Reclaimed Page 6

  Jenna must have realized I had no idea what she was talking about. “At the shop. You bought a couple of books and asked about an old lathe, then you couldn’t get away fast enough. It’s like you’re two completely different people.”

  Moody and interested in a lathe? Only Luke would be asking about woodworking equipment. Damn it. This had nothing to do with my memory and everything to do with my brother. We were going to have a talk when I got home. “House arrest” meant he was not supposed to be running around town. He knew the rules as well as I did, but I was the only one who seemed to give a damn about them.

  I debated telling Jenna about Luke right then, but I didn’t want her to know about him at all. I couldn’t tell her that my twin brother was—what? Even I wasn’t sure. He was hiding something, even from me, or especially from me, but I got the feeling it was the reason for everything—the fight with Dad, Mom’s disintegration, our slinking out of the state in the night. Luke couldn’t be trusted. So where did that leave me? We were two pieces of a whole—at least, we had been. Once.

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “Migraines.”

  “That keep you from speaking?”

  “That keep me from remembering.” I skimmed the truth, leaving the heavier parts to settle to the bottom. “I’m sorry if I was rude.”

  “You know, that excuse is getting pretty thin.”

  She had no idea. “One more chance. If I screw up again today, you can drown me.”

  “Jenna?” A woman’s voice called out from inside the house, and Jenna turned.

  “I’m going to the lake, Mom,” she hollered. “I’ll be home later.” Jenna grabbed her bag from behind the door, then shut it before her mom could answer.

  I didn’t know if Jenna had agreed to go with me because she was giving me another chance or because she wanted away from her house. Whatever the reason, I’d take it.

  JENNA

  I wanted to stay mad at Ian, but my need to get away from my mother was stronger. She’d had several glasses of wine last night. Every time she’d thought my back was turned, she’d tipped her head back and drained her glass. I wasn’t very worldly, but I knew normal people didn’t drink like that. And then she’d forced me to look at old yearbooks while she told me overinflated stories of her glory. Spending time with her when she was like that always made my skin feel too small. Last night I couldn’t go anywhere. Today, escape won out.

  Ian headed to his truck, while I walked to the Bronco. “I’m driving,” I called after him. “You can either follow in your truck or ride along.” I didn’t wait to see which one he chose.

  I tossed my bag in the back of the Bronco and climbed into the driver’s seat just as he opened the passenger side door. “I won’t come if you don’t want me to,” he said.

  I stuck the key in the ignition and started the truck. “You can come if you want. You promised I could drown you, remember?”

  He grinned, climbing inside and slamming the door. “I have a feeling I might regret that later.”

  “I have a feeling you’re right.”

  There were a pair of muddy running shoes on the floorboard, and Ian tossed them into the backseat as I pulled out of my driveway. “I run cross-country,” I explained.

  “Really?” He seemed surprised. “Running was always my punishment. What made you pick that?”

  I shrugged. “Why do you play football?” Why does anyone do anything?

  “I’m not sure,” Ian said. “I don’t actually remember why I even started. I have a picture in my room of me right after a game. I’m covered in sweat and blood and grinning like hell. But I don’t remember playing that game. I remember that we won, that I was interviewed and everything, but I can’t remember actually playing the game.”

  He shook his head in frustration, and I felt bad for him. While there were a few things in my life I wouldn’t mind forgetting, I couldn’t imagine what it would be like to lose those that meant something. Who would I be if I couldn’t remember Pops? If I didn’t remember my mom before his death?

  “Are you a good runner?” he asked.

  I was getting pretty good at running away. “I’m all right.” I wasn’t breaking any records, but if I could shave a minute off my time, I might qualify for at least a partial scholarship. “I like running because I can set goals and reach them if I work hard enough. Life isn’t always like that.”

  “I know exactly what you mean,” he said, and I was surprised to find that he sounded like he actually did. Most of the time Becca just rolled her eyes and told me to lighten up. It was nice that Ian actually heard and understood what I was saying.

  “There are some things that, no matter how hard you try, no matter how much work you put into, don’t ever happen,” Ian said. “I can’t stand it when I can’t change things. When it’s out of my hands.”

  Staying mad at him made more sense than the way I actually felt. His face was honest and open when he spoke, his words a truth I could almost hold in my hands.

  “I run the drills and I get better at football. I study for a test and I get an A. But no matter how hard or how bad I want it, I can’t find my memories or get rid of my headaches. I can’t fix my…” He stopped short and turned in his seat, his voice lower. “I can’t make the right impression on this really great girl, because no matter how hard I try, I keep screwing it up. Wouldn’t it be great if willpower made things happen?”

  My thoughts, someone else’s voice. Because if everything worked like that, I could fix my family before I graduated high school. I wouldn’t have to worry about them crumbling when I was no longer here to hold them together. I wouldn’t have to fear failure—or escape.

  “Okay,” I said, slowing down as we rolled through town. “If that were true, what would you make happen?” I waited for the single stoplight in town to turn green while Ian thought of an answer.

  “Well, besides the obvious one…” he began. He leaned over the console, his arm brushing against mine. His mouth twitched as he tried to hold back a smile. He failed. It was so easy to smile back.

