Lost Past (8 page)

             
“I think it could be easy for you to hide now. It’s pretty chaotic at the moment,” Eric said.

             
"Am I paranoid, or could this be related to what I just did?” John asked.

             
“I think it is possibly related to what WE just did.” Eric pulled into a gas station. The pumps seemed to be working, so the chaos had not extended that far. “You didn’t need gas,” John said after Eric put in half of a tank.

             
“But I might in a few days, and I would prefer to be prepared. Where should we go?”

             
They went to the hospital and found everyone there. People assumed they came in to deal with the chaos, and John had no objections to soothing people in the increasing hysteria. Eric’s boss praised him for assembling his team of psychiatrists, complaining that other departments didn’t see the need. Many people decided to stay at home and hover by the radio.

***

             
Tom dropped Linda and her suitcase off at Mary Chen’s apartment before he drove back to medical school. Although Linda could go back to the apartment she shared with two women at school, she was finished for the semester. She planned to pick up more clothes
and spend a few days with a friend from high school. Tom offered to wait around to drive her there, but Linda felt she should spend some time with Mary. She used her key to enter. With her father apparently alive, it was still nominally her second home, but she apologized to Mary for intruding.

“That’s all right,” Ma
ry said. “My mother and brother
left.” It didn’t take much acuity to realize that Mary was unhappy with something related to that.

“How are you holding up?” Linda asked.

“They want me to clear out his things!” Mary said angrily. “And now it looks like he may not be dead. I was almost ready to go along with them, believing him dead. He’s not dead. He can’t be dead.”

Mary started to cry and Linda put her arms around her. While Mary talked about how wonderful Arthur was Linda saw a side to her father she never saw before. He was kind, he was interested in Mary’s work, he respected her, he understood her, he understood her research, he didn’t care she couldn’t have children, he respected her Chinese culture, he liked her food, he took care of her when she was sick, he was even good in bed.

The last item was somewhat of a shock to Linda, but she realized that Mary hardly was aware of her audience and continued talking for some time about how good their marriage was. Mary then started griping about her own family. They wanted her to marry someone Chinese, they thought she should hide her intelligence, they liked Arthur’s prestige, but they didn’t like Arthur, and so on. They wanted to know how much money he left her, and could she help put her brother’s children through college?

“Why did you invite them?” Linda asked.

“I didn’t. They invited themselves. I let them come because I thought it would help.”

Linda realized she couldn’t leave. As soon as Linda persuaded Mary to lie down, a reporter called. Mary hung up on him and turned off her cell. Linda turned off hers, not wanting to bother Mary, who fell asleep very quickly. Linda saw a bottle of pills next to her bed, with today’s date on it. A quick check on the Internet told her they were tranquilizers and that the dosage was the standard one. Was the doctor aware of how tiny Mary was?

Linda watched the news and realized she was hungry. The refrigerator was full of casseroles dropped off by a well-meaning community. She picked a hamburger and scalloped potato dish that she knew Mary wouldn’t like. It was bland and fattening, which suited Linda’s mood. She was annoyed when cable TV went out, but not concerned. She changed the sheets on the two beds used by Mary’s family, washed them, and remade the beds. She checked her cell for messages, but couldn’t get a signal.

In boredom, she went to her father’s study. The file cabinet contained her father’s records, and a memory triggered her curiosity about what she might learn from his old pocket calendars. Although it took her several tries to find the right years, it wasn’t long before she found what she was looking for. For over two years, most Fridays through Mondays were marked off with the label V. They started when Linda was seven.

“What are you doing?” Mary asked her angrily.

Linda hadn’t noticed the door open. “Look at these,” she said, ignoring Mary’s tone.

Mary’s curiosity overcame her criticism and she looked. “That’s strange.
Almost no meetings for four days every week.
A wedding once.
There should be conferences. He always goes to conferences.”

There were no conferences for a period of almost three years.

Mary’s research was normally limited to science, but she grasped the idea of looking
in other sources. “Let’s look at your mother’s books. Arthur kept them.”

Her mother’s books were not appointment books, but ledgers. Linda remembered her keeping a calendar on the refrigerator where pages were discarded when the dates passed. Mary pulled out the ledgers. Natalie kept track of every expense: doctor appointments, haircuts, groceries, and gas. Groceries were divided into food, paper, soap, and household items. Even clothing was divided as to w
hom it was for. She clearly didn’
t believe in calling an expense “miscellaneous.”

Natalie belonged to a book club that met twice a month on a Thursday evening, and hired a babysitter, with the cost meticulously noted. Arthur taught two classes every semester, which met on Tuesdays and Thursdays, leaving Thursday evening through Tuesday mornings free to do V, whatever V was.

“Is there anything scheduled during V?” Mary asked.

“I don’t think so.” Linda went back to the calendars and found one entry during the V time. “Here’s something. It says ‘citizen ceremony.’”

“What’s that? Arthur was born in Maryland and has lived here all his life. The ceremony couldn’t have been for him.”

Linda looked through her mother’s books again, but found nothing new.

             
“Is it significant? Should we tell someone?”

             
Linda knew Mary meant telling proper authorities, but replied, “John. I’d call, but my cell phone isn’t working.” They tried Mary’s, but it didn’t work either, and she had no landline.

Linda’s desire to talk to John was overcome by her sense of responsibility. She insisted Mary eat before they left, and was amused to note how little food it took to fill up someone who was a size two. Mary always ate lightly, but Linda previously believed it was willpower rather than inclination.

