28
Worst Birthday Ever
With a pathetic giggle of nervous shock, I chided, “That’s not funny, Ren. What do you mean who am I?”
“As much as I appreciated your proclamations of undying devotion, I think you may have hit your head while fighting Lokesh. I think you might have me confused with someone else.”
“Confused you with someone else? No, I don’t think so. You are Ren, aren’t you?”
“Yes. My name is Ren.”
“Right. Ren. The guy I’m crazy in love with.”
“How can you express love for me when I’ve never laid eyes on you before?”
I touched his forehead. “Are you feverish? Is something wrong? Did you get hit in the head?”
I probed his skull with my fingers, searching for a bump. He gently removed my hands from his head. “I’m fine, um . . . Kelsey, is it? There’s nothing wrong with my mind, and I don’t have a fever.”
“Then why don’t you remember me?”
“Possibly because I’ve never met you before.”
No. No. No. No. No. No! This can’t be happening! “We’ve known each other for almost a year. You’re my . . . my boyfriend. Lokesh must’ve done something! Mr. Kadam! Kishan!” I yelled.
Kishan ran into the room as if his tail was on fire. He pushed Ren away, inserting his frame between us. Quickly scooping me up, he deposited me in the chair across from Ren. “What is it, Kells? Did he hurt you?”
“No, no. Nothing like that. He doesn’t know me! He doesn’t remember me!”
Kishan looked away, guilt-ridden.
“You knew! You knew about this and you hid it from me?”
Mr. Kadam entered the room. “We both knew.”
“What? Why didn’t you tell me?”
“We didn’t want to alarm you. We thought it might only be a temporary problem that would resolve itself,” Mr. Kadam explained, “when he healed.”
I squeezed Kishan’s arm. “So with the Baiga women—”
“He wanted to take them as wives,” Kishan explained.
“Of course. It all makes sense now.”
Mr. Kadam sat near Ren. “You still can’t remember her?”
Ren shrugged. “I’ve never seen the young lady until she, or I guess Kishan, stood outside my cage and rescued me.”
“Right! A cage. A cage is where I first met you. Remember? You were at the circus. You were a performing tiger, and I drew your picture and read to you. I helped free you.”
“I remember being at the circus, but you were never there. I recall freeing myself.”
“No. You couldn’t. If you could have freed yourself then why didn’t you do it centuries before?”
He furrowed his handsome brow. “I don’t know. All I remember is stepping out of the cage, calling Kadam, and then him coming back to take me home to India.”
Mr. Kadam interrupted, “Do you remember going to Phet in the jungle? Arguing with me about taking Miss Kelsey with you?”
“I remember arguing with you, but not about her. I was arguing about going to see Phet. You didn’t want me to waste my time, but I felt there was no other way.”
Upset and emotional, I said, “What about Kishkindha? I was with you there too.”
“I remember being alone.”
“How can that be?” I asked. “You remember Mr. Kadam? Kishan? Nilima?”
“Yes.”
“So it’s just me?”
“It would seem so.”
“What about the Valentine’s dance, the fight with Li, chocolate peanut butter cookies, watching movies, making popcorn, Oregon, college classes, going to Tillamook? Is all of that just . . . gone?”
“Not exactly. I remember fighting with Li, eating cookies, Tillamook, movies, and Oregon, but I don’t remember you.”
“So you just happened to go to Oregon for no reason?”
“No. I was going to college.”
“And what were you doing in your free time? Who were you with?”
He frowned as if concentrating. “No one at first, and then I was with Kishan.”
“Do you remember fighting with Kishan?”
“Yes.”
“What were you fighting about?”
“I can’t remember. Oh wait! Cookies. We fought over cookies.”
Tears filled my eyes. “This is a cruel joke. How could this have happened?”
Mr. Kadam stood and patted my back. “I’m not sure. Perhaps it is just a temporary memory loss.”
“I don’t think so,” I snuffled angrily. “It’s too specific. It’s only me he doesn’t remember. Lokesh did this.”
“I suspect you are right, but let’s not lose all hope. Let’s give him enough time to recover from his injuries before we become too worried. He needs to rest, and we’ll try to expose him to things that will jar his memory. Meanwhile, I will contact Phet to see if he might have an herbal remedy to help with this.”