  “Which obvious one?” I asked.

  “Willing myself not to forget beautiful girls.”

  I was relieved when the light finally turned green and I had to focus on the road instead of the way Ian was looking at me. There was just something about him that kept me from being able to stay mad. Maybe it was the easy way he smiled or the laughter that seemed to be just behind his eyes. Or maybe it was simply because we felt the same need to work toward what we wanted. It shouldn’t have been that simple, but it was.

  “How many beautiful girls have you forgotten?” I asked.

  “I’ve forgotten them, haven’t I?”

  I had to laugh. The fact that Ian could joke about something that wasn’t really funny helped me forgive him. Losing memories had to be one of the worst things in the world. Being mad because he couldn’t remember a couple minutes with me was selfish. It wasn’t his fault. I knew all about dealing with the crap life dealt. It felt like that was all I was doing these days.

  “What about you?” he asked. “What would you make happen?”

  Even though I wasn’t mad anymore, he hadn’t earned the right to be let in yet. I noticed he hadn’t answered my question either. “What, besides the obvious one?”

  “What obvious one?” There was laughter in his voice.

  “Willing myself not to be chased by forgetful boys.”

  “Is that what I’m doing? Chasing you?” He leaned forward to catch my eye before placing his hand over the top of mine. “You must not be as quick as you thought.”

  I pulled my hand away and placed it on the steering wheel. “You haven’t caught me yet.”

  IAN

  Jenna turned onto a dirt road lined with trees, and the forest swallowed us. When we finally pulled into a large open area, I was surprised to see it full of people. It had seemed like we were so far away from everything else. Jenna parked and climbed out of the Bronco. Everyone smiled and called to her. Mayb
e that was what finding my memories would be like—wandering alone in the wilderness would become a gathering of childhood friends.

  Jenna introduced me around, but I immediately forgot everyone’s name. It was hard enough for my brain to hold onto whole days; names slipped through like smoke. I wanted to remember enough to know at least a few people before school started. I hoped getting my memory back would solve this problem. I didn’t want to spend the rest of my life desperately trying to hold on to details.

  “Oliver and the new guy!” Kyle shouted from a nearby boat. He waved us over, and we’d barely gotten in and away from the shore before Kyle punched it. Several kids on Jet Skis passed us up, and Kyle pushed the throttle forward. Water splashed over the sides of the boat and onto a couple of squealing girls. Jenna glared fiercely into the wind, her hair streaming behind her like flames.

  We sat in the back of the boat, and Jenna tethered me to Solitude with her stories. I could’ve spent the entire day just listening to her talk. Her words created images vivid enough that I could almost steal her memories for my own. I liked her stories. I liked her.

  “My grandpa used to take me fishing here,” she said. We had to lean in close to hear each other over the growl of the engine and the roar of the wind. I didn’t mind. “He used to get so mad because I wouldn’t leave my line in the water.” She smiled. “I just liked to reel it in.”

  Kyle was standing at the wheel, and he turned halfway. “Did you ever jump off the Point?” he asked Jenna. He pointed toward a cliff on the left side of the boat.

  “People jump off that?” I asked. It had to be at least thirty feet high.

  “Not anymore,” Kyle said. “Some kid broke his neck a few years back.”

  “His name was Peter,” Jenna said.

  “Oh yeah.” Kyle started telling the story. But when Jenna turned back to me, I forgot to listen.

  We rode to the other side of the lake, slowing once we neared a tiny island in the middle of a large cove. Cliffs jutted out at odd angles from either bank, and the island itself was covered in large trees that gave way to a rocky shore. Kyle eased the boat onto the island, then started tossing everything onto the dirt.

  I sat at the edge of their group and tried to remember what it had been like when I belonged. They talked about people I didn’t know and places I’d never been. They had inside jokes that I would never understand. But I’d been a part of a group once. I’d had my own friends and inside jokes. Even though I no longer remembered the specific details, being with Jenna helped me see the shadows still cast by those moments. When Jenna threw her head back and laughed, I wanted to memorize every single note and gesture before I lost it completely. If I couldn’t have those old moments back, I would fill myself with new ones.

  JENNA

  After lunch, Ian and the guys threw a football around. He made fitting in look so much easier than it must have been. Moving to Solitude had to be rough, especially since our groups had been formed in the sandbox when we were five.

  Steph came and sat by me. We were best friends in second grade when we’d both had Mrs. Campbell. We weren’t that close anymore, but I still liked her, although the fact that she was hanging out with Dani Peters caused me to worry a little about her sanity. “He seems nice,” Steph said.

  I turned and glanced at Ian. He kicked up the sandy dirt as he ran for the ball Kyle threw. He caught it just before falling into a scraggly bush, but came up grinning. There wasn’t even a hint that he was bothered by anything other than making sure he didn’t drop the ball. Maybe this was one of the reasons I liked Ian. He was so present in the moment. All his baggage must have been tucked neatly out of sight, because he sure wasn’t hauling it around for the world to see. And he only knew me in this moment as well. He didn’t remember me throwing up on Mrs. Kitchener the first day of kindergarten. He didn’t recall every single stupid thing I’d ever regretted. Because he was a clean slate, so was I. He was easy to be with, and without even trying, he managed to loosen the knot that formed whenever I was at home. But I wasn’t going to lose my head over any boy, no matter how handsome he was or how much my heart beat against my chest and demanded I change my mind.

