Tales

"Alright, Suzie," the shadow said, "Rise and shine."

The blinds raised in a cacophony her wrinkled ears shuttered against while the piercing sunlight rushed through to fill the room in harsh yellows and oranges. Suzie looked at the bland ceiling above her, the sixty tiles she had memorized had not changed since the day before. At least, she thought it was the day before; she could never be certain anymore. It might have even been two years since she last counted them.

"What's the day, Margerie?" she asked of the shadow.

He laughed, "It's Friday, Mrs. Smith."

She looked at him and chuckled at her own frustrating memory.

"I'm sorry, William, I forgot that Margerie left," she said.

William blinked, but chose to remain silent. She knew that there was something unsaid, that she had made another error of memory. Hell, he might not even have remembered who Margerie was. But that was silly; Margerie was a sweetheart and nobody forgets a sweetheart. Suzie looked at the flowers beyond the barred window and wondered where she had gone to.

"You want pancakes, Suzie? You always liked pancakes."

Confused, she said, "No, Margerie, I detest the things."

"Aw," William replied, "You were just telling me yesterday how much you wanted pancakes."

Suzie finally sat up and looked at the thick covers over her lap, "Don't be silly, Margerie; I'd never say such things." She added after a pause, "What time is it?"

William looked at her and smiled, "Breakfast, Mrs. Smith."

She looked down at her hands, resting like dead leaves on the covers, and noticed the discolorations of age and the purple veins running through the fragile skin. She remembered all the things she had done with those hands before they became so and tried to remember when they had begun to age. She couldn't remember. All that came to her mind was the time in the garden where she sliced her wrist on a rosebush thorn. She remembered not feeling any pain, but looking, astonished, at the thick gush of blood that poured out. She cried out- maybe, she didn't remember-and went to the hospital where they fixed her up. At that point, she remembered sitting in a bed and looking down at her hands, much like she was doing now. The only difference was the steady flow of tears. For the life of her, Suzie couldn't remember why she had been crying.

She flipped her palm up into the air and examined the large scar across her wrist.

"How 'bout some waffles, huh?" William asked.

"No, Margerie," she said, still looking at her frail limbs, "I think I'd like some pancakes."

He helped her up without another word and walked her into the bathroom. It was embarrassing, she thought, that the young man thought she couldn't even do that on her own. She tried to resist and to tell him to leave her be for a few moments, but he seemed to expect every word and every resistance as if he'd been through it a thousand times before.

In the middle of a particularly humiliating scene, she told William, "I think I'd just like to take a walk before breakfast. Would that be okay?"

"Sure," answered William, who had stopped smiling at some point.

Before much longer, she found herself in the fresh air, being walked around by William. Or was it Margerie; she couldn't remember. She looked at him and the tight grip he had on her arm and she wrenched it away.

"I'm not that old, you know," she protested, "I'm still perfectly capable of walking."

"Alright, Mrs. Smith," William replied, seeming a little annoyed.

"Isn't it a little early for you to be getting upset at me, Joseph?"

She looked up, but he was gone. She sighed; time was a fragile thing that she couldn't control or understand anymore. She was still outside, but something had happened. She shrugged it off; might as well get that fresh air and exercise the doctors told her she needed. Besides, she wanted to visit home and see if anyone was about. It wasn't far-only a few blocks-and, even though the doctors would yell at her for doing it, she was more than capable of making the walk on her own.

She tried to remember what day Margarie had said it was and came to the conclusion that it had to be Saturday and that she had to be coming home from something. Was it work or school or a meeting? She couldn't remember, not that it even mattered.

"Dad?" she called as she walked through the front door.

It had been fairly cold out and she could feel the warmth of a welcoming fire to her right, in the living room. She didn't want to go in there, though, because she could smell the alcohol. Perhaps it would be best if she'd just go up to her room and do her homework. She didn't. Instead, she spied in on her father, who was sitting in the huge leather chair, facing the fire like an emperor looking out at the burning ruins of a great nation. In his hand was a drink, clear and brown and almost empty.

"Dad?" she whispered tentatively.

"Go upstairs and leave me alone," the emperor demanded.

Suzie hung her head low and turned away.

Behind her was Joseph's room. She walked in and saw that Joseph was packing up his things, as if he was going on vacation.

"Dammit, Joey," she said in tears, "How can you do this to me?"

"Shut up, mother," he replied in a steady tone, "I have nothing else to say to you."

He didn't even turn to face her; he just kept packing. She tried to get closer, but he busied himself in other parts of the room, never changing his expression or determination.

"But... I love you, Joey..."

"No, mother, you only think you do," he said as evenly as before, "You don't know anything."

"Mrs. Smith?"

Suzie opened her eyes and saw William standing over her, the sunlight casting a bright aura behind him. It took her a moment to realize that she was on the ground.

"What am I doing on the floor, Margerie?" she asked.

"You tripped, but you're alright."

He helped her to her feet and started to walk her to the door, only a few feet away.

"What about the pancakes?" she asked.

"Pancakes?" William repeated, "It's just after dinnertime, Suzie; you can't have pancakes after dinner!"

They slowly walked back to Suzie's room. The whole time she was trying to remember what had happened, but it was all a blur. She remembered a rosebush, a tiled ceiling and a fireplace, but she couldn't relate them to each other. They were just jumbled images left over from her shattered memory. Oh well, it would all be clearer in the morning.

As William tucked her into bed, she asked, "Where did Margerie go?"

William sighed and kissed Suzie on the forehead. "She'll visit you in your dreams," he told her.

She closed her eyes and slept, but couldn't remember any dreams by the time she opened her eyes again. She could see a shadow moving about in the darkness and was frightened for a moment. She pulled the covers up to her chin and, with childlike trepidation, watched the shadow with unmoving terror.

"Alright, Suzie," the shadow said, "Rise and shine."

The blinds raised in a cacophony her wrinkled ears shuttered against while the piercing sunlight rushed through to fill the room in harsh yellows and oranges. Suzie looked at the bland ceiling above her, the sixty tiles she had memorized had not changed since the day before. At least, she thought it was the day before; she could never be certain anymore. It might have even been two years since she last counted them.

"What's the day, Margerie?" she asked of the shadow.

He laughed, "It's Tuesday, Mrs. Smith."