Ren held up a hand. “Before you all subject me to tests and herbs and trips down memory lane, I’d just like to have a little time to myself.”
With that, he left the room. More tears came to my eyes.
I stammered, “I think I’d like a little time alone too,” and hobbled away. When I made it to the stairs, after painfully slow progress, I paused. I gripped the banister hard, my vision blurred with tears. I felt a hand on my shoulder and turned to bury my wet face in Kishan’s chest, sobbing. I knew it wasn’t fair to seek comfort from Kishan and cry over his brother, but I couldn’t help myself.
He put his arm under my knees and picked me up. Cradling me close, he carried me up the stairs. After he laid me on my bed, he went to the bathroom, came back with a box of tissues, and set it on the nightstand. Kishan murmured a few words in Hindi, smoothed the hair back from my face, pressed a kiss on my brow, and left me alone.
Late that afternoon, Nilima came to see me.
I was sitting in my room in the white chair, clutching my stuffed tiger. I’d spent the morning crying and sleeping. She hugged me and sat down on the couch.
“He doesn’t know me,” I whispered.
“You must give him time. Here, I’ve brought you a snack.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“You didn’t eat your breakfast either.”
I looked at her with watery eyes. “I just don’t think I can eat.”
“Alright.”
She went into my bathroom and returned with my hairbrush.
“Everything will be fine, Miss Kelsey. He’s back with us, and he will remember you.”
She unbraided my hair and began brushing it out in long, smooth strokes. It comforted me and reminded me of my mother.
“You really think he will?”
“Yes. Even if he doesn’t get his memory back, he is bound to fall for you again. My mother has a saying: a deep well never runs dry. His feelings for you are too deep to ever disappear completely, even in a dry season, such as this.”
I laughed wetly. “I’d like to meet your mom sometime.”
“Perhaps you shall.”
She left me alone after that, and, feeling better, I headed slowly downstairs.
Kishan was pacing in the kitchen. He stopped when I entered and helped me hobble in. I wrapped the dishes of uneaten food that Nilima had brought me, placing them in the refrigerator.
“Your ankle looks better,” he said after a brief inspection.
“Mr. Kadam had me ice it and elevate it all morning.”
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“Yeah. I’ll be fine. It’s not the reunion I’d hoped for, but it’s better than finding him dead.”
“I’ll help you. We can work with him together.”
It must have killed him to say that. I knew he would, though. He wanted me to be happy, and if helping me reunite with Ren would make me happy, he’d do it.
“Thank you, I appreciate it.”
I took a step closer and almost fell. He caught me and drew me hesitantly into his arms. He expected me to push him away like I had a habit of doing lately, but I put my arms around him instead and hugged him.
He stroked my back, sighed, and kissed my forehead. Right then, Ren walked into the kitchen. I stiffened as he looked at us, expecting him to react to Kishan touching me, but he dismissed us completely, grabbed a bottle of water, and left without saying a word.
Kishan lifted my chin with his finger. “He’ll come around, Kells.”
“Right.”
“Do you want to watch a movie?”
“That sounds good.”
“Okay. But something with action. None of your musical stuff.”
I laughed. “Action, huh? Something tells me you’d like Indiana Jones.”
He put an arm around my waist and helped me over to the indoor theater.
I didn’t see Ren again until late that evening. He was sitting on the veranda watching the moon. I paused, wondering if he wanted to be alone; then decided if he did, he could always ask me to leave.
When I slid open the door and stepped outside, he tilted his head but didn’t move.
“Am I bothering you?” I asked.
“No. Would you like to sit down?”
“Okay.”
He rose and politely helped me sit down across from him. I studied Ren’s face. His bruises were almost gone, and his hair had been washed and cut. He was dressed in casual designer clothes, but his feet were bare. I gasped when I saw them. They were still purple and distended, which meant they’d been terribly hurt.
“What did he do to your feet?”
His eyes followed my gaze and he shrugged. “He broke them over and over until they felt like swollen bean bags.”
“Oh,” I said uneasily. “May I see your hands?”
