Chapter 3

Chapter Three

 

            I return to the kitchen, where I was reading the newspaper. I had only gotten through two panels of Garfield before Peter knocked on my door.

            I’m still annoyed, but reading the news calms me down. I like to think that in twenty years, I will still be able to recite today’s front page story word-for-word. I remember one time, on October 7^th of 2009, they did a front page story on me and my hyperthymesia. Asked me a bunch of questions about dates and presidents and other nonsense. Ha! I’ll show Peter that front-page headline. Proof that I’ve got the ability to remember everything. Who’s he to say I can’t remember my own son?

            Grasping just how angry I am, I calm down by counting to ten. I read the punchline of the comic, but I’m in no mood to laugh.

            After reading the news six-and-a-half times over, I decide it’s time to clean up the glass on the porch. The broom and I sweep it up, but I’m careful not to step on any more glass; my slippers are ruined enough.

            With a sigh, I collapse into the chair and think about how hectic today’s been " and it’s only ten in the morning! I’ve had enough excitement to last me a lifetime.

            But it’s clear the excitement’s not over yet. I look with dismay at the journal Peter left here. There’s a dragon imprinted onto the leather covering, as well a leather bookmark attached to the binding. It’s very old, from way back in Damian’s high school years. Very familiar, as well.

            I think back to when Damian had made a leather journal in class. It was to be a father’s day present for his dad. Unfortunately, his father died in a car accident the day before father’s day. He was driving on the same road as an out-of-control eighteen-wheeler.

            Damian never wrote in that journal. He treasured it with his life. The pages should’ve been blank. Unless….this isn’t his journal! Couldn’t I be arrested or something for reading it, since it isn’t mine or my husband’s? But I’d probably have to track down Peter for anything like that to happen. If anyone’s going to go chase a delusional man, it sure as heck ain’t gonna be me. It might be better to just throw the journal away and forget this ever happened.

            No matter how much I wanted to forget it, I couldn’t. Even if I didn’t have hyperthymesia, I would ask myself day after day, ‘What would have happened?’

            There was only one way to know for sure. I reached out and flipped open the cover.

            So what if it isn’t Damian’s journal? Or, better yet….What if it is?

Author's Note

Sorry I haven't posted chapters in a while; my computer crashed and everything I'd typed up on this was gone. I ended up re-typing the whole thing from my journal, and so here's the new chapter.
Also, I entered this into a contest that had a 4-chapter limit; If they consider Pt. 2 of Chapter 2 a seperate chapter, I could get disqualified. Oh well.

Reviews

[Tai Ryens]

So many questions that arise in my head, great job on this one!