“Can you drive? I’m a bit shaky. Did I say anything? I wasn’t too clear on what I said before I fell asleep. I’m sorry if I—”

“You told me how much you love Dad,” Linda interrupted, not wanting to sort through all the things Mary said.

Mary briefly colored, remembering. “You love him,” Linda repeated. “So do I. Let me get my purse and we’ll see if we can help him.”

Linda took Mary to John’s apartment. A couple of minutes after knocking, Mary said unnecessarily, “He’s not here.”
Linda knew that because she couldn’t sense him. She knew he was fairly near, but not here.

“You haven’t been here before?” Linda made it a question out of politeness, but Mary’s lack of knowledge of the location of the apartment told her the answer.

“No. Why would I?”

Linda remembered John’s deliberate silences, said nothing and remained by John’s door to make it all the more uncomfortable. It took almost a minute before Mary continued.

“When I moved in with Arthur, I had misgivings about being a stepmother, but I was in love, really in love for the first time in my life. My first husband was,” she paused as if looking for a word, “suitable, but he divorced me when we found I couldn’t have children. Although that was a bitter disappointment to my mother, I found I was happier without children. I could do my research and didn’t have to hide my intelligence. Arthur claimed the two of you were no trouble, but Natalie did everyth
ing. Y
ou needed your first bra, and somehow I was expected to help you. You resented me and I didn’t want to do it, but Arthur
was at his computer doing research, which I knew was more important than anything I would ever do.”

Linda remembered the bra with embarrassment. She didn’t behave well, but at nearly thirteen with her mother’s disappearance, it wasn’t surprising. “And John came?” Linda remembered John came shortly after she got her first bra.

“He took over. He cleaned the house.” Linda made a face and Mary corrected herself, “Well, he made you and Tom clean the house, shovel the snow, and mow the lawn. He worked with you, but three people can do things pretty fast.”

“My mother did that.”

“But you stopped working when I came,” Mary complained.

Linda remembered that too. It was a mute rebellion that she never discussed with her brother. Mary wasn’t a good stepmother, but Linda didn’t make it easy.

They went to the hospital to look for John, listening to the car radio telling of the local chaos. Reporters phoned in reports using landlines. No one could find a natural explanation, but three distinct and unrelated terrorist groups took responsibility. The government was pretty certain that none of them actually were responsible, because none of them had the power.

They found John talking to Eric in his office while Cara slept on a chair. Cara woke up, but didn’t uncurl from her sleeping position.

“I thought you went back to school,” John said to Linda, clearly annoyed.

“She realized I needed some comfort,” Mary said. Was this the first time that Mary ever defended her? Probably. Linda felt they bonded more that day than in the years they lived together.

“I wanted you to go because I was concerned about your safety,” John said.

“Safety?” Mary asked. John succinctly recapped their day’s activities and then Mary explained their discoveries.

“I remember Dad’s absences,” Linda said. “Mom just said he was busy. Tom had his appendix out, and she didn’t call him. When he came back, he apologized to her, but she said she understood. They didn’t know I was listening. I didn’t think much of it at the time, but now I think it was odd. And you were there.” She looked at John.

“When Arthur and your mother were talking?”

“No. You were there every time he left. You would come and the two of you would leave.  I didn’t like you then, because you were taking my father away. He didn’t spend much time with us, ever. But Mom missed him.”

“I was under the impression I was on good terms with you,” John said uncertainly.

“When you moved in, yes. You took Dad’s place, in a way.
And Mom’s.
Even though you were in medical school, you were always there for us.”

There was a brief silence with everyone looking at John. John, who always had the answers, looked baffled.

“Eric, Cara. I know I have been teaching you psychiatry, but what do you know that could bring my memory back? Clearly, I know something important, something more than how to do psychiatry.”

Eric looked helpless, but Cara put her feet on the floor and said in a confident tone, “Let’s forget about psychiatry and try logic. Arthur told you some things weren’t natural about your life. What are they?”

“Lack of sex,” John said promptly. “Apparently, I’ve been living like a monk and that
doesn’t seem natural.”

“You kissed me,” Mary said hesitantly.

“That was less attraction than an exploration. Something seemed odd about our relationship.” He hastily started to add, “It is not t
hat you are not attractive, but—
”

“Forget it,” said Mary. “I’m not insulted; it was so strange. I mean, you were invisible, sexually. I can’t explain it. It was just weird when you kissed me.”

“You are attracted to Cara,” Linda said. “But not to me.”

“No hedging,” Eric said sternly, interpreting John’s hesitation as a way to give an answer that wasn’t completely truthful. Linda felt a brief flash of satisfaction about John being ordered around.

“Yes, to both. Linda seems more like a daughter. Cara, well, hell, who wouldn’t be attracted to her?”

Linda caught a brief look of satisfaction on Cara’s face.

“Anyone else?” Eric asked.

“There was a nurse at the hospital.
A woman at the bank.
A patient this afternoon.
I feel that about every tenth woman I meet is attractive.”

“And Cara?”

“It was more. With Mary and Linda, I think I successfully turned off any sexual feelings. With Cara, I just hid them.”

Not all that well, Linda thought. I knew he was attracted to her.

“What else?” Cara said. “Not about me, about you. What else seems odd?”

“The online courses I took for my undergraduate degree. I like interacting with people. Why would I take online courses?”

“What else?”

“I know science better in
Vigintees
than in English, particularly drugs.”