Remember Me (37 page)

Our client was more than willing to help out in any way he could. He saw the great potential that we had to offer. He was willing to wait for the cost figures to be determined. He also wanted time to reshape his own production numbers based

on the increased potential of the new chip over what he had planned on using. The agreement was binding and yet break-able if certain criteria could not be met by either party.

He even jokingly wanted to know if he could keep the chip.

The next phase for us would involve Stebben and Tom working with him and his staff to reach a timeline for production. Part of the contract also gave his company one year exclusive rights to all of our production. It would be a win, win deal for all.

Our best guess: we would be able to commence production

by early nineteen eighty-nine, and his company could start marketing the computer to the private sector in late summer.

S 277 S

Brian L. MacLearn

No one had any reason to believe our chip would be undercut by anyone else; it was that far advanced of the current market offerings. We mutually agreed that by October first, two hundred chips would be delivered to his company for quality inspection and trial use. If all went as planned, then full production would begin as soon as possible thereafter.

The rest of June blurred by. The excitement level at E.M.J.

was high…for everyone but me. June gave way to July and

soon it was the week before Tom and Amy’s wedding. Everyone was in great spirits— just not me. Processes were being tested, equipment tooled, and new employees hired. Momentum

was the rule and we had plenty of it going for us. My company was thorough in everything it did. I found my best way to help was to play the role of the devil’s advocate. I threw possible complications at everyone, and they in turn searched for the best way to avoid potential pitfalls.

On the Thursday before the wedding I was sitting in my office. It was still housed in the comfortable trailer. I was caught off-guard when Amy burst in. Normally she knocked, as did everyone else, and then waited for my response before entering. She didn’t for some reason, and it couldn’t have been a better scripted moment for a movie. I was feeling the loss of my Amy and was sulking alone in my depression. In my right hand I held the battered photo of Amy and me with her kids, in front of the pond, and with the pontoon boat we’d just purchased. It showed a very loving and happy family. The sudden pull of the air from the door being flung open whisked the picture out of my hand. The air currents carried it across the desk and placed it perfectly on the floor at Amy’s feet.

“Don’t,” I yelled, but it was too late. She bent and picked the photo up, which had landed picture-side up. The expression on her face told me that she recognized the similarities of the woman in the photograph and herself.

S 278 S

RemembeR me

“The woman next to you looks a lot like me,” she said as she handed it back to me. “Is there a story here?” Amy studied me hard. I saw the conviction in her eyes of someone who wouldn’t take no for an answer.

My head suddenly hurt and I couldn’t see any way out of

this predicament. “Sit,” I said, waving her to the chair by the desk. I had no idea where to begin or what to say.

“Is this your family?”

“Yes, but they are gone.”

Amy really searched my face, trying to gauge my emotional state. She wanted to be careful with what she said. “Gone as in deceased or divorced?”

I hung my head, not wanting her to see my eyes and

mumbled, “Gone…” I had always done my best to never lie, especially to those who were the closest to me. Lying always created complications far beyond what the simple truth would bring. At this moment, I couldn’t bring myself to share what the real truth was with Amy…not today, not when her wedding was just two days away. I thought that someday I might be able to share the whole story, but maybe I wouldn’t ever be able to tell her all the truth. I felt my stomach turn sour as I lied. “About five years ago they went on a trip with her parents. It worked out well for all of us, because I had a business meeting in Cleveland. It was a special trip for the kids, getting to spend some quality time with their grandparents. They all went hiking in the mountains of New Mexico, four of the bodies were recovered, two have never been found.”

Amy suddenly went ashen and her eyes welled with tears,

“I’m so sorry,” she was barely able to say.

I didn’t let her ask what happened, I told her, “They were caught in an avalanche of rock and trees. I can’t even imagine the fear they must have felt. After a week of searching they gave up the hunt for the two who were missing. They did everything S 279 S

Brian L. MacLearn

they could. I don’t have any blame left for anyone. I’ve tried to move on the best I could.”

