Shattered Memories

by Susan Harris

  I laughed; I couldn’t help it because one look at me would tell just about anyone I was not built for physical activity. She looked at me as if I had gone mad. Then, after raking her eyes from head to toes, she studied me again and smiled.

  “I’m sorry to interrupt your workout. I just couldn’t help myself.”

  She raised a quizzical eyebrow, her lips quirked up into a half smile. “So do you find yourself staring at young girls due to your lack of impulse control a lot? Because there is a law against that, dontcha know?”

  I smiled and replied, holding up a battered text of Gross: The Science of Mind and Behaviour. “Would you believe me if I said it was all for research?”

  Alana reached out and took the worn textbook in her hands. She examined it, reading the back cover in full; I watched her eyes darting from side to side as she read. Handing the book back to me, her face changed and the tough exterior seemed to drop, if only an inch.

  “So does that mean you weren’t checking me out? ’Cause I hate to admit it, but I’d be a bit disappointed.”

  I must have looked completely shocked as she laughed… the sound a symphony in my ears. Damn. She was beautiful but was she pulling my leg?

  “It’s okay Romeo. It was a joke… I know I’m a social pariah considering who my dad is.”

  I cleared my throat. “I don’t even know your name, so how can I know who your father is? And I’m certain that you were messing with me—I mean what beautiful girl wants to go out with the geek?”

  She studied me again, and something crossed her mind because she leaned in. With her fingertip, she pushed my glasses up my nose. Alana pulled back and smiled. “Did anyone ever tell you some girls find geeks sexy?”

  “I haven’t met any yet.”

  Her smile grew, and she brushed an unruly curl from her face. Holding out her unbandaged left hand, she tilted her head and said, “Hi, I’m Alana McCarthy.”

  I took her hand and shook it. “Daniel Costello.”

  “Well, Daniel, are you going to ask me to get a coffee or what, so I don’t think you’re stalking me?”

  “Are you always this forward?” I grinned.

  “Take me out for coffee and you’ll see.” She bounced back down the stairs before turning around to look up at me. “Meet me outside campus at five, okay?”

  I dumbly nodded and turned to go, the shock of it leaving me lost for words. Gathering my books, without another word, I started out of the room.

  “And Daniel…”

  Spinning around one more time, I saw her re-wrap tape around her wrist. She wasn’t looking at me, but her voice carried across the room. “Keep the glasses. I like the glasses. Makes your eyes look bluer.”

  My answering smile was involuntary as Alana went back to punching the bag, and I walked to the library unable to think of anything but our date. At the time, I was certain she wouldn’t show up, and it was all a joke. So you can imagine my amazement when she did come. Beautiful, even dressed in ripped jeans and a teal blouse, she linked herself to my arm and bombarded me with a hundred and one questions about my life.

  It made no difference to me that she was seventeen and I was almost twenty-one. From day one, I knew this firecracker was the one for me and no one would ever compare.

  Sometimes life isn’t fair, but the girl I was head over heels in love with didn’t remember me… and that cut down to the bone. It had taken me four months to convince the Grand Masters at the training centre that I had changed my mind. I told them I wanted to do some research on memory loss and trauma before I took my place in the behavioural science department. Who could disagree with a student who had more qualifications than all of them combined? So I had arrived at the facility two months ago and was assigned Alana’s case. It took every bit of self-control not to shake Theresa when she laid out Alana’s crimes and told me how dangerous she was.

  All lies. I was certain of that, at least. One theory was that Alana was pretending not to remember in order to use that as part of her defence. But in a judicial system so flawed that she would have no trial, no chance to tell her story, what would be the point?

  “You fall asleep on me, Doc?” Her voice slammed me back to reality, a reality I’d rather ignore.

  “Of course not, Alana. I am just, as usual, giving you the space to open up.”

  “It’s hard to open up, Doc, when you lost a year of your life.”

  “And how does that make you feel?”