He held out his hands, and I took them gently in mine and studied them carefully. His golden skin was unmarred, and his fingers were long and straight. Nails that had been torn and bloodied earlier were now healthy and filled in. I turned his hands over and looked at the palms. Except for a gash on the inside of his arm ending at his wrist, they looked undamaged. A normal person who’d had their hands broken in so many places would likely have lost the use of them. At the very least, the repaired knuckles would have been swollen and inflexible.
Tracing the gash lightly, I asked, “What about this?”
“This is from an experiment when he tried to drain all the blood out of my body to see if I’d survive. The good news is that I did. He was rather put out about getting his clothes all bloody though.”
He pulled his hands out of mine abruptly and stretched out both arms along the back of the love seat.
“Ren, I—”
He held up a hand. “You don’t need to apologize to me, Kelsey. It’s not your fault. Kadam explained the whole thing to me.”
“He did? What did he say?”
“He told me that Lokesh was actually after you, that he wanted Kishan’s amulet that you now wear, and that if I hadn’t stayed behind to fight, he would have gotten all three of us.”
“I see.”
He leaned forward. “I’m glad that he took me instead of you. You would have been killed in a horrible way. Nobody deserves to die like that. Better me or Kishan being captured than you.”
“Yes, you were very chivalrous.”
He shrugged and looked at the pool lights.
“Ren, what did he . . . do to you?”
He turned back to me and lowered his gaze to my swollen ankle. “May I?”
I nodded.
He lifted my leg gently and placed it on his lap. He touched the purple bruises lightly and tucked a pillow under it.
“I’m sorry you’ve been injured. It’s unfortunate that you don’t heal quickly like we do.”
“You’re avoiding my question.”
“Some things in this world shouldn’t be uttered. It’s bad enough that one person must know of them.”
“It helps to talk, though.”
“When I do feel ready to talk about it, I’ll tell Kishan or Kadam. They’re battle-hardened. They’ve seen many terrible things.”
“I’m battle-hardened too.”
He laughed. “You? No, you are far too fragile to hear of the things I’ve experienced.”
I crossed my arms. “I’m not that fragile.”
“I’m sorry. I’ve offended you. Fragile is the wrong word. You’re too . . . pure, too innocent, to hear of those things. I won’t contaminate your mind with thoughts of what Lokesh has done.”
“But it might help.”
“You’ve sacrificed enough for me already.”
“But everything you experienced was to protect me.”
“I don’t remember that, but if I could remember, I’m sure I would still refuse to tell you about it.”
“Probably. You can be pretty stubborn.”
“Yes. Some things never change.”
“Do you feel well enough to revisit some memories?”
“We can try. Where do you want to begin?”
“Why don’t we start at the beginning?”
He nodded, and I told him of seeing him for the first time at the circus and working with him. How he escaped his cage and slept on the hay, and I blamed myself for not locking the door. I told him about the cat poem and about the picture I drew of him in my journal. The weird thing was that he remembered the cat poem. He even quoted it to me.
When I was finished, an hour had gone by. He’d listened attentively and nodded. He seemed the most interested in my journal.
“May I read it?” he asked.
I twitched uncomfortably. “I guess it could help. There are some of your poems in there, and it is a good record of almost everything we did. It might trigger something. Just prepare yourself for lots of girl emotions.”
He raised an eyebrow. I quickly explained, “We didn’t exactly get off to a smooth start romantically. I rejected you initially, then changed my mind, then rejected you again. It wasn’t the best of decisions, but I thought I knew what I was doing at the time.”
He smiled. “‘The course of true love never did run smooth.’”
“When did you read Midsummer Night’s Dream?”
“I haven’t. I studied a book of famous Shakespeare quotes in school.”
“You never told me that.”
“Ah, at last something I know that you don’t.” He sighed. “This situation is very confusing for me. I apologize if I’ve hurt you. It isn’t my intention. Mr. Kadam told me your parents are gone. Is that right?”
I nodded.
“Imagine if you couldn’t remember your real parents. You’ve heard stories of this man and woman, but they were strangers to you. They had memories of you doing things that you couldn’t remember, and they had expectations of you. They had dreams for your future, different dreams than what you might imagine for yourself.”
