Scattered

by Sandra Madera

  * * *

  A few days later, Rebecca hopped out of her father's SUV and looked up at the house she had grown up in, studying the reflection of the sun on the half dozen windows which were dispersed over the front of the house. The white colonial stood in stark contrast to the lush green surroundings of the ten acre property. The six bedroom mansion was hidden amongst the trees, making it impossible for an outsider to see it from the main road. It appeared the same as when she last laid eyes upon it, standing still in time like a monument to her past.

  The house that had once ignited so much happiness in her heart now sparked a sense of dread, and yet, she couldn't understand why. Perhaps it was a stranger to her now like an old friend that had suddenly become distant. The attachment that she had developed over her life had faded away, leaving her with nothing more than a sense of estrangement.

  "Are you ready to go in, darling?" her father asked, getting out of the car and coming to her side.

  She nodded awkwardly, taking her first steps towards the house.

  Hearing two cars pull up the drive, Rebecca hesitated, turning to see Det. Bennette and Dr. Miller arrive. They got out of their vehicles and approached, each wearing a different expression on their face. Slamming his car door and jogging to meet them, Det. Bennette appeared content, obviously believing he could wrap up his case. Glancing at Rebecca with upturned brows, Dr. Miller appeared worried, wearing a frown on his handsome face. It was obvious he didn't know what to expect from this little venture.

  Crossing the threshold, Rebecca glanced inside, taking small steps until she was standing in the center of the foyer. Everything appeared as it did when she lived there which gave her both a sense of comfort and awkwardness. It was like a time capsule... like a photograph taken of a time long ago.

  "Are you alright, Becca?"

  Looking up at her father's concerned eyes, she tried to register his words, and when they did finally hit her brain, she realized that the delay in her response must have sent sirens through his head. "Yes," she nodded, trying to sound confident although she was unsure.

  As Dr. Miller stepped closer to her, he said, "Maybe you should explore, and we will follow you."

  "Can I go to my room?" she asked, turning to her father.

  "Of course," he said, giving her a warm smile.

  Excited, Rebecca ran up the curved staircase and opened the door to the first room on the right. With a large smile, she entered the pink bedroom, walking towards her canopy bed and running her hand along the white comforter. As the others joined her upstairs, she walked over to her vanity, picking up bottles of perfume and bringing them to her nose. She allowed each scent to stir up a cherished memory of her past. She remembered which perfume she wore to her senior dance. Picking up a blue bottle with etched stars, she recalled how she wore that one on her first date with Dane. She closed her eyes and replaced the bottle, unwilling to allow those memories to surface out of fear of getting emotional.

  "Becca, who are those people in the pictures with you?" Det. Bennette asked, pointing towards the pictures that were stuck onto the mirror of my vanity.

  "My friends," she answered, taking the picture off of the mirror and reviewing it. "This was taken the night of my senior prom."

  Motioning at the picture, she tilted the photograph so the detective could get a better view. "This athletic guy is Dane," she said with a slow smile as bittersweet memories of that night filled her head. "Brandon Dane."

  "Where was this taken?"

  "After prom, we went for a walk in the public park outside of the high school. It was taken in the gazebo at the center of the park."

  "And these two?" he asked, pointing to the two blonds in another shot with wide grins.

  Moving her eyes away from Dane's face, she answered, "Those two are my best friends. The one on the right is Danica, and the one on the left is Elizabeth. Elizabeth moved to Chicago sophomore year, but we kept in contact. Danica wrote for the school paper."

  Sharing the same blond hair and brown eyes, Danica and Elizabeth were cousins that were as close as sisters. When they met Rebecca in Elementary School, they had invited her with open arms into their clique and had been inseparable throughout their school years, but like all the others, they had lost touch once she was institutionalized.

  Looking up at the mirror, Rebecca realized the surface was sparse. It had once been framed with pictures of her friends, but the photographs seemed to have been removed. Looking at her confused face in the mirror, she quickly changed her expression, trying to appear as serene as possible. It was important that Dr. Miller see that a change in environment wasn't as traumatic as anticipated.

  "Do you remember something?" the detective questioned, stepping closer.

  "No," Rebecca told him. "Well... this mirror used to be covered in pictures of me and my friends, but now it is relatively empty."

  Det. Bennette arched a brow, obviously taking that to mean something more than Rebecca realized. "Is there a reason for that?"

