand as she walked her big doll. He waved toward the camera and that video ended.
At least I was prominent at one of her birthdays, he thought, even if I was hiding in a clown’s costume. That’s what I was as a father anyway, a clown.
He inserted the second video. This was a Florida vacation. He recognized Palm Beach. Megan looked terrific in her bikini. Sophie was digging a hole andfilling a pail. He waited for the sound of his voice or the sight of himself. He desperately needed one or the other. Finally he saw himself walking on the beach. The sun was going down. It was a beautiful twilight, and he looked pretty fit. A close-up caught him smiling back at Megan, whom he could hear urging him to take a pose. He pretended to be Mr. America, and he could hear her laugh. Where was Sophie? Why wasn’t he at least walking with her here?
Disgusted with himself, he shut the player off and turned off the television set. This wasn’t helping him. It was making him feel worse. Get back to work, he thought. Follow the program and let the recovery take its own course. He put the album and the videos in his office and headed out.
Amnesia Page 20