It ended the questions. There was nothing else that needed to be said. I folded the picture in half and put it carefully back into my wallet. “You remind me of her in many ways, same general look, same spirit, it’s probably one of the reasons I keep you around,” I tried to say it with a smile on my face, but it didn’t have any weight to it and hung in the silence of the air.

Amy was doing her own evaluation. I couldn’t read her

thoughts or even guess at what she was thinking. She sat quietly and then said, “The reason I came in was to let you know that Stebben had a minor breakthrough on boosting memory, something about a company in Sweden and the type of metal they were using.

I tried to read her expression. It was closed and unemotional, “That’s great,” I replied, the lack of enthusiasm was also missing from my voice.

The trailer seemed stuffy and the air stagnant. I didn’t want to say anything else, and Amy wasn’t forthcoming either.

We sat in silence for a few more seconds, it felt like hours, and then she excused herself with the comment, “Back to work.”

Again, my mouth had probably got me into trouble. The

story I’d told was true, only it wasn’t anyone even closely related to me. My Amy and I had talked for hours about the story when it broke on CNN. Anyone with a heartbeat felt for the surviving father and the unspeakable torment of losing his entire family. Suddenly my life felt eerily similar to that mountain. My own avalanche was out there and waiting to engulf me. I knew that something unspoken had just passed between the two of us. I was unsure of what it was, and it didn’t set right with me.

It was all that I could do to drag myself out of bed on

Saturday. My head ached from too much wine at the rehearsal S 280 S

RemembeR me

dinner. I was not officially in the wedding, but Tom and Amy had been adamant that I attend. Externally, it seemed that Amy was past our brief conversation in the trailer. She had hugged me with genuine warmth and kissed me on my check, whispering in my ear, “Thanks again for everything.”

I remembered blushing, more from the kiss than her comment. I told her, “You are very welcome.”

I sighed heavily as I sat on the edge of the bed. I rubbed my eyes and pressed my palms to both temples, trying to push the pounding headache back into my head. Solace is never in the bottom of a wine glass, but on the other hand, it occasionally provides a needed diversion. Based on the way I was feeling, I didn’t doubt there were to be more diversions coming tonight. I stumbled to the backdoor and let Emma out. I wasn’t quite sure, but I had the strangest notion that she was laughing at me.

After drinking a half of pot of extra-strong coffee, I was feeling marginally better. It could have been the four Tylenol I took too. I could tell by looking in the mirror as I was shaving, that the last couple of weeks had done a number on me. My eyes looked sunken, my skin color was a shade of unhealthi-ness, and the tension in my neck was nearly unbearable. “It would soon be over,” I told the reflection. Thankfully, he didn’t answer me back. I wondered if the weight of the world was something I would be able to carry for the next twenty years—

or longer. My health was already in a state of flux. What would it be like down the road?

When the usher asked me, “Bride or Groom,” I answered,

“Bride.” I had a moment of panic and said, “Umm…Groom…

Both.” The usher was probably Tom’s younger brother, Alan.

He rolled his eyes at me, and I followed him down the center aisle. He gave me a smart-alecky smile and gestured to either side of the aisle, leaving me to make my own decision.

S 281 S

Brian L. MacLearn

He brushed by me and headed back up the aisle to help the next person waiting in line. The woman on my left was Amy’s Aunt Kathleen, so I sat next to her. She was fairly close to my current age and much prettier than when I first met her in the future at a different wedding involving Amy. I’m sure she wondered who the hell I was, but was too polite to say anything. The wedding hadn’t started yet so I rambled on, asking her questions I shouldn’t have known to ask. It finally dawned on me, and I shut-up. We now sat in silence, waiting for the ceremony to begin. I was afraid to even look at her, so I kept my eyes towards the front of the church.

My palms were damp, and I could feel the nervous heat

coming through my shirt. I remembered the day when Amy

and I had spent an afternoon together sharing our old wedding pictures. We laughed at ourselves and each other. It had been a building block between us, sharing one the most important moments from each of our past lives. It also led us down the path to a discussion of our own wedding plans. I looked around the church and realized it was the same one they had gotten married in before—yet it was different somehow. I couldn’t put my finger on it.