  "I can account for that," her father said, motioning towards the boxes in the corner of the room that Rebecca overlooked. "You were packing for college, Becca. You must have wanted to take them with you. With the idea of moving to a dorm, you might have packed some mementos to remind you of home."

  The detective nodded, stepping towards the boxes and peeking inside before appearing to lose his interest. "Do you remember the last time you talked to any of your friends?"

  Shrugging her shoulders, Rebecca answered, "I can't really tell you an exact date. Probably at prom or a little after that."

  "She has no real context of time from that time period," Dr. Miller commented, standing with his arms crossed in front of him. "Once she has recovered her memories, perhaps a time frame of events would be easier to piece together."

  Taking out a pad of paper from his blazer, Det. Bennette scribbled some notes. "Do you remember having any disagreements with your friends?"

  "No," she answered honestly.

  "Think really hard, Rebecca," Det. Bennette said, focusing all his attention on her at that point. "Any arguments? Any disagreements among friends?"

  Shaking her head, she answered, "None I can recall."

  Scratching his head, her father said, "Becca always got along with her friends. There were no arguments that I witnessed. Danica visited the day before the accident. Nothing seemed to be amiss."

  "I understand, Dr. Ardsley, but I need to hear that from Rebecca."

  "What is this about?" her father questioned.

  "Teenage angst," Det. Bennette responded, his face void of a readable expression. "Betrayals of trust.... Dating each other's ex boyfriends.... Such things can lead to conflicts. Maybe even murder."

  "Murder?" Rebecca questioned, feeling her heart begin to pound within her chest. "I could never hurt anyone!"

  "No one is saying that you did, but if you have something to confess, I would be willing to hear it," he told her, his annoyance surfacing for the first time.

  "That is enough," her father roared angrily.

  Dr. Miller stepped between the two gentlemen, making his presence known for the first time since the questioning started. "Perhaps it is time for you to leave, Detective."

  "Fine," Det. Bennette agreed, looking past Dr. Miller and narrowing his eyes at Dr. Ardsley. Then he turned on his heel, and looking over his shoulder, he said, "But this is not the end. I have a whole lot more questions to ask."

  Dr. Miller pulled her father aside and began whispering to him in hushed tones. Although she could not make out their words, she could tell Dr. Miller was attempting to calm the situation.

  Before Det. Bennette walked out of the bedroom, Rebecca stood up abruptly from her seat and called out to him. When he paused and turned to look at her, she asked, "What did you mean by 'betrayals of trust'?"

  "Danica's mother said that your brother mistreated her daughter. He apparently dumped her just before prom to
date another local girl named Layla," he answered, his eyes scanning her. "Your relationship apparently became strained after you became friends with the girl."

  "Do you hear him?" her father asked Dr. Miller, appearing increasingly frustrated. "Now my son is a suspect."

  Suddenly perplexed, Rebecca asked, "Where is Danica, Det. Bennette? How come she was not able to answer your questions?"

  "No, Rebecca," Dr. Miller warned, appearing worried by the direction of the whole conversation. "This is not natural recollection."

  Ignoring him, she stared at the detective questioningly.

  "Danica Duncan is dead," he answered, his brown eyes boring into hers. "She died the night you lost your memory. Convenient, isn't it?"

  "Get out!" her father screamed, blocking her from the detective's penetrating gaze. "Get out of my house!"

  Placing a hand on her chest, she suddenly felt like she couldn't breathe. Using her accessory muscles, her breath came out in jagged gasps as tears streamed down her face. With her limbs shaking uncontrollably, she found it hard to keep her balance and collapsed back into her seat. Knowing that this was not the appropriate reaction if she wanted to remain free, she couldn't force herself to hide the raw emotion that seeped from her pores. Her best friend was dead, and somehow she was the key to what really happened.

  Although she was in mourning and her thoughts were somewhat confused, Rebecca knew better than to isolate herself at such a time. To confine herself to her room would be seen as a relapse, and she feared the decision would be made to reinstate her.

  After a short while in her own company, she decided to rejoin Dr. Miller and her father downstairs. Entering the kitchen, she was met with delicious scents that made her stomach cry out in hunger. Being almost dinner time, her father began cooking his famous tortellini and broccoli alfredo with homemade bread and a salad.

  Feeling a growing sense of warmth in her, she was reminded of how it was before her life was destroyed by tragedy. The familiarity of it all was comforting. She tried to pretend nothing had happened over the past year, but there was a key piece of the puzzle missing. "Dad, where is Mom and Taylor?"

