New Life (4 page)

I headed toward the concession stand,
thinking I’d make the trip last as long as possible to avoid more
twenty questions from my parents. I was waiting in line to buy a
soda when someone called my name.

“Jason Reitmiller?”

I turned toward the woman standing there,
looking expectantly at me. She was young, pretty, and
unfamiliar.

She came toward me. “Lisa Brightman, from
high school. I was Chrissy’s best friend.”

Chrissy.
Suddenly a whole slew of
recovered memories whirled through my mind like bits of confetti.
Chrissy.
Yes. I remembered a girl smiling at me, laughing,
yelling, kissing, crying. Seemed we’d always been in the middle of
breaking up or making up, and I’d completely forgotten about her
until now.

“It’s all right if you don’t remember.”
Lisa’s tone was gentle, as if I were a child. “I’m sorry about your
accident.”

“No. I remember,” I assured her. “Chrissy
and…you.”

I sort of did remember Lisa, constantly
attached to Joe Somebody like an extra appendage that chattered a
lot.

Reassured that I wasn’t a slobbering idiot,
Lisa perked up. “How have you been? It looks like you’ve recovered
well.”

“A little gimpy, but I’m okay. What are you
up to?”

“Going to school at Barry. I’m home for the
weekend, visiting my folks. How about you?”

“I’m working now. Custodial services.”

“Oh.” She glanced at the sign in the
refreshment stand that listed prices. “I’m here watching my little
brother play.” She indicated one of the other fields.

“My sister,” I said, jerking a thumb toward
the other side of the parking lot.

That seemed to scrape the bottom of what we
had in common. I willed Lisa to flit off to wherever she’d come
from. “Nice seeing you again.”

“Good to see you too, Jason.” She started to
turn away, then stopped. “Chrissy wanted to come and see you at the
hospital, you know. She talked to me about it. She wasn’t over you,
even after everything that happened between you guys. But she
couldn’t bring herself to go, especially after how things
ended.”

How had things ended? What had we been
through?

“You were a real jerk,” Lisa added, her sweet
voice laced with glass shards.

“I’m sorry?”

She studied my face so intently I felt like
flinching. “You don’t remember.”

“Not really. I remember Chrissy. And you,
sort of, but…my memory’s hazy. What happened?”

“Never mind. It’s ancient history. You were a
different guy back then.”

Apparently an asshole.

Lisa pulled a pen and a scrap of paper from
her purse, jotted down her phone number, and handed it to me. “If
you ever want to talk about old times or whatever.”

I accepted the number on the back of an old
receipt. “Thanks.”

I wanted to ask more questions right then to
learn why I’d been a jerk, but Lisa was already walking away. She
vanished as quickly as she’d come into the crowd of people waiting
to buy salty popcorn and soggy pretzels.

I felt a little nauseated as if I’d just
gotten off a Tilt-o-Whirl. Memories of Chrissy, Joe, Tyrone, even
Lisa tumbled through my mind. Suddenly it was my turn at the
concession counter, and I couldn’t remember why I was there. I
mumbled an apology to the pimple-faced kid taking orders and
hurried away.

I barely made it into a stall of the restroom
before I threw up. This might sound like an extreme reaction to
meeting an old friend, but when a barrage of images and emotions
hits you like a semitruck, trust me, it has that effect.

I splashed water on my face from the tap and
stared at the guy in the mirror.
Chrissy.
Atkins was her
last name. She’d been my high school girlfriend. We’d gone to
games, parties, movies, the mall. We’d had sex at her house when
her parents were gone. I suddenly remembered that as clearly as if
it were yesterday. I wondered how I could possibly have forgotten
her until now.

My mom had tried to prompt my memories by
having me look through family photos. Hadn’t I seen a prom picture
or two? That time immediately after I got home from the hospital
was hazy. I was on a lot of pain meds still, so it’s no wonder some
things fell through the cracks. But my memories were unlocked now.
All except why Lisa thought I’d been so horrible to her friend.

By the time I finally left the restroom, I’d
sort of forgotten which field Katie was playing on. I stood for a
moment, blinking in the bright sunshine and wishing all the noisy
people would disappear.