The organist played the intro and everyone turned to

watch the first pair of bridesmaid and groomsman start down the aisle. “Janet and Keith,” I mentally ticked off, then came

“Desiree and Jack,” and last was, “Jessie and Clint.” Amy’s little cousin Amanda and Tom’s nephew Alex walked in next.

Amanda spread rose petals on the carpet runner and Alex carried the rings on a pillow. After everyone took their place at the altar, the organist raised the volume of the music as she began to play the “Bride’s March.”

Everyone stood and faced the back as the music escalated.

James Martin looked as dapper as any proud father could. He beamed as he stood in the archway, his beautiful daughter on S 282 S

RemembeR me

his arm. This is where it really began to differ from my version of the past. Amy’s dress this time was more elaborate than the one she had worn in the pictures. Her hair was professionally styled on top of her head, rather than hanging loose around her shoulders. She absolutely took my breath away, and I had to grab the pew to support myself. My legs felt rubbery. It was exactly the same feeling I had on our own wedding day as she walked down the aisle towards me. Her father had been beam-ing that day as well. He was a good man, and he had welcomed me into his family with open arms.

Together they moved down the aisle in perfect rhythm.

He smiled and nodded at people as he walked by. Amy, on

the other hand kept her eyes locked on Tom at the front of the church. Except for one brief moment—the instant her

eyes locked with mine. It was mere seconds, but I swear a lifetime of conversation passed between us. She looked away and passed by me. My right hand had begun to tremble, and I needed to swallow but couldn’t. They took their place in front of the altar. The minister raised his arms and directed the rest of us to sit down.

The wedding was over for me. I couldn’t focus on the real events unfolding in front of me without living the memories of the future-past. I heard the words, the prayers, the vows, only it was me up there, not Tom. Like a puppet, I went through the motions along with the other bystanders, but in my mind I married my Amy all over again. I was mentally drained by time the ceremony was over. When it came my time to make my

way down the receiving line, I couldn’t have looked any more unexcited. I gave it my best, smiling and shaking hands with everyone. Amy’s ring sparkled magnificently in the afternoon light. She looked so happy.

I hugged her and said congratulations. Her response was

a gentle kiss, just barely caressing the corner of my mouth.

S 283 S

Brian L. MacLearn

Electricity shot through me, and I lost my heart to her one more time. Tom shook my hand vigorously. I couldn’t say why, but he seemed almost decent for once in his life. I left the church and headed out to my car. The reception was going to be at the Holiday Inn, and it wouldn’t start for nearly two and a half hours. I was sure the bar there was already open, and a stiff drink sounded awfully good to me. I started the Blazer and drove directly to the Holiday Inn.

Amy’s Aunt Kathleen must have gotten over her initial reaction to me. She entered the bar not long after I got there.

She sat next to me and ordered a glass of white wine. I was busy nursing my second gin and tonic; the first one had disappeared in a heartbeat. Weird comes in many shapes and sizes.

Kathleen was definitely one of the more eccentric in the weird range. She was introduced to me as, “Crazy Aunty Kathy,” by Amy at our wedding. When we first met she was sixty-seven and looked like she still lived in nineteen sixty-seven. Kathleen could have been a poster child for the flower-power revolution. Outside of her appearance, she’d always been extremely pleasant to me. She’d be around forty-five now. There was a strong resemblance between her and Amy. I knew I was in

trouble the moment she placed her hand on my upper thigh.

She instantly propelled me to the second level of weird—

ness. My cheeks took on a deep shade of red hue. She took it as a good sign, leaning in to whisper in my ear, “Are you staying the night here?”

I stammered my way through a, “yes.”

Her hand gripped my thigh even tighter. “Maybe we can

share another drink later,” she breathed into my ear. She let her hand slide up my thigh, and I squirmed in my chair. Laughing, she removed it and grabbed her glass of wine. She leaned over and kissed me on the cheek, then sauntered out of the bar towards the reception hall.