Memory Girl (4 page)

“We're honored to be here,” Greta adds with a polite head bow.

“I taught Greta over twenty-five years ago.” Instructor Penny bends toward her former student, no longer separated by youth and Instructor status, both bearing the
smooth, attractively mature faces of age twenty-five.

“It seems much longer since I've been here,” Greta says.

“Enough time for you to grow into a fine, respected citizen,” Instructor Penny says warmly. “Greta was in the last group of youths—only her name wasn't Greta.”

“I was called Abigail, and that was my study station,” Greta says, pointing to where Merry sits in the front row. “I've changed much since then. Abigail was a timid girl, never raising her hand to answer questions, much less standing in front of a group as I'm doing now. As Greta, I have gained much confidence and happiness with my Family—especially Monroe. My husband.”

At the word “husband” I suck in a gasp, as do several other youths. Our Instructors taught the basics: math, communication, history, science, faith, citizenship, and Family relationships like sister, brother, and parents. But even though most Instructors have marriage partners in their separate Families, they don't discuss their intimate relationships. When youths ask what goes on privately between a husband and a wife, the answer is always, “You'll understand with memdenity.” Still, rumors of shared beds and nakedness cause much whispering after dark in my dorm room.

“Abi—I mean, Greta—please tell us about your Celebraze experience,” Instructor Penny says, then slips into her chair.

“I was a youth much like you, eager to bond with a Family,” Greta says, pushing up her scarf, embroidered with the Hu Family emblem—tiny hooves curling into the letter H. “I read every Name Book, and the Hu Family was my top choice. At my Celebraze, I was joysome when the Hu Family Chose me, and I proudly Chose my forever Name—Greta Hu.”

“How wondrous to get your top choice,” Lorelei says
with a wistful sigh.

“It was. But the best moment came when I met my dearest husband.”

Monroe smiles shyly at Greta, saying nothing, but the way he looks into her face says more than words, as if his dark eyes see only her.

Bob, a freckled youth with cropped-short red hair and a stubby nose, raises his hand. “Did it take long to adjust to living in a Family?”

“No. They were very kind to me. Although before my first memdenity, when I knew nothing about my role, I worried about disappointing them.”

“You were perfect,” Monroe says quietly.

“See how sweet he is?” Greta beams. “I expected to love my Family but not to have the deep love I feel for my husband—even before my first memdenity.”

Merry, who sits in the front row, raises her hand. “Did memdenity hurt?”

“Not at all!” Greta chuckles. “It's like going to sleep and having wondrous dreams of new people and experiences, then waking to find these experiences really happened to you—at least through memories. My second mem was the best. That's when I remembered all my firsts with Monroe: first meeting, date, and our beauteous wedding.”

“Ooh, I hope it's like that for me,” says Polly, a quiet youth who shares my interest in reading retro-books. Many rainy days we've sat together in the reading nest, a cushioned seat surrounded by curved windows, traveling to faraway places with words.

“Blah! Too sappy,” spits out Homer. “Tell me exciting memories, like in retro-century when people went
brain-crazy or the Attack on ShareHaven. If I'd been there when that the terror-mob Attacked, I would have ripping kicked those—”

“Homer!” Instructor Penny slaps her hands together, a gesture for silence. “You will not speak rudely.”

“But I want to know about—”

“Homer!” She rises in her chair warningly.

He opens his mouth as if to argue, then slumps his shoulders. “I apologize,” he mumbles.

Marcus, in the chair beside me, lifts his hand. “May I ask a question?”

Instructor Penny nods, clearly relieved. “Please, do, Marcus.”

“I was wondering about the other youths from the last born-group,” he says slowly, as if carefully choosing each word.

“Yes?” Greta says, turning toward him. “What would you like to know?”

“You each went to different Families. Do you still see them?”

“Oh, yes.” Greta nods. “At City Center, faith service, and Sunday Fair.”

“But is it the sameness?” Marcus gnaws his lips. “Are you still friends with all fourteen of your born-mates?”

Her tawny skin pales as she glances over at Monroe, who gives a terse shake with his head. Greta's smile stiffens as she answers, “I am friendly with all of my community.”

Marcus's brows knit together, and he picks at the dirt under his thumb like he always does when troubled.

Greta goes on to describe her community role in the Role Assignments Office, where she organizes communal work
hours, and her daily Family chores of tending livestock and gardening. She glows when she speaks of her Hu Family relatives: three sisters, a brother, five nieces, seven nephews, and a grandfather who is the only Family member who appears older than twenty-five, a founding member of ShareHaven who didn't cease aging until the rare age of fifty-two.

“Gramps refuses hair shading,” Monroe adds with a pearly grin that dimples with humor. “He says he earned every one of his gray hairs.”

“He certainly has.” Greta grins back at her husband.

“I've met many of our founding citizens and they are so wise in experience,” Instructor Penny adds, then glances at the wall timepiece with surprise. “Graces good, we're out of time. This has been such an inspiring talk. Thank you so much for sharing with us.”

“I've enjoyed coming here. I know I learned much here, but I remember little of those youth years.” Greta gazes around the room, from chairs to work stations to the large table stacked with Name Books. “When I think of my childhood, I visualize a tall building in a faraway place called Chicago. My home was a two-bedroom apartment on the ninth floor, with a balcony blooming with potted flowers and a sparkling blue view overlooking the lake.”

“But you've never left the island,” I blurt. “What of your Abigail memories?”

“They aren't important,” she says with a toss of her scarved head.