“Jason?” My father approached me through the
crowd. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Fine.”

“You look pale.”

“I’m fine! There’s nothing wrong with me,” I
snapped.

“Okay. Take it easy.”

I hated when he used his “reasonable” voice,
calming me as if I was a five-year-old about to throw a tantrum.
But he had no reason to believe I wouldn’t. For a while after the
accident, I was likely to lose control at any time.

Don’t blame the parents
, I reminded
myself and took a deep breath. “Sorry. I just saw somebody I used
to know from high school, and it unlocked some memories. Dad, do
you remember Chrissy Atkins?”

“Of course. You dated her for two years. Is
that who you saw?”

“No. Her friend. Lisa. Do you remember why I
broke up with Chrissy?”

My dad laughed. “Are you kidding? You
wouldn’t tell me anything about anything back then, especially your
relationship with a girl. Neither your mother or I knew why you
broke up with Chrissy. We figured it was because you were going to
different colleges.”

As we walked back toward the soccer field, I
thought about what he’d said about never knowing me when I was a
teenager. Probably not during my college days either, because I’d
hardly ever come home. And now I was still trying to distance
myself from my parents, despite the fact that I owed them
everything.

“I’m sorry if I was an asshole,” I said.

“It’s okay. I was to my parents as a
teenager. You can call up Grandma and ask her.” My dad slung an arm
around my shoulders. “You’re getting better. I can tell you’re
working to control your temper, and you came to your sister’s game
today.”

“So I’m not such a douche?”

“You’re growing up.”

He gave me a hug, and I realized the coil of
tension I’d been pressing back earlier was gone.

****

I spent most of the weekend cleaning out
closets, doing laundry, and making sure I was one hundred percent
prepared on every case assigned to me. As a first-year associate,
my work was mostly comprised of research, a glorified paralegal
gathering statistics and facts to support the lead prosecutor. That
was why I’d been thrilled to be allowed to present the Paulik case
and given a chance to prove myself to the firm. Or to prove myself
incompetent, as it turned out. If I got another chance to step
forward, I was going to be ready in every conceivable way.

Sunday afternoon was sunny and gorgeous, so I
went jogging in a nearby park, followed by a cool-down walk that
took me to an open-air market. I browsed a book stall, poked
through vinyl albums, bought a sketch from an artist whose bold
work was a stark contrast to the handicraft booths around her. I
was heading home, satisfied with my purchase—I’d been waiting for
just the right piece to fill a particular spot on my bedroom
wall—when the sound of puppies yipping drew my attention.

In the grass behind the row of booths, a
makeshift fence contained a half-dozen puppies. Gold, tan, brown,
black-and-white, they were a mixed bag of fun of no discernible
breed. A woman sat in a camp chair beside the enclosure. I couldn’t
resist joining the ring of people exclaiming over the pups and
leaning over the fence to pat them. Everything about them was
adorable, from the way the black-and-white one scratched his ear
with a hind paw to the bright eyes of the tan one, who kept a
distance from its siblings and seemed to study the people looking
at it. If I were in the market for a pet, the tan one would be the
one I’d choose.

“Please! Daddy,
please,
” a girl begged
her father.

“Your mom wouldn’t like it.” The man smiled.
“Okay.”

I frowned at the weekend dad treating the
commitment of getting a pet as a move in his divorce chess
match.

I took one last look at the tan pup just as
it opened its mouth and yawned. A pink tongue unfurled over perfect
little white teeth. I reminded myself I was
not
in the
market for a dog, and then I asked the woman in the chair, “Is that
tan one a male or female?”

Next thing I knew, I was buying a leash and
puppy chow at a store, with the puppy squirming against my
shoulder. Talk about impulse buying. I had no room to judge the bad
dad. But at least I was a single woman with no other obligations. I
wasn’t inflicting the dog on my significant other just to cause
trouble. Besides, the puppy was so damn cute I couldn’t resist her.
I named her Baby. Too cutesy, but all I could think of when I saw
her standing apart from her litter mates was, “Nobody puts Baby in
the corner.”

