“The medical staff assumed that I was your child’s father, but you insisted that I was not, and I could not allow anyone to remember my presence. Will you forgive me for altering your memories?” Formalities aside, now he was waiting for me to play my part.
“Yes. I understand . . . ” Absolutely nothing. I stood up and walked to the water’s edge. The tide was going out, and my shoes settled into the muck, anchoring my body. If only my mind could be so easily grounded. I was adrift in powerful currents that threatened to capsize my sanity. Such as it was.
I shoved my hands in my back pockets, elbows splayed out, and tipped my head back to stare up into the shockingly blue sky. Aliens were up there somewhere. God, too, somehow. White streaks crisscrossed high above us, and I snorted. The first time I’d heard about the chem-trail conspiracy, I’d spent hours searching through crackpot blogs and applied science articles.
“Are those just vapor trails from jets?”
“What else would they be?”
I glanced over my shoulder, but the way he was studying the sky made me turn back to the river. “There’s a shoebox in the trunk where you found Mimi’s crocheted throw.”
“Yes.”
“How can you explain what’s in it?”
“You think a few photographs and a marriage license are too difficult for us?”
“And a death certificate, and divorce papers . . . "
“What are you asking?”
“You know.” The day was warming, and the wind had shifted. It was coming from the south now, bringing with it the promise of an evening shower.
“We had to create a second set of images.” He sounded closer. “Not that the Servants minded. They are always impressed when someone personalizes an implanted memory.”
I waited.
“When humans want to remember their truth, when they are not satisfied with the lie, their minds encode clues into the new memories. Evidence of who tricked them into accepting what was false.”
“So, my memory of Jack . . . ”
“Bears a minor resemblance to me.”
“Because I wanted to remember what you did.” I could feel him behind me and crossed my arms.
“I believed I was bestowing a kindness. We were not responsible for your pregnancy, and so I assumed the child’s father was merely . . . ”
“Unavailable.”
“Something like that.”
“So why make me forget seeing Mimi?”
“I told you. I did not.”
I turned to face him. “Are you saying I made myself forget?”
“I believe that you wished you had not seen her as she was in her final days . . . and that you preferred the excuse of an offensive boor to the innocuous character I provided.”
So, what he was really trying to say was that the past thirteen years of guilt and self-doubt were my fault. Almost fourteen. She had a birthday coming up.
“I’ve never even shown those photos to Eileen.”
“I know.”
“She never asked if I had any.”
“You are her mother.”
“I knew it was wrong to keep them from her.”
“And now you know that it was not.”
“Do I?”
“Because of your decisions, she has no emotional attachment to a fiction.”
“Because of my decisions, she does.”
“Adam is her father.”
“No, he isn’t.”
“You cannot punish him for what he does not understand!”
“Jesus, Sal, don’t lecture me on how shitty this is! That poor man is not her father. According to you, another Adam in another goddamn reality is.”
“Not exactly.”
“Oh, well, how about you explain it, then. Exactly.”
“It is complicated. Are you . . . would you prefer to wait?”
“No, I don’t want to wait! I want to know now. Everything.”
“I am not able to tell you everything.” He touched his ear.
“Well, then, you know what? I can’t do this.” At his frown, I gestured wildly at the sky. “This, Sal!” I pointed a finger and scribbled in the air like a mad woman. “This! I can’t play alien mind games every time I have questions! This is my life! My daughter’s life!”
“I know.”
“Well, that’s helpful.” I circled away from him and paced off my aggression. Taking it out on him wasn’t fair, but goddamn it this was crazy.
Says the woman who sees things even aliens can’t comprehend.
My personal brand of crazy wasn’t the issue here.
So, you’re selfish and stupid.
I stopped behind Sal, close enough for my shadow to climb past his waist, but he didn’t turn. The sun was warm across my shoulders and neck. Still morning, and yet the day felt like an eternity already.
“Eileen?”
“Listening to a lecture given by Carl Sagan in 1998.”
I nodded, even though he couldn’t see me. Hell, he could probably hear the wind whistle past my earlobes.
He was motionless, his muscular body evenly balanced and his arms relaxed by his sides; but I could feel his tension. His broad back barely moved with his breaths, reminding me of an animal scenting danger but unsure whether to act.
I was the danger. He’d given me a shoulder to cry on, and a heartbeat later I’d snapped at him . . . and for what? For being careful? For protecting us? For trying his best in an impossible situation?
He’d been in such a dark place last night, and I’d promised him that he wasn’t alone. That I’d help him. He needed me . . . or someone . . . but who else was there? Last night I’d been certain he was being played, being lied to by the very family he served. And today . . . ? Today I’d hurt him again.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered.
His only response was a tightening of the tendons across his shoulders, pulling his posture into a more perfect alignment. I moved around to face him, and he looked over my head, his massive silhouette backlit by the sun.
“I shouldn’t have lashed out at you.” Stepping into his shadow, I peered up at him, but there was no need to shift my vision. The black energies were palpable in the space between us. “You didn’t deserve th—”
He slammed my body against his, one hand sliding under my shirt and the other cupping the base of my skull with shocking precision.
No! Forcing my torso back, I