  “How do you think it feels?”

  “Why do you always deflect from talking about your feelings?”

  Alana blew out a frustrated breath, her jaw ticking slightly as she tried to rein in her short temper. I bit the inside of my mouth to stop from smiling as Alana pursed her lips.

  “Why do you always answer a question with a question?”

  “Does that make you angry?”

  “No. It makes me think you get some sick, perverted pleasure out of trying to piss me off.”

  “And does that annoy you?” Inside I was trying my hardest not to laugh as she daggered me with her stare.

  “Nope. Just messing with you, Doc.” She sighed, a deep sound as if she has just remembered where she was.

  “You can call me Daniel, Alana.”

  She snorted and tilted her head to the side.

  “And how does that make you feel, Doc?” A faint hint of amusement lightened her tone.

  “Touché,” I said as she placed her feet on the ground and strolled around my office. Every time I broached the subject of the night our lives changed forever, she balked, using her wit to disguise whatever she was feeling. Most days it took every ounce of strength not to go to her, take her in my arms and reassure her that everything would be okay.

  “So how are you feeling today, Alana?”

  At first, she didn’t answer as she continued to walk around my office, touching the framed diplomas, taking her time to examine each title on my bookcase. When she came full circle, returning to the armchair, she sat and folded her legs underneath, sitting on her feet again.

  “I still haven’t remembered anything, if that’s your roundabout way of asking.”

  I shook my head side to side. “That was not my question, Alana.”

  Shrugging, she turned her face away from me while I used what little time we had left in the session to take in her profile. Her long lashes cloaked her eyes as she let them drift shut. Alana’s nose crinkled and her brow narrowed. I could see she was thinking hard, concentrating, as if by doing so her memories would miraculously reappear. We’d worked together for two months to build up our trust, and I planned to work to save her until she took her very last breath.

  “I try and get a sharper picture of that night but can’t. It’s as though the edges are foggy, and I can’t piece together what’s real and what isn’t. There is so much blood but no noise apart from my sobs. Why would I be crying if I killed them? See? This just doesn’t make sense.”

  Removing my glasses, I folded them and set them on the desk in front of me, rubbing my tired eyes. “When someone is affected by a traumatic incident, sometimes the mind, in order to protect the host, blocks out certain memories that could be traumatic if returned all at once.”

  “No offence meant, Doc, but it’s not as if I have time to waste.”

  Her sharp, clipped and defensive tone proved that she wanted and needed to remember. It also made my stomach summersault while I was yet again reminded of the deadline. I could not continue being gentle about things if I expected her to get her memories back. Part of me was still uncertain if those recollections hadn’t been somehow taken from her. Who knew what scientific programs were available in this society? Behaviour chips were a perfect example.

  I didn’t reply to her comment, simply out of fear that if I tried, my voice would crack, betraying emotions a stranger should not have towards his patient. The weather outside darkened to match our moods, the clouds greying as rain began to dance on the window.

  “Do you thin
k I’ll get to go outside before I die? Is there some sort of dying wish thing or something? I mean… if I don’t get to live… that’s the least they could do, right?”

  A note of sadness tainted her voice and even though she focused on me, I saw a fleeting look of hope in her eyes before it disappeared. I couldn’t answer, simply waited for her to open up.

  “Can you see if that’s possible? Would you mind asking if I can go outside once before I die? Please, Daniel. It’s all I will ever ask for.”

  On any other day, the sound of my name on her lips would have created imaginary symphonies in my ears. But the desperation in her voice opened a way to delve deeper into our therapy, and I had to take it.

  “I will try my hardest, Alana, but you have to give me something to show them that you are responding to our sessions. They require me to file reports, and if I do not show them your willingness to remember, I cannot guarantee you outside time, even for a few minutes.”

  “Then tell me how to remember.”

