I didn’t like thinking about the day of my birth, partly because it was unnatural to be able to remember that far back, and partly because I couldn’t make sense of it. I didn’t know how it should make me feel, and I didn’t want to feel the wrong thing, if that were even possible. But now that Kaidan had picked that scab, it was bleeding and needed tending.
I called the time before my birth the “dark days.” Not because they were bad, but because being in utero was dark. It was like being cradled in a warm hammock at night. What I remembered most was the sound of my mother’s voice. She was singing the first time I was able to hear the warbled sounds. When I thought to try out my limbs, pushing out to meet the firm, smooth resistance surrounding me, she’d push back and laugh, which bounced me. Jonathan LaGray’s voice had been there during my dark days, too, booming gravelly and gruff.
Being born was disorienting—too bright and too cold—but worst of all had been the feeling of having lost some sort of knowledge that had been commonplace during my dark days.
I couldn’t see well with my filmy infant vision, but I remember the impact of the man’s eyes as they bore down on me that day. They were filled with some of the knowledge that I now lacked.
Just say no to drugs, will ya, kid?
I never knew whether the gruff man’s message to me had been serious or sarcastic. I’d never seen him again.
I could still recall the nun, a wrinkled old woman who emitted a pure lavender peace. And Patti, standing over me with her hair falling around her face the day she came to get me. She nearly exploded with love when they placed me in her outstretched hands, as if I were a fragile gift.
That was the only part of the memory I understood, and could therefore cherish freely: the moment I met Patti.
I watched her now as she turned the page of the newspaper and hummed to herself. A train passed by on the hill through a scattering of pine trees.
“I met someone who’s like me,” I said. The train blew its whistle.
The newspaper slipped from Patti’s hands and fell to the floor in a crinkly swoosh. I was taken aback by the black storm cloud of emotion that billowed around her.
“Patti?” I whispered.
“Who was it?” The panic in her voice frightened me. She gripped the edge of the plastic table as if to steady herself.
“I-I don’t really know him,” I stammered, “but I talked to him last night a little.”
“Stay away from him!” She pointed at me for emphasis and stared with giant eyes.
The phone rang inside the apartment as we watched each other. It rang again.
“Get the phone,” she said. “I need to think.”
I jumped up and ran in, answering on the third ring.
“Hello?”
“Hey,” said a weak and scratchy voice.
“Jay? You sound terrible!” I sat down at the kitchen table and glanced out at Patti. She was sitting with her eyes closed, still holding the table’s edge, her posture rigid.
“I feel terrible,” he said. “How much do you hate me?”
“Don’t be crazy, Jay. I was just worried about you. Are you sick?”
“I feel like I got hit by a Mack truck. I don’t remember everything, but what I do remember makes me feel like a jackass.”
“We were lucky Jana helped,” I said.
“Hmph. I paid for that one. She had me up at seven o’clock making her breakfast before she had to go to work. And I’m not talking about a bowl of cereal. I’m talking eggs and bacon and everything! I couldn’t even stand up straight.”
I held in a laugh as I imagined it.
“What do you remember?” I asked.
“I got mad at you ’cause I thought you were high, so I started chugging a bottle of gin. Ugh. I can’t even think about it or I’ll get sick. Then everyone was coming up to me and asking if I heard about Scott slipping you a drug, and I just lost it. I only remember pieces after that, mostly me tearing through the place trying to find him. Pretty sure I knocked a few people over. Aw, man, I can’t friggin’ believe I got so wasted.”
“Is that all you remember?”
“Yeah. Why? What else did I do?” I looked over and saw Patti standing now, looking out at the trees with her arms across her chest. I kept my voice low.
“There was a minor occurrence involving you, Scott, and a window.”
“Oh, no. Are you serious? Is everyone okay? Did the window break?”
“Yes, it broke, but everyone’s okay. Scott had some cuts and his nose was possibly broken, but I think you mostly hurt his ego. Don’t your knuckles hurt?”
“Everything hurts. Aw, man. There go my summer savings. I need to call Gene and get that window fixed before his folks get back. But was it even true about the drugs? You definitely weren’t acting right when I saw you.”
I paused. Yet another moment when I would’ve preferred to lie. “There was Ecstasy in my drink, and I was feeling it when you saw me, but the full effects didn’t stay with me, for whatever reason.”
He let out a long, angry sound like a rumble.
“Listen, Jay. I want you to let it rest for now. Please. Thank you for sticking up for me, but I don’t want you to go after him. I’ll deal with it myself when the time is right. ’Kay?”
“Fine,” he grumbled to placate me. It hadn’t sounded believable.