Chapter 20- Solitary Refinement

I looked in the mirror, searching my own eyes for some sign that I was going crazy. Insanity would be a welcome diagnosis compared to this perplexing reality I now faced. Had the whole world gone mad, or was it just me? I splashed warm water on my face and rubbed. I thought of Tracy, how she leapt fearlessly onto the homeless man's back, how she had tried to pull him off me- did she break his neck? I heard a pop, but that kind of act would land her in prison... So many unanswered questions. I began thinking my life was being directed by the producers of Lost.

Toweling off, I threw on a tee shirt and went for a walk. The farmers market around the corner was bustling with shoppers and kids playing tag. A couple of old men sat on a corner playing checkers in the morning sun. Everyone seemed so happy and oblivious to the horrors I seemed to be facing every day. I found myself walking a little slower, pausing to watch them play, soaking in each moment because deep down, I knew it couldn't last.

I felt the familiar rush of air through the vents as the train below me arrived at the station. I glanced at the stairway and felt compelled to get on the train.

I walked down the hall, glancing at the photos hanging on the dingy floral wallpaper. I have a lot of memories in this house. The time we pulled all the mattresses off the beds and made a slide down the stairway, having mud parties in Mom's flower beds, and the days when my Dad would unscrew the top of the fire hydrant so all the neighborhood kids could play in the water.

"What are you doing here?" my mother asked as she opened the door. "I don't expect you on Saturdays..." I smiled and kissed her on the cheek as I walked in the door. "Just missed you and wanted to see you." She was wearing her apron and had flour all over her hands. "Bread?" I asked, looking toward the kitchen. "Cinnamon rolls. Come help me." I followed her into the kitchen and washed my hands. Standing opposite her I began to roll the soft, sticky dough in the flour and then shape it into buns. "So who are these for?" I asked casually. She smiled as she sprinkled cinnamon lightly over the dough. "For us, for breakfast tomorrow." I looked at her suspiciously. "And..." I asked expectantly. She smiled sheepishly. "...and I thought I would give a few to Mr. Lawrence." I poked a flour covered finger at her and teased "you have a crush on that grumpy old man, don't you?" She started to blush. "He's a nice man, and he's lonely." I looked at her. Her silver hair was pulled up in a bun, wisps of dark grey and white falling around her face in a tangled mess. She had a kind, healthy face, and the creases around her eyes were deep from years of smiling. Her bright green eyes looked misty and soft, and found myself looking at her and admiring what a beautiful woman she still was. Suddenly my mind flashed, and I saw my mother's eyes, not luminous and green but dingy, pale, and yellow.  The life had been drained from them, and the skin on her face sagged across her bones.  I gasped and took a step back.  "Darling, what's the matter?" She asked.  I shook my head, feeling fuzzy and disoriented. Everything was back to normal.

Just then I heard a knock on the door. "Oh that must be Mr. Lawrence, he's early!" she began fidgeting with her hair and doing her best to wipe the flour off her apron. "Get the door, will you sweetie?" I walked down the hall, glancing at the photos hanging on the dingy floral wallpaper. I have a lot of memories in this house. The time we pulled all the mattresses off the beds and made a slide down the stairway, having mud parties in Mom's flower beds, and the days when my Dad would unscrew the top of the fire hydrant so all the neighborhood kids could play in the water. I was smiling when I opened the door, but that faded immediately. Mr. Lawrence was standing there with a bouquet of wilted daisies. Seeing me he snarled "You again?" and quickly shoved the flowers into my hands. "Your mother wanted those. Tell her I'll be at home." Without another word he began to storm off toward his house. "Harold, wait!" She came dashing out the door with her hat and shawl pulled around her shoulders. "I'm here" she patted his arm reassuringly and slid her arm though his.  Turning over her shoulder she waved at me. "You're still coming over for breakfast tomorrow, right? Be a dear and lock the front door for me!" She diverted her attention back to Mr. Lawrence and I watched as they walked off together down the tree lined street.

It was a quiet ride back to my home. I felt very alone, I couldn't stop thinking about Tracy. Arriving at my apartment I grabbed my keys and took the jeep out for a drive. The wind of the cooling evening air felt amazing and seemed to erase all my frustrations. I could smell fried food mixed with the hint of rain, and looked up at the clouds looming ominously overhead.  The wind began to pick up and I felt a few drops of rain.  I would have to be fast.  Besides, if what I assumed was accurate, there wouldn't be much to look at.

Pulling into SafeT Storage I punched my code into the keypad and drummed my fingers on the steering wheel while the door slowly opened. I saw Lou's face peer out the office window and gave him a small wave. He snorted and turned away. Not the friendliest guy.

Each small supply was intact and undisturbed. At least I didn't everything, I thought optimistically. Approaching the large unit I held my breath as I opened the door. 

I checked one of the small storage units first. After finding everything removed from my apartment I expected the supplies we placed here to be gone as well. I crossed my fingers and turned the key in the lock... It opened. I pulled the heavy door ajar and saw cases of water bottles stacked to the ceiling. To the left were a few foldable chairs, and a temporary awning that could be used for shade or protection from rain. I began to be hopeful, and quickened my steps to the other units. Each of the supplies stored in the small units were intact and undisturbed. At least I didn't lose everything. Approaching the large unit I held my breath as I opened the door. There should only have been a pair of ATVs and some blankets, but as I slid the door upward I was greeted by piles and piles of supplies. Everything that was once in my apartment was here, well organized and safe. I smiled and thought of Tracy. She was the only one who could have done this, the only one who had the code, who knew where the keys were, and the location of this unit. My smile faded as I thought of our brief conversation yesterday at work. "Do I know you?" she had said innocently. "Because I think you have me confused with someone else." The words cut into me and I left defeated and downtrodden. She had been my confidant, my strength, and I had hoped she'd one day become more.

I walked through the unit, inspecting the various items and thinking of my next steps. I wish I could know what happened, or if there was a way to restore Tracy's memory, but I didn't have a clue where to begin. As I pulled the massive door closed I reached my hands in my pocket to grab the keys. My fingers brushed a card and I pulled it out to look at it. It was the card the officer had given me that I was pulled over. I wonder...

Punching his number into my phone, I tapped out the message "How do I cure a memory lapse?" and pressed send. A text came back almost immediately. "Who's memory?" I thought about it for a moment and then responded "A close friend" his reply came as I climbed into my jeep to leave. "You already have everything you need."