  I shook my head. “If it were that easy, Alana, I would have told you weeks ago. What I want you to do tonight, just before you go to sleep, is lie down on your bed, close your eyes and clear your mind. Do not try and force yourself to remember, just let your eyes remain shut and count down from one hundred until you fall asleep. Once your mind is clear and you are somewhat relaxed, it may trigger your subconscious into dreaming.”

  Alana contemplated my suggestion for a moment before nodding. “I’ll give it a try.”

  “That’s my girl.” I tried not revealing how horrified I was as those words slipped past my lips, but the little blunder seemed to float over her head.

  Almost instantly, she returned to staring out the window, watching as the rain got heavier, concentrating as thunder rumbled in the distance. We remained in the comfortable silence until a light rap sounded on the glass panel door. Two hours was not enough time to spend with her, and I craved more. But asking for more time with one patient would only put eyes on me that I needed to keep looking in other directions.

  The door slid open and Alana’s escort, Connors, stood in the doorway. Exhaling sharply, she straightened herself and headed for the door. I exchanged a brief nod with Connors, who winked at me over Alana’s head. I trusted him to watch out for her as we had done for each other as children. He knew my secret.

  My friend disappeared from view as Alana hesitated in the doorway. I pretended not to notice, returning the glasses to the bridge of my nose and chewing my pen as if mulling over today’s session. Connors’ voice rang out in the quiet.

  “Come on, McCarthy. And here I was hoping you would keep me amused on the way back.”

  She tried to stifle a grin, but Connors could drag a smile from the most downtrodden person. I opened my notebook, scrutinizing the blank page as Alana crossed the threshold.

  “Daniel?”

  “Yes, Alana,” I said without looking up from the page.

  “Don’t ever get rid of your glasses, they make your eyes seem bluer.”

  As my breath hitched in my chest, I stared at her as she disappeared from view, listening while she bantered softly with Connors until their voices were nothing more than an echo in the hallway. A million different questions raced through my mind, hoping, praying even, that this was it—the start of her memories coming back. But hope was a commodity, a luxury I couldn’t count on having for long.

  Dropping the pen on the notebook, I leaned my head back into the chair. A headache was brewing, the weight of carrying this secret heavy in my heart, the pressure of trying to find a way out of this mess evading me.

  Startled out of my personal thoughts, the office door slid open again and Connors entered the room. After closing it behind him, he slumped down on the couch and draped his limbs out over the arms of the chair. Flashing me a mega-watt grin, he folded his arms behind his head and leaned back.

  “Your girl is safe and sound back in her room.”

  “Thanks. I appreciate you looking after her, but do you have to flirt so much with her?”

  “Gotta keep you on your toes, Danny-boy.” He chuckled, always easy to laugh when I was so serious. “You know I’m only trying to be her friend, give her someone to go to.”

  I chose not to answer him because he knew I understood, even if their banter irked me. My silence forced him to become more serious. Still in his relaxed position, he asked me the question I couldn’t answer… not yet.

  “What if she doesn’t remember, Danny-boy? What we going to do then?”

  I contemplated that question for a long time, well into the evening after Connors had returned to his duties. The situation was frustrating because I really didn’t have a plan if Alana didn’t start to remember. All I could do was count the hours until I saw her again. Each meeting allowed me to breathe in the very essence of her, those eyes, her smile, that inner strength. It made me a better man. I would do everything in my power to set her free. That was an undisputed fact.

  Before I left my office for the night, I pulled a key from around my neck and unlocked the desk drawer. Removing a wooden frame, I set it on top of the desk and stared at the photo of Alana and me. We were smiling, happy, my arms wrapped around her waist as I kissed her neck. She had turned and laughed up at the photographer. It was the last photo we had taken together before she had left the centre to return home to see her family.

  We appeared so happy, so in love. It seemed beyond strange that the couple in the photo could be the girl who didn’t remember me and the boy who had manipulated his way into a position here to be with her. I focused on the picture for the longest time before grudgingly returning it to the drawer where I closed it and turned the key, locking away my happiness until next time.

