Maybe Wes is right.
Maybe I have no business digging up the past. The beauty at the beginning of our marriage was slowly fading away, leaving in its wake a relationship that was slowly starting to sour. And if I was just reaching the middle of our story, what was the ending like?
I shudder at the thought.
Time may have dulled the pain and covered the wounds, but now I have been cutting them back open, forced to feel the pain tethered to my heart. I’m reminded that my heart doesn’t beat. It lives through words.
It’s bruised and fractured and sometimes I think it’s going to fall apart, but it’s alive, saying:
I ache.
I ache.
I ache.
But no matter the pain, I know I have to find out. I’ve gone this far. I can’t turn back now…right?
Evelyn’s screams go up an octave, making me flinch. I place her head on my shoulder and soothingly rub her back as I walk down the hall. “It’s okay,” I whisper. “It’s okay.”
Alice shoots me a dirty look but doesn’t say a word.
All Evelyn seems to be doing is crying. No matter what I do, she won’t stop. I even hum a nursery rhyme in her ear—a surefire way to get her to calm down. Still screaming.
Endless questions run through my head: Am I not giving her enough love or attention? Is she sick?
It seems the more pieces of my memory that I get back, the bigger this strange and horrifying disconnect becomes, as if the wires that connect us have been tampered with. The distance between us just seems to keep on growing. I have no idea how to stop it.
Before I go into Dr. Calloway’s office, I stop and stare helplessly into my daughter’s eyes. “Please, please stop crying,” I plead with her.
She blinks, her light brown lashes fluttering against her cheeks, and stares at me blankly. The wailing stops, but she fusses and squirms in my arms, as if she’d rather be in anyone else’s arms but knows it won’t happen.
Before Alice walks away, she mutters underneath her breath: “Fairfax is no place for a baby….”
Taking a deep cleansing breath, I knock once on the door before I walk in. Dr. Calloway greets me and I make a beeline for the same chair I always sit in. Very quickly, I’m starting to see Fairfax as a transition stop between my old life and the one waiting out in the world for me.
We go through routine questions and I give her my routine answers. There’s this anxious energy swirling between us.
“Ready for a new batch of photos?” she asks with a smile.
As afraid as I am of seeing the rest of my past, I’m addicted. I need to know the rest. “Ready.”
“Excellent.”
My file is already open in front of her. She pulls out only three photos.
First up: Wes and me. We’re sitting across from each other. The wineglass in front of my half-filled plate of food is full. Wes’s is empty. He’s leaning into the photo, a smile on his face. But it’s all wrong; there’s no feeling behind the smile, just a darkness that makes goosebumps trail across my skin. My expression is something altogether different. There’s no smile. Not a trace of happiness on my face. I look shell-shocked and there’s fear in my eyes.
“Next picture,” I say a little too loudly.
The second photo is older. The edges are curling inward and there’s a slight yellow tinge to the overall picture. It’s of a little baby girl. A typical studio background is behind her. She’s wearing a blue and red plaid dress with black lace trimming the hem. Her chubby legs are in black leggings. A big, red headband with a bow bigger than her head is on her face. She gives the cameraman a big toothy grin. I find myself staring back.
“That’s me.”
Dr. Calloway doesn’t reply. I’m breaking our routine, but it feels good for once to finally recognize something before the memories take me over. My mother had a larger photo of this one framed in our house, right next to one of my brother. She would stare at it lovingly, a whisper of a smile on her face. Growing up, I never understood the meaning behind the smile, but now that I have Evelyn, I get it.
The third photo: me and Sinclair. Blood roars through my veins as I stare at the image of the two of us. The setting is a party of some sort. Balloons and streamers are in the foreground. Happy smiling faces that I can’t put names to are around us. It looks like Sinclair and I are dancing. His hands hold mine in the air as I spin around. The hem of my dress lifts and twirls around me. My free hand is palm up, fingers stretched out, as if I’m trying to grab on to the moment. Strands of my hair block my vision, but I’m still staring at Sinclair, the biggest smile on my face. All I can see of him is his profile, but I see the small dimple etched into his cheek and know he’s smiling too.
Dr. Calloway starts to speed up the process. The pictures start to flip back and forth, over and over and over. I may remember the photo of me as a baby, but my memory latches on to the one of Sinclair and me. I feel the crisp air. I hear a car door slam. Voices trailing behind me.
Slowly, I’m sucked back into that memory.
I go willingly….