I want to argue that youth memories
are
important; fifteen years together makes us a family too. But Instructor Penny is giving me the
look.
I remember her harsh tone with Homer and don't want to ruin our last day together.

“It's unhealthy to dwell on the past,” Greta adds with smiling conviction. “I have a fulfilling role with my Family—especially my darling Monroe, and I could not be happier. Monroe is more than my husband. He's my soul mate.”

Soul mate?

In the retro-books I've read, the idea of soul mates—two people destined only for each other—seemed to be made of fantasy, like unicorns and wishing on a star. How can one person be mated to another by a soul? An unsensical concept with no scientific proof. Our faith lessons teach that science created a circle of life and death—the natural way for thousands of years—until our scientists discovered the cease-aging process, transforming life's circle into a line of infinity. Belief in a soul is merely a myth from long-ago religions. There is no physical organ on the human body labeled “soul.”

Yet the way Greta and Monroe look at each other, as if they're touching even when they sit apart, gives me a strange longing.

“It's so romantic,” Lorelei whispers.

“Confusing,” I murmur, but she doesn't hear me because everyone is clapping. Chairs scrape the floor as my born-mates gather around our guests, following them to the door, asking questions about Family meals, clothing, work assignments, and other ordinary topics.

But it's the unordinary, unasked questions that trouble me. I stay in my chair, thinking. What if the soul truly exists? Is it physical like blood and skin? Does everyone have one? When someone has an accidental death and their memories are saved, is a soul a part of those memories? Does that mean the souls of Abigail and Greta now share the same body?

I concentrate on my own body, aware of my beating
heart, my skin's heat, and a faint stinging from the cut on my arm. My mind churns through memories and knowledge, conscious of thoughts. But I sense more to me, something deeper than thoughts and emotions. Could this be a soul? If so, where does body end and soul begin?

Glancing over at Monroe, who shadows close to Greta, I think about the first Greta. If she hadn't died, she'd still be his wife—or maybe she still is his wife. Reborn inside of a youth who was once called Abigail. Is Monroe in love with one woman or two?

And I wonder what will happen when I take on the memdenity of someone else. Who will I be?

“Jennza!” A voice jerks me out of my thoughts.

Startled, I look up at Marcus. I'm even more startled to realize we're the only ones left in the room. “Where did everyone go?”

“To the dorms. Didn't you hear Instructor Penny announce it was time to prepare for the Celebraze?” he asks.

My cheeks burn as I rise to my feet. “I must hurry to my dorm—”

“Wait, Jennz.” His voice lowers. “I want to speak to you.”

“Aren't you already doing that?” I say lightly.

“No, I mean … I have something to give you.” He pushes his waving hair from his eyes, furrowing his brow. “But not here.”

“Oh?” I stare at him, puzzled by his intense expression.

“No one else must know.” He tugs on my arm. “Come with me.”

I follow Marcus down the hall to the boys' dorm, where I hear rushing footsteps and excited voices behind the door. While Marcus goes inside, I wait in the hall, since girls aren't allowed in the boys' dorm, nor are boys allowed in our dorm. I impatiently tap my boot, unable to guess what Marcus wants to give me.

The door bursts open, and there's Marcus, clutching a rolled paper.

I eye the gray hemper, a paper used commonly for youth lessons. “What's this about?”

He glances up and down the hall, then even though no one else is near, he lowers his voice. “I've wanted to … um … talk to you, but Lorelei is always around.”

“There's nothing you can't say to me in front of her.”

“Oh, there is.” The paper rustles in his hand. “Remember when you asked me to climb the Fence with you?”

I stiffen, hurt feelings rushing back. “Two years ago.” I press my lips together. “You refused.”

“I wanted to go but couldn't break an important rule. Still, I kept your secret.”

“I know, and I'm grateful,” I say softly.

“Rules are important to me, but that doesn't mean I don't want to have fun too. My best memory is of carrying boards with you and Lorelei into a tree and making a platform and
watching a bird build a nest. After that you started collecting feathers.”

I laugh. “I wanted to fly and thought I only needed to build big wings.”

“I believed you could do it,” he says solemnly. “You always surprise me with things you say and do. I'm ready to join a Family, but it makes me sad because I'll miss you.”

“You'll miss Lorelei too,” I add.

“Yes, but not the same way.” He clears his throat. “Lorelei isn't you.”

I suck a sharp breath, aware of Marcus as if we were strangers meeting for the first time. Do I truly know him? I'd never guessed he favored me over Lorelei, especially after that awkward “kissing” moment when we were younger that he pretended never happened. I didn't even tell Lorelei, embarrassed and heart-stung.

“I'll miss you too,” I finally say, swallowing a lump in my throat. “I dread leaving here and going to different Families. We won't spend days together.”

“Maybe we can,” Marcus says mysteriously. “I've put much thought on this and researched the relationships in Families. In retro-century, Family relationships were a product of DNA and age. A youth couldn't care for itself, so the parents took a nurturing role and the responsibility for their children. As the parents aged, roles reversed—children caring for their parents. Family structure was a means of survival, the stronger caring for the weak.”

“But no one grows old in ShareHaven,” I say with the same pride for community I hear every day from our Instructors. “Everyone, except founders and youths like us, are age twenty-five.”

“Exactly. Our roles have changed—and so have the rules. In retro-century, it would be illegal for a brother and sister to marry. But now any unmarried person has the freedom to marry a Family member. Edward Salazar, a youth from three groups ago, married his own mother. There have even been allowances for unmarried people to marry into another Family if the Leaders approve. So it's important to belong to a Family with a forward-thinking Leader. There are ways for us to stay close, but it depends on the Family you join.”