  "They will be home soon," her father answered. "Your mom went to pick up Taylor from his dorm. He wanted to be here for your return. It is good timing because he has a short vacation from school. She also said something about wanting to pick you up a few things she thought you might need."

  As her father gathered up plates from the cabinets, he asked her to set the table. Taking the dishes from him, she set the table for three as Dr. Miller gathered two wine glasses.

  Taking his seat, Dr. Miller removed his blazer and unbuttoned the top of his shirt in an attempt to unwind. He poured Dr. Ardsley and himself a glass of red wine while her father brought the food to the table.

  "You are not supposed to drink while on the job, Dr. Miller," Rebecca teased.

  He laughed. "I am not on call, Ms. Ardsley," he replied. "Soon my services won't be needed here, and my visits will just be for pleasure."

  Smiling brightly, she nodded in agreement, knowing he was referring to her complete recovery.

  Sitting across the table, Rebecca glanced at Dr. Miller, noticing he looked younger when he was in a more relaxed atmosphere. Running his fingers through his brown hair, it became slightly tousled, resembling the wayward curls of a child. He traded jokes back and forth with her father like an old friend, but Dr. Miller was actually closer to her age.

  As Rebecca dove into her tortellini, she asked, "How long have you known my father, Dr. Miller?"

  Taking a sip of his wine, he contemplated. "Since I was nineteen which was about six years ago. I interned for years at Brookshire before graduating."

  Her father nodded. "He is a bona fide genius, graduating high school and entering into college while in his early teens."

  Dr. Miller averted his eyes as if embarrassed by the compliment. "My father took my education seriously."

  "Nathaniel's father was a great friend and a brilliant psychiatrist. His writings on interpersonal relationships are practically scripture in our field."

  "Thank you, Adam," he said, his face taking on a melancholy expression.

  "What happened to your father?" Rebecca asked, suddenly curious. "Does he still practice?"

  Taken aback by the question, Dr. Miller hesitated. "No," he replied somberly. "He died in a house fire last year."

  Averting her eyes, Rebecca felt a horrible sinking feeling rise in the pit of her stomach. "I am sorry," she told him sincerely.

  Appearing lost in his thoughts, Dr. Miller nodded solemnly but didn't utter a word.

  Although her father quickly changed the subject, she hesitated to enter into conversation, eating the rest of her meal in relative silence.

  A short while later, Rebecca heard a commotion in the front hall.

  Her father motioned for her to go to the foyer as he collected the dishes. "That should be your mother."

  Suddenly feeling unsure, Rebecca glanced at Dr. Miller. Her heart began to beat in her chest erratically with thoughts about how she would be received. Would her mother act uncomfortable in her presence? Would she greet her with open arms? Would Taylor act as he always did? Or would he be cold and withdrawn?

  Dr. Miller remained seated, pouring himself another glass of wine. "It's okay," he whispered to her reassuringly, obviously reading the anxiety on her face. "They're your family. They only want what is best for you."

  She nodded, getting up from her seat and slowly walking into the foyer. Watching her mother drop a dozen shopping bags on the floor, she paused in place until she was noticed. With an awkward smile, she greeted, "Hi, Mom."

  Mrs. Ardsley's appearance hadn't changed a bit since Rebecca saw her last. She was a small woman, standing at just about five feet four inches and weighing no more than a hundred pounds. She shared Rebecca's fair skin and thick, wavy tresses. She appeared to be the epitome of elegance with her long brown hair which was swept up in her usual French twist. Taking pride in her appearance, she wore a gray pencil skirt and white silk blouse with matching gray pumps. Her mother gasped and ran to Rebecca, embracing her tightly. "I missed you so much."

  Rebecca held onto her mother, finding it comforting to breathe in her sweet perfume. "I missed you, too."

  After a long moment, her mother stepped aside. "Look at all the things I bought for you," her mom told her, motioning towards the shopping bags. "I thought you could use some new clothes."

  Peeking into the shopping bags, Rebecca noticed cashmere sweaters and silk blouses. These clothes weren't exactly catered to her casual style, but she knew it was her mother's way of starting fresh. "They are lovely," she told her.

  "Taylor, come say 'hi' to your sister," her mother ordered, calling into the living room.

  Her brother walked out of the living room. With a smile, he hugged her warmly. "How are you doing, Becca?" he asked as he pulled away.