“It would be very hard. I might even doubt what I was being told.”
“Exactly. Especially if you had been mentally and physically tortured for several months.”
“I understand.”
I stood, my heart breaking all over again. Ren touched my hand as I passed.
“I don’t mean to hurt your feelings. There are a lot of worse things I can imagine than being told I have a sweet, kind girlfriend that I can’t remember. I just need time to wrap my mind around this.”
“Ren? Do you think? I mean, is there any possibility? Could you learn to . . . to love me again?”
He looked at me thoughtfully for a moment and said, “I’ll try.”
I nodded mutely. He dropped my hand, and I shut myself in my room.
He’ll try.
A week went by with little to no improvement. He couldn’t remember anything about me despite the efforts of Kishan, Mr. Kadam, and Nilima. He began to lose patience with everyone except Nilima, who he liked to visit. I figured she bothered him much less about it. She didn’t know me as well as the others and spoke of things both of them remembered.
I made him every dish he’d liked while in Oregon, including my chocolate peanut butter cookies. The first time he ate them he seemed to enjoy them, but then I explained the significance of the cookies, and the second time he was less enthusiastic. He didn’t want me to be disappointed when eating them didn’t trigger his memory. Kishan took advantage of his reluctance and single-handedly polished off every batch I made. I stopped cooking soon after that.
I came to dinner one night and found everyone staring eagerly at me from the dining room, which had been decorated with peach and ivory streamers. A large layer cake rested in the center of a beautifully decorated table.
“Happy Birthday, Miss Kelsey!” Mr. Kadam exclaimed.
“My birthday? I totally forgot!”
“How old are you now, Kells?” asked Kishan.
“Umm . . . nineteen.”
“Well, she’s still a baby. Eh, Ren?”
Ren nodded and smiled politely.
Kishan grabbed me in a hug. “Here. Have a seat while I get your presents.”
Kishan helped me sit, and then left to gather the gifts. Mr. Kadam had used the Golden Fruit to summon my favorite dinner: a cheeseburger, French fries, and a chocolate malt. Everyone else got to pick their favorite meals as well, and we all laughed and remarked on our neighbors’ selections. It was the first time I’d laughed in quite a while.
After we finished dinner, Kishan announced it was present time. I opened Nilima’s gift first. She gave me an expensive bottle of French perfume, which I passed around.
Kishan smelled it and grunted. “Her natural scent is much better.”
When it got to Ren, he smiled at Nilima, and said, “I like it.”
The easy smile slipped off my face.
Next was Mr. Kadam’s present. He pushed an envelope across the table. He winked at me as I slipped my finger under the edge to open it. Inside was a picture of a car.
I held it up. “What’s this?”
“It’s a new car.”
“I don’t need a new car. I have the Boxster at home.”
He shook his head sadly. “It’s gone. I’ve sold it and the house through another organization. Lokesh knew about it and could have traced it to us, so I’ve covered our tracks.”
I waved the picture around and grinned. “And what type of car did you decide I needed this time?”
“It’s nothing really. Just something to get you from here to there.”
“What’s it called?”
“It’s a McLaren SLR 722 Roadster.”
“How big is it?”
“It’s a convertible.”
“Will a tiger fit?”
“No. It seats only two, but the boys are men half the day now.”
“Is it more than $30,000?”
He squirmed and hedged, “Yes, but—”
“How much more?”
“Much more.”
“How much more?”
“About $400,000 more.”
My mouth dropped open. “Mr. Kadam!”
“Miss Kelsey, I know it’s extravagant, but when you drive it, you will see it’s worth every cent.”
I folded my hands across my chest. “I won’t drive it.”
He looked offended. “That car was meant to be driven.”
“Then you drive it. I’ll drive the Jeep.”
He looked tempted. “If it will appease you, perhaps we can share it.”
Kishan clapped his hands. “I can’t wait.”
Mr. Kadam wagged a finger at him. “Oh, no! Not you. We’ll get you a nice sedan. Used.”
“I’m a good driver!” Kishan protested.
“You need more training.”
I stopped them, laughing. “Okay. When the car arrives, we’ll talk about it some more.”