  I knew Ian was coming before I saw him walk up because Steph sat up straighter and grinned.

  “Steven said we could use his Jet Skis,” Ian told me. “You up for it?”

  “Sure,” I said, standing up and brushing the dirt off my legs.

  I tried not to stare as Ian pulled off his shirt and tossed it on his towel. I wasn’t the type to be easily swayed by broad shoulders and defined abs. And Ian had both. I focused instead on fastening my life jacket and getting the Jet Ski turned around. We eased out of the shallows, then I roared off, spraying Ian.

  The wind tore at my hair and made my eyes water. Ian and I cut around each other and jumped the wakes. We rode out toward the spillway, the green banks and cliffs a blur as we raced faster and faster. I found myself laughing out loud, a sound that was snatched away instantly. I wondered if, somewhere, someone was standing on the porch and heard my laughter carried on the wind.

  We circled around to the Point. It was the quietest part of the lake, secluded in a tiny cove accessible by a small road that twisted through the woods. A narrow inlet led from the lake to the cove. We eased through, parking the Jet Skis and climbing off. We sat on our life jackets and dried off in the sun.

  I’d never seen someone absorb a place like Ian. He looked at everything and wanted to know the intricacies of Solitude.

  “Places like this have long memories,” he said. He didn’t have to tell me. Small towns weren’t subtle and they didn’t have secrets.

  “Yeah, no one ever forgets,” I said.

  “Forgetting isn’t always a good thing,” said Ian, and I regretted my choice of words. “Familiarity isn’t always bad. You want those you love to know you so well they don’t have to ask you what you want on your burger or what movie you want to see. They just know.”

  “What does that have to do with Solitude?” But I knew exactly what he was getting at. I just didn’t know how he managed to voice the fears I couldn’t.

  “Because when you walk down the street, everyone knows who you are. You don’t have to impress anyone or try to get noticed.”

  “I don’t want to be noticed.”

  “Not all the time,” he said. “But you don’t want to be forgotten either. When no one knows you, you have to prove yourself every single day. It’s exhausting.”

  I understood what he meant. Having to reinvent myself was something I both looked forward to and feared. I didn’t know who I would be when I no longer lived in Solitude.

  “It’s not that difficult to fit in around here,” I told him. “Get on the football team and complain about the heat, and you’ll be a local in no time.”

  He smiled and leaned back. The hum of insects made me drowsy.

  “So why Solitude?” I asked.

  “Mom found a doctor in Middleton who thinks he can help me with my headaches.”

  “So that’s why you were here in October? To meet with the doctor?”

  He shrugged. “I don’t remember being here before.” His face was so full of remorse that he didn’t have to say the words. “I’m really sorry.”

  “Me too.” Because October was part of the reason I was lying in the sun with Ian right then. I hated that he didn’t have the same memories of me that I had of him. “Why don’t you remember?” I turned my head to look at him, but he was staring off into the trees. He looked like he was searching for the words, but I knew he wouldn’t find them there. I never did.

  “I don’t know,” he finally said. “I really don’t.”

  I didn’t push it. Not knowing the cause had to be the worst part about the whole thing.

  We listened to the water and the wind. There was the occasional sound of a boat passing, but mostly it was quiet. The silence was one of the most beautiful parts of the Point.

  “I thought I was going to hate it
here,” Ian admitted after a minute.

  “And now?” I opened my eyes, turning my head to look at him. I wondered how long he’d been watching me; the thought made my insides squirm.

  The corners of his mouth curved up in an endearing grin. “It’s looking pretty good so far.”

  I smiled back. “So you don’t miss Massachusetts?”

  “Right now I can’t think of one good thing about it.”

  His eyes drifted to my lips, but he didn’t try to kiss me.

  NINE

  IAN

  We built a fire as the evening wore on, needing light rather than warmth. The party really started as the stars, and two more boats full of football players and alcohol, showed up. Laughter echoed over the lake.

  “I’m serious!” a guy said as I stepped out of the shadows and sat near the flickering light. “She was home from college to watch her little brother compete.”

  “The only action you got was poison ivy.” Steven laughed.

  “Keep it up,” the guy warned, “and I won’t let you have any melon bomb.”

  Steven shut up.

  “Melon bomb?” I asked.

  Steven grinned. “Drunk watermelon. Chris here fills it with vodka.”

  Chris lifted the lid of the cooler, revealing a huge watermelon surrounded by ice.

  “How much did you put in?” Steven asked.

  “More than enough,” Chris promised. “It’ll knock you on your ass.”

  I passed on the watermelon, but took the beer Steven offered me even though I didn’t drink it. The smell gnawed at the back of my mind, a finger that seemed to probe my memory, sending up images I couldn’t hang on to, like wisps of smoke.