She wasn’t leash trained yet, so when I tried
to lead her home, she balked and whined. I ended up having to carry
her all the way to my apartment. By the time we reached home, it
was almost dusk. I spread old newspapers on the kitchen floor and
blocked the doorway to keep Baby from wandering. Her cries followed
me into the bathroom, where I stripped and quickly showered. When I
returned to the kitchen in pajamas, Baby was howling, loud wails of
distress.

“Shh.” I picked up her trembling body, and
she nearly wiggled out of her skin, she was so grateful. A pang of
new-mother love flooded me. “It’s okay. You’re going to have to get
used to being alone, you know. I have to work during the day.”

If I was going to break in a new pet, I
should’ve gotten her on a Friday so we’d have a couple of days
together to acclimate. I hoped she wouldn’t howl all day while I
was at work.

The pup had spilled her water and food, then
tracked through both of them so the kitchen floor was a mess. I
cleaned up, got her interested in eating her chow, then started
making my own dinner.

Baby sat on my lap as I curled up on the
couch with a dish of vegetables and pasta. She nearly knocked the
bowl from my hands in her eagerness to see where the delicious
smells were coming from. I was a hair’s breadth away from feeding
her from my hand but forced myself to practice tough love and train
her not to beg.

Cuddling with my new pet, I wondered what had
kept me from getting a dog before now. The adoration in those brown
eyes was a wonderful thing. A dog was a truer companion than most
men I’d dated. Baby was a good antidote to the pervasive sense of
loneliness I’d been feeling lately.

But later, lying in bed with my new little
buddy curled beside me, my mind wandered back down other channels,
better-to-be-forgotten corridors polished by a dark-eyed janitor
with a quirky smile.

Chapter Five

Working a second-shift job leaves a lot of
daylight hours free, assuming you don’t sleep half the day away.
Without much money to spend or friends to do things with, filling
those empty hours can be hard. I have a vague memory of being busy
all the time with school and sports, hanging out with friends,
partying. But after the accident, that old life and those friends
fell away like dead skin sloughing off. Many of the things I used
to do aren’t possible for me anymore. Simple functions I once did
with a fraction of my attention take much longer and require
concentration. If I lose focus on each step of taking a shower, for
example, I’m likely to go around all day with conditioner in my
hair.

Since I stopped going to rehab, I spend part
of every day doing physical therapy exercises. Insurance wouldn’t
cover more therapy, and I’m capable of doing the exercises by
myself. So a good portion of my day is filled with accomplishing
tasks, but that still leaves a long stretch of time between waking
up and going to work. Time to veg in front of the TV, or practice
hand-eye coordination by playing Xbox. Time to hang with the other
loafing losers in the park. Time to think about how I was never
going to go on a date with someone like Anna Stevens.

I’d seen her full name on some papers on her
desk while I was cleaning. Then I worked all weekend to try to get
that name out of my mind. Funny how it stuck like glue when there
were so many other facts I couldn’t retain for anything.

The next week I chose
not
to act like
a stalker and “accidentally” run into her at work. Instead, I went
to work at the usual time, plodded through my normal routine, went
home, slept, got up, and started the thrilling routine all over
again. The hall floors had never been so shiny. I’d never felt so
dull.

And then there was that conversation with
Lisa to think about. Old memories wiggled their way into my dreams
at night.
Chrissy.
Lisa had said things ended badly between
us, and I almost felt like I knew why, but when I tried to pin it
down, the memory skittered away like a cockroach. There were other
people from the past I probably could’ve contacted to try to learn
the answer, but honestly, I didn’t want to know. I looked up
Chrissy on Facebook but didn’t ask her to friend me. What would I
say?
Remember me, Jason Reitmiller, the guy who treated you like
crap in high school? Let’s get back in touch.

Days passed and I continued to tread water
until my legs were like lead. It’s amazing how a lot of doing
nothing can tire you out. I actually missed the survivors group,
but I couldn’t show my face there again.

U suck
, my little sister texted one
day.
U promised to take me to the new
Bloodsuckers
movie.
When?