Chapter Four: Last Memories, Lost Memories

 

            I’m sitting in Ms. Rogers’ office again. Should I tell her about those skeleton people I saw? I doubt this, but she might know something about it. I could get my questions answered and maybe get this whole thing cleared up. I’m really hoping that it’s just a big misunderstanding or a practical joke or…something! I really don’t know, and I’m utterly freaked out. Then again, Ms. Rogers might just think my progress is suddenly going downhill. She’ll get all paranoid and suspicious, and I’ll have to see her on the weekends again. Ugh. She’ll probably think I was under the influence of drugs or something alcoholic, which is absolutely untrue.

            I think it’s best if I don’t tell her.

            Ms. Rogers comes in the room, this time wearing a cherry red suit. It looks exactly like the suit she wore yesterday, only the color is different.

            “Hello, Miss Kirk,” she says, sitting down in the chair behind her desk. “How was your day?”

            “It was okay. Normal. Every day is normal, I guess.” Well, not anymore. Ever since sixth period today, I’m convinced that my life will never regain its semi-boring qualities. I have a feeling that things are about to get really interesting any day now.

            Ms. Rogers pulls out that dumb notepad and pen and starts to quickly scribble something on an empty page. I’m really wondering what she’s writing in that thing about me.

            I place my hands in my lap, cross my legs, and look up at Ms. Rogers with this stupid, closed-mouth smile on my face. She got mad at me for sitting some random way once, so she makes me sit like this whenever I come in her office. Although, I’m used to doing that when coming in here anyway, so she doesn’t have to instruct me in that anymore.

            After adjusting the brooch on her suit, she looks at me with concern in her eyes. “Shawna,” she says. “I received word that you went to the nurse today because you fainted. Is there something you need to tell me?”

            What’s that supposed to mean?  Is fainting a sign of something I shouldn’t be involved in? Ugh, if I don’t tell her what’s going on, she’ll force it out of me. And I can’t lie, because she’s like that guy from ‘Lie to Me’ who can tell exactly when you’re lying.

            “Look, it’s not what you’re thinking. I promise that it’s not!” I really don’t even know what she’s thinking, but whatever it is, I’m sure it’s not good. Then again, neither is the thing that actually happened.

            She leans in closer, probably bracing herself for my response.

            “I know you’re not going to believe me when I say this, but…”

            “Yes? What is it? You know you can tell me anything. Whatever is going on will not get you into any trouble. I can promise you that. I will protect you from court, if that’s the case. You’re a good kid, Miss Kirk,” she says.

            I nod my understanding. “As you know, I fainted. Well, right before, I felt like someone’s eyes were peering into my back. And so, I turned around and…”

            I recount my short little tale about my encounter with the talking skeletons. As I explain what happened, the look on her face changes from extreme concern to a little angry to disbelief and, lastly, to utter confusion.

            “…And then I woke up to find everyone in class hovering over me. The end,” I conclude.

            “Well…” Ms. Rogers begins. “I don’t really know what to say. I mean, that is very unbelievable, but I don’t think you’re lying. You’ve gained my trust thus far, and I still want to believe what you say. And yet…I don’t know.”

            “I’m sorry for confusing you, but this is what happened. No lies. I promise you that. I’m on edge about this, too, but it happened. It happened, really.”

            Ms. Rogers sighs heavily. “I know this goes against my philosophies and rules as a guidance counselor, but how about we forget about all of this for the time being? We can just go on about our daily sessions. We’ll have to look further into this another time. Alright?”

            “Okay,” I say. And then, “Thank you for trying to understand and not jumping to conclusions.”

            “You’re welcome,” she replies, smiling kindly for once. I think this is the first time that she’s shown some kind of real compassion, instead of her robot mentalities. “How was your visit with Roy yesterday?”

            “I’m starting to like the kid—um, Roy.” I then tell her about Mel.

            “Interesting…” So much for being human, Ms. Rogers.

            She continues to ask me the same old questions for the rest of the hour. Finally, the session timer goes off. Yes! I’m done with this for today!

            “Have a nice day, Miss Kirk. And remember, smile,” she says—again.

            I grab my stuff. “You t—”

            ‘I think you’re crazy…’ the song “Crazy” by Gnarls Barkley plays out of nowhere. I stifle a scream, because I get scared so freaking easily.

            Ms. Rogers leans over then sits back up with a cell phone in her hand. She giggles. “Sorry, that’s my phone.” What the heck? I think Ms. Rogers aspired to become a therapist, but didn’t quite make it.

            She looks at her cell phone screen, smiles brightly, looks up at me in an apologetic way, springs up from her chair, and power walks out of the room all in three seconds flat. Uh…what just happened here? Oh, well.

