Tell Me What You Hate About Me

40: Remember When

All I could do was wait and hope that the talisman would grant me my wish. I didn't think about the consequences of every single one I made, and this was the only one that I truly didn't care how it happened.

I was pretty sure Butterfly was ripping us off on the price of the Ginkgo memory pills, but it wasn't like I had much of a choice. She was acting very weird since she learned I had lost a little faith in myself and the talisman, but I hadn't sunk low enough to give it away like she thought I might. There were still plenty of mistakes I had to fix.

"Well, thank you for your help. I really hope these help our little situation, and I'll see you on Saturday," I said as Dominic and I headed out the door to go back to Tillamook. The little bell rang on our way out, and I wasn't looking forward to hearing it every ten seconds over the weekend and stressing that it could be my mother coming into the store.

"Remember, good vibes can cure all ailments," