“Yes. Good.”
“You’ll remember that you tried it once but it didn’t take. It’ll become a casual anecdote of your past. You’ll tell people you went for Memory Enhancement but it didn’t work—because of your exceptional strength.”
“Sure, okay, fine.” Get on with it, she thought. It was too much for her, what she was feeling on one side, and who she was supposed to be on the other. Rose.
“We won’t use the zoo this time, and we’ll put a special emphasis on the weather, maybe double your dose of Alitrol—”
“Triple it.” She leaned back into the elephant foam. “I’m ready.”
Dr. Star frowned. “We have to wait at least seventy-two hours.”
She felt the color drain from her face. “No! It has to be now!” She tried to lower her voice. “Is it the money? I have a job, I’ll pay, even if it takes a really long time.”
“It’s not that, Rose. Refreshers are actually free if breakthrough occurs within two weeks. Listen to me carefully. You know how when you get a perma-braid, you can’t do anything to your hair for several days?”
“This has nothing to do with my hair.” She put some hair behind one ear but not the other.
“Just an example,” Dr. Star said. “After a perma-braid, your hair needs to rest. You’ve just been under the blue light. Your brain needs to rest.”
“It’s rested.”
“I don’t make the rules, Rose.”
“Okay”—she counted on her fingers—“that’s Wednesday. I’ll stay here until then.”
“Excuse me?”
“The chair won’t mind.” She patted the arms.
“Rose, we have other clients.”
“I’ll wait in the other room. I won’t be in the way.”
“You can’t just live here, Rose. Besides, I said at least seventy-two hours, which means, more precisely, Thursday. Which isn’t available,” she said quickly. “We’re booked solid. The earliest we have is Saturday, two p.m.”
“A week—a whole week?”
“More like six days. And today is nearly over, isn’t it?”
No, today wasn’t nearly over—there was the whole evening to get through, and the night, the long night. “Wait, I have an idea. What about Memory Lane in Spruce Hills? Maybe they can see me Thursday.”
Dr. Star took a deep breath. “There have been some . . . issues at Memory Lane. It’s closed. Temporarily. Saturday, two p.m. is the earliest. It might not be me that day but a different Dr. Star. Do you still want the appointment?”
“Totally.”
“Well, I just thought, because you and I have gotten to know each other, you might want to wait for my availability.”
God, no! she almost shouted, but—did Dr. Star sound a little hurt? Someone who was kind and had a big heart might think so. “I’d prefer you, but it would be really, really hard to wait longer. Is that okay?”
“I understand perfectly.” Dr. Star looked satisfied. She got up, opened the door, and gestured for Evelyn to come inside.
Evelyn reached out for her, but she stepped back.
“Oh, she’ll settle down!” Dr. Star said. “The blue light—it can be like taking an ocean voyage. A bit of seasickness might set in.”
Seasick? More like thrown overboard and drowning. But—there was a life raft to cling to. It had letters on the side: Saturday two p.m. She just had to hold on until then.
Dr. Star and Evelyn spoke for a few minutes about the return visit. “No charge,” Dr. Star said, but Evelyn did not look pleased about coming back for the refresher. “We’ll need you to bring her in and take her home.”
“Of course,” Evelyn said, “if that’s what you really want, Rose. Or is it Clara?”
“Best if you continue to go by Rose.” Dr. Star turned to her. “Clara belongs to the past. But you, Rose—you have a future.”
CHAPTER 26
Outside, the girl—which was how she couldn’t help thinking of herself—felt even more unsteady. Who was she now, no-longer-Clara, not-yet-Rose? She was too full of blanks, like an unsolved crossword puzzle. The biggest blank of all—
Her name. She didn’t even know how many letters it was supposed to have.
It didn’t help that the sidewalk had the most enormous, treacherous-looking cracks, like something left by an earthquake—how could Rose not have noticed them? If the girl wasn’t careful, she could come crashing down.
Evelyn kept pace with her, even when the girl walked slower or sped up.
She’s practically breathing down my neck.
“You must be hungry,” Evelyn said.
True, the girl had to eat. This was something that needed to be done between now and Saturday, two p.m. Rose would want something new and exciting, something to make her taste buds dance. Clara, on the other hand, would’ve been fine with stale bread.
“How does pasta primavera sound?” Evelyn put a hand on the girl’s shoulder, trying to get her to stop. The girl kept going. “Listen, I just want to say, if you’d like to talk about it—”