            “Bye?” I say after her. She doesn’t respond. Whatever.

            Hey…I can go see what she’s written about me! I rush over to her desk and surreptitiously pick up the notepad. I hold it to my chest, saying, “This thing holds all the compiled information on my abnormal state as a teenager. Awesome…” I waste no more time.

            What…? What is this!? Every single page has the date, session number, and only one sentence. It’s either “Shawna Kirk is progressing nicely” or “Shawna Kirk’s progression has declined.” But, but…Ms. Rogers is constantly jotting things down. Either she’s a really slow writer or something up. What’s she been writing this whole time?

            As I flip through more pages, something falls from the notepad and onto the floor. Hmm, what’s this?

            I bend over and pick up the fallen item. I examine it more closely. It’s another notebook, only this one is smaller. The one that has my “daily progress” in it is one of those giant yellow notepads. This one is a little booklet. I open it to the first page to find the name “Jackie” written on it. Oh, Ms. Jackie Rogers. Right. I turn to the next page. It’s a drawing of a rose. The rest of the pages either have actual drawings or just random doodles. Wow, that’s unexpected. Ms. Rogers is an amazing artist. And maybe a career as a therapist was unachieved because someone hasn’t been taking her notes.

            “I thought you would’ve left by now, Miss Kirk. Aren’t you going to be late for your tutoring session?”

            I drop the notebooks onto the floor immediately and turn to see Ms. Rogers standing in the doorway. I can’t tell if she’s angry or not.

            “You don’t want to be late, right?” she asks. Is she only pretending not to notice my nosiness?

            I leave the room quickly and without another word.

No sun☼shine here

            “Billie Jean is not my lover. She’s just a girl who claims that I am the one, but the kid is not my son!” I can hear Mr. Waters singing before I even get to his classroom. Why he’s singing Michael Jackson songs, I will probably never know.

            I walk inside the room to find him moonwalk-ing around and singing into a whiteboard marker in place of a microphone.

            “H-hello? Sorry I’m late,” I say, smiling meekly.

            Mr. Waters stops abruptly. “Oh, gosh. Sorry, I didn’t notice you coming in.” He places the makeshift microphone on his desk.

            I sit down at a random desk and he pulls a chair up to the front of the desk.

            “I didn’t know you could moonwalk,” I say, taking out my history book.

            “Yeah. I thought that you would have known that.”

No sun☼shine here

            “I’m here,” I say, closing the door to room 600 behind me.

            “Hello, Shawna,” says Mr. Delaney.

            I put my stuff down on the window seat.

            Roy’s in the hospital bed as usual, but Mr. and Mrs. Delaney are here today with three others. The new editions are all apparently the other children of the Delaney family. They’re all boys with brown hair—from their father—and brown eyes—from their mother. Two of them look about five and three.  Mr. Delaney is holding the other son, who is just a baby.

            Roy is awake and aware of his surroundings, so Mrs. Delaney appears to be in a stable condition. “Hello, Shawna,” she says. “These are our other sons: Oliver, Wesley, and Dan.” She said their names in order of age. So Roy’s the oldest. Weird, though. He seems like an only child type of person. Maybe that’s because this is the first I’ve heard of them.

            “We were just about to leave,” Mrs. Delaney says again. “It was nice seeing you, Shawna.”

            But, I just got here. Oh, well. The Delaney family leaves after saying their goodbyes to Roy.

            “So, those are your brothers, huh?” I ask, sitting down beside my stuff.

            “Yeah…” Roy says. He looks really sad.

            “What’s wrong?” I ask.

            “Mommy and Daddy like them better than they like me.”

            “I don’t think that’s true,” I say. I know some parents are stupid and like to pick favorites, but Roy’s parents don’t seem like that type.

            “Well, it is true. They’d rather spend their time with them, instead of me. They stopped coming after Dan was born. They…they’re trying to forget about me all together, even before I die!”

            I guess Roy found out that he was going to die soon. I don’t know what to say.

            “They told me today that I’m going to die. My body is trying to replace the cardiac muscle of my heart with smooth muscle. My body is both defending and attacking itself. It’s like a war is being waged at my heart. The doctors don’t know why this is happening, but it is. My heart beats faster and faster as the cardiac muscle fights to overcome the smooth muscle. If the cardiac muscle wins a battle, my heart rate goes back to normal. If the smooth muscle wins a battle, then my heart rate gets too low. There aren’t enough mitochondria in the smooth muscle to perform the actions that the cardiac muscle does. All of this screws up the functions of my heart, which, in turn, messes up blood flow. That’s why I cough. And sometimes, the blood doesn’t get to my lungs in time, so I can’t breathe.”