“The car is already here, Miss Kelsey. It’s in the garage as we speak. Perhaps we can go for a drive later.” His eyes twinkled with excitement.
“All right, just you and me. Thank you for my wonderfully extravagant, over-the-top present.”
He nodded happily.
“Okay.” I smiled. “I’m ready for my next present.”
“That’s me,” Kishan said. He handed me a large white box wrapped with a blue velvet ribbon. I opened it, brushed aside the delicate tissue, and touched silky blue material. I stood up and took the soft gift from the box.
“Oh, Kishan! It’s lovely!”
“I had it specially made to match the robe you wore in the Grove of Dreams. Obviously the Scarf couldn’t replicate the real flowers woven through the material, but it embroidered flowers instead.”
Delicate blue cornflowers with soft green stems and leaves ran around the hem and up the side of the robe to the waist, then continued on the other side to the shoulder. Purple and orange winged fairies perched jauntily on the leaves.
“Thank you! I love it!”
I hugged him and pecked him on the cheek, and his golden eyes sparkled with pleasure.
“Thank you everyone!”
“Uh, there’s still my gift. It’s definitely not as interesting as any of those.” Ren pushed a hastily wrapped gift toward me and missed my shy smile when he stared at his hands.
The package held something soft and squishy. “What is it? Let me guess. A new cashmere hat and gloves? No, I wouldn’t need that in India. Ah, I know, a silk scarf?”
Nilima said, “Open it so we can see.”
I tore open the present and blinked my eyes a few times.
Mr. Kadam leaned forward. “What is it, Miss Kelsey?”
A tear plopped onto my cheek. I quickly dashed it away with the back of my hand and smiled.
“It’s a very lovely pair of socks.”
I turned to Ren. “Thank you. You must have known I needed a new pair.”
Ren nodded and pushed some uneaten food around on his plate. Nilima sensed something was wrong, squeezed my arm, and then said, “Who’s ready for cake?”
I smiled brightly, trying to lighten the mood.
Nilima cut the cake while Mr. Kadam added giant scoops of ice cream. I thanked them and took a bite of my cake.
“It’s peach! I’ve never had peach cake before. Who made it? The Golden Fruit?”
Mr. Kadam was busy making the next perfect scoop. “Actually, Nilima and I made it,” he said.
“The ice cream,” I grinned, “it’s peaches and cream too?”
Mr. Kadam laughed. “Yes. It’s actually from that dairy you love. Tillamook, I believe it is.”
I took another bite of cake. “I knew I recognized the taste. It is my favorite brand of ice cream. Thank you for thinking of me.”
Mr. Kadam sat down to enjoy his piece and said, “Oh, well, it wasn’t me at all. This is something that was all planned a long—” his words trailed off as he realized his error. He coughed uncomfortably and stammered, “Well, suffice it to say, it wasn’t my idea.”
“Oh.”
He went on awkwardly, trying to distract me from figuring out that my old Ren had planned a peaches and cream birthday party for me months in advance. Mr. Kadam started telling me about how the peach was a symbol of long life in China and that it was good luck.
I tuned him out. The cake suddenly stuck in my throat. I sipped some water to clear it.
Ren pushed the peach ice cream around on his plate. “Do we have any of that chocolate peanut butter ice cream left? I’m not a big fan of the peaches and cream.”
I raised my head and looked at him with shock and disappointment. I heard Mr. Kadam tell him it was in the freezer. Ren pushed aside his peach dessert and headed out of the room. I sat immobile. My fork was raised halfway to my mouth when I’d paused.
I waited. Soon, I felt the overwhelming wave of hurt rush through me. In the midst of what should have been heaven, surrounded by the people I loved, celebrating the day of my birth, I was experiencing my own private hell. My eyes welled with tears. I excused myself, stood, and turned away quickly. Kishan got up also, confused.
Trying vainly to infuse my voice with enthusiasm, I asked Mr. Kadam if we could take that drive tomorrow.
“Of course,” he said quietly.
As I went upstairs, I heard Kishan threatening Ren. Suspiciously, he asked, “What did you do?”
I heard Ren’s soft reply, “I don’t know.”