  The key was safely back around my neck, the cold of the metal stinging my bare skin beneath my shirt. I turned out the desk light and rolled my chair away from the desk. At that moment, I wished that I could take the photo back to my room. Of course, it wasn’t possible in this place with eyes everywhere. The locked drawer was the safest place for it. Instead, I pressed the button to turn off the main light and let the darkness engulf the room.

  Outside, I keyed in my personal code, sealing the room so only I could enter. Another day might lead to fresh hope, but as I trudged away from my office and that photo, all hope faded. My happiness was locked in a drawer next to a velveteen box that I couldn’t force myself to look at.

  5

  Alana

  “And these walls surround us, always black and grey I see

  And we found this time, on our weakness it will feed.”

  (You me at six: The swarm)

  The air was crisp, almost cutting with every breath I took, the wind whipping against my skin, but I didn’t care. The smell of freshly cut grass tickled my nostrils as I blinked and put a hand on my forehead to protect myself from the sun as it peeked out from behind the clouds. Squeals of pure childish pleasure pulled me back to myself while I turned and held out my arms towards my baby sister. Sophia ran full speed and almost jumped into my outstretched arms.

  Light where I was dark, Sophia’s dirty blonde hair was gathered in one plaited mess that bobbed from side to side as she ran. Her blue eyes took in everything as she gripped me into a tight hug. Despite the age gap, seven years, we were as close as sisters could be. It was my last week at home before I left to take up my place on the course to become a retrieval officer, and I would miss my little ray of sunshine every day.

  Kissing the top of her forehead, I put her back down on her feet. She danced away from me with a reckless abandonment that only a child could have. Sophia twisted and twirled in our back garden. I admired the way she took everything on the chin, from the teasing because of our father’s position… to her sadness at having her sister leave for a six-month period for training. She was truly the light to my dark. Where I was always a glass half empty type of girl, my beautiful sister did not share that pessimism.

  I drank in the sight of her as she ski
pped over to the swing set. It was one I had helped my father restore on a rare weekend when he did not get interrupted by a phone call requiring his immediate attention at the prison. My dad and I had spent that wonderful sun-soaked weekend, sanding the frame in the early morning. Later, we treated the metal and repainted it before fixing brand-new chains and attaching hand-carved wooden seats. I remember my fingers had bled and my bones were weary after the weekend, but it had been the most uninterrupted time I had spent with my father in a long time. It was bliss.

  “Push me on the swing, Na-Na!” Sophia called as I laughed at my nickname. It stemmed back to when Sophia first learned to talk and couldn’t get her tongue around Alana. From then on, I became Na-Na.

  Rolling up the sleeves of my jumper, I wrapped my fingers around the cold, metal chains and pushed. Sophia burst into fits of childish giggles. With gentle pushes to the small of her back, Sophia asked to go higher and higher but only laughed harder when I denied her wishes. Even at that age, I was conscious of the fact that she had inherited my lack of height and even though she was almost nine, she appeared much younger.

  As I listened to Sophia’s laughter cut through the air, neither of us cared that the sun had disappeared behind the clouds, and the wind had kicked up harsher as it bit the skin on our faces. I caught my mother watching us from the kitchen window, wiping a stray tear from her eye. Sophia was her double. From her looks to her mannerisms, my mother had remarked more than once that I was too much like my father and she could not decide if that was a good or a bad thing. When she caught me staring at her, she waved me off but not before tapping her antique watch and disappearing from view.

  Feeling the tip of my nose going numb from the cold, I pulled Sophia to a stop. She puckered her lip in a mock pout, and I laughed, inclining my head towards the back door of our house. Sophia bounced forward before halting on the back steps and plonking her butt down on the cold ground. Joining her, I hugged my knees to my chest, partially from the cold and partially from the sadness at having to leave her for so long.