            That is really complicated. I’m glad I remember seventh grade science, or this wouldn’t make any sense to me. “That…that sucks.” I don’t know what else to say.

            “Yeah. And when the smooth muscle completely replaces the cardiac muscle, I’ll die. It’s only a matter of time. Mommy and Daddy don’t even care. Can’t you tell!? I know Mommy really well. She’d be crying her eyes out, but she’s not!”

            “Look, Roy. Your parents are acting that way because they don’t want you to feel bad and think that they aren’t worried sick about you!”

            “That’s a lie!”

            “No, it’s not! When I first came to visit you, your mom opened the door for me. Her eyes were so red from crying so hard. She kept stuttering, and she couldn’t even say your one-syllable name because she burst into tears!” I realize that we’re both screaming. The heart rate monitor beeps faster, too, and Roy’s crying now.

            “I didn’t know,” he says, through tears. “Don’t yell at me. What did I do to deserve any of this?”

            I calm down. “Roy, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean—”

            Roy’s tears stop trickling down his face. He’s calm now, as well. “If I tell you what I did to deserve this, will you promise not to tell anyone?”

            What? “Uh, yeah. I promise.”

            “Yesterday…I told you about Mel and the necklace. She never stopped wearing that necklace. She said that it reminded her of me. She loved that necklace almost as much as she loved me. But…one day…” He stopped talking.

            “What happened, Roy?”

            “…Mel and I were at the lake on a bright, sunny day as usual. That was the day that Mel’s dog died. She was really upset about it, so I tried to make her feel better. But, she rejected me.

            “‘Nothing you say can bring him back, Roy. Nothing can bring him back,’ she said.

            “‘Can’t you at least try to feel better? Moping around about it won’t help anything. You’re just being annoying,’ I said. Why did I say that?

            “Mel was sitting on the ground and I was standing in front of her. She stood up and shoved me.

            “‘You shut up!’ she screamed. ‘You don’t know what it’s like to lose someone you love!’ But I would know that feeling very soon.

            “‘Maybe I don’t know, but he was just a dog! You’ll get over it and get a new dog tomorrow, anyway. You’ll probably get ten dogs tomorrow, because you’re so spoiled!’

            “Mel just glared at me with this scary look on her face. She was steaming…And so was I.

            “‘I hate you, Roy! I hate you!’ she screamed at me. That was the first time that she had ever said that.

            “But, I got so angry at her that I ripped off the necklace from her neck.

            “‘What are you doing!?’

            “I turned around to face the lake and said, ‘When I first saw this ugly rock, I was going to skip rocks with it. In the end, that’s what happens.’ Then I did exactly that. I skipped rocks with the rock on her necklace. It didn’t go too far, but far enough in the water that if you couldn’t swim, then you wouldn’t be able to get it. The rock sank below the surface then.

            “‘No! I hate you!’ Mel screamed from behind me. And then, she ran forward and dove into the lake to try and retrieve the necklace. I could not swim. And neither could Mel.

            “I ran up to the lake’s edge, still angry. ‘You can’t get that!’ I yelled after her. Mel was trying to make her way towards her necklace, deep below the lake’s surface. ‘You can’t even swim!’ And I just laughed at her. I laughed…”

            Roy is crying again.

            “That’s when Mel stopped swimming, stopped breathing. She was drowning. She flipped over to look up at me, still standing right at the water’s edge. She looked at me with pleading eyes. I saw the bubbles float up from her mouth. Mel didn’t even try to get back up to the surface, because she knew that she couldn’t make it, even if she tried. She wanted me to save her, but I knew I couldn’t swim either. And she knew it, too. I realized my mistake then. And I just stood there, unmoving. I couldn’t move. I was too ashamed, too afraid.”

            Roy stops talking. I take this momentary pause to sit on the edge of his bed.

            “Mel was drowning, and I had laughed at her. A few seconds later, she died. Mel died. And I caused it. I let her die. I made her die. The reason I sing so much is because I hope Mel can hear me singing to her and forgive me for what I did. She haunts me in my dreams every time I sleep. The dream I told you about before…she haunts me in it. It’s a constant reminder of my fatal mistake,” Roy says. He can’t stop crying now. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” he screams.

            I reach out and hold him. I rock Roy back and forth.

            “It’s okay,” I say.

            “It’s not okay. It’s not alright…” he says. “The last image that I have of Mel is of her pleading eyes, drowning in the lake. Her last words were ‘I hate you,’ and those words were for me.” Roy doesn’t say anything after that. He just keeps crying.

          And now I’m crying, too.