  "Fine," she replied, finally feeling at home in her own house. "It is a little weird to be back, but it is still home."

  "Of course it is," her mother interjected, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and giving her a squeeze.

  Her brother nodded.

  "Hi, Becca," a voice greeted, bringing her attention back towards the living room.

  Rebecca looked to see Dane had been sitting on the couch, appearing at home as he sat with one leg draped over the other. His deep brown eyes were focused on her. Behind his stare, she could read a number of mixed emotions. The one which stood out the most was sadness. Perhaps he wondered if she still felt the same for him. He pushed his brown hair away from his kind face nervously.

  Wearing a black sweater and dark blue jeans, Dane looked more mature than his letterman-jacket high school days. He stood up, walking into the foyer and embracing her.

  Rebecca pulled away clumsily. "Dane, how are you?"

  "Brandon goes to school with Taylor. When he heard you
were coming back home, he insisted on seeing you," her mother said pleasantly.

  Shifting from one foot to another, Rebecca felt a little odd seeing Dane again. She was confused about their current situation. Were they broken up? Were they still dating? So much had happened since she had seen him last that she wasn't sure she still had feelings for him. "Wow, I did not expect to see you," she told him, still surprised by his appearance.

  Suddenly, her mother tapped Taylor on the shoulder. "Come on, darling. Let us go find your father."

  Rebecca knew her mother wanted to give her time to talk to Dane alone. Watching her mother and brother walk away, she wanted to call out to them not to leave her, feeling slightly uneasy with the idea of being alone with Dane.

  "Well, let's sit," she said, ushering Dane into the living room and taking a seat on the plush floral couch.

  Sitting next to her, Dane shifted his position so that he was facing her and his left arm rested on the back of the sofa. "I wanted to visit you, but your father said it was best for your recovery if we all allowed you to digest what happened at your own pace."

  Rebecca nodded. "My father just wanted me to avoid people's questions. To be honest, I don't remember much of anything about the night they found me in the woods. I was pretty much in shock."

  Dane nodded slowly in apparent understanding. "I hope you were receiving adequate care."

  "Oh, my dad and Dr. Miller were an integral part of my care," she said, folding her hands on her lap. "I am not completely recovered until I can come to terms with what I witnessed, but the outpatient therapy should help."

  "Your father and Dr. Miller?" he questioned, raising an eyebrow and holding his hands up as if expecting her to pause her words.

  "Yes," she replied, curious.

  "Isn't that a huge conflict of interest? I mean your dad treating you... and then there is Dr. Miller."

  "My dad oversaw everything. It was Dr. Miller who administered care," she explained, feeling the need to defend her father. "It wasn't as if I was institutionalized by the authorities. My father instated me. I was not... myself. To be honest, I hardly remember that period of my life."

  Dane's brown eyes narrowed. "Still, Dr. Miller has no business treating you."

  "Why do you think that?" she inquired, leaning forward in her seat.

  "Because it is a huge conflict of interest. Dr. Miller was... Layla's brother."

  Digging deep in her memory, Rebecca shook her head. She didn't remember anything about Layla. After having her breakdown, remembering her past became increasingly difficult like looking at the road through a dense fog. Parts of her past were lost. Parts, which included Layla, had fallen through the cracks and would possibly never be recovered.

  "Layla Miller, remember?" he asked without waiting for her to respond. "His sister was your brother's girlfriend. The one that died in that house fire about a year and a half ago. Your brother was once suspected of starting that fire. I don't know about that now, but it seems weird that he would be appointed to administer your treatment when he is so invested in finding out what happened to his family. Maybe he thinks you can shed light on what happened."

  Rebecca shook her head. "I don't see how I could," she replied, placing a hand on her temple. "To be honest, I don't understand the connection between any of this. I still really don't know what happened, and I am just so confused."

  Dane gazed deeply into her eyes as if trying to find something within them. "It is a lot to digest," he said, shaking his head. "I am sorry I brought it up."

  Standing on his feet, he apologized once more before saying his goodbyes.

  She stood up to hug him, but he shriveled under her touch as if uncomfortable by their closeness. Feeling out of sorts by the visit, she watched as he stepped away from her, feeling somewhat relieved for the reunion to be over. He brought up things that had her head reeling, and she welcomed the idea of being alone for a while.

  Dane waved at her awkwardly and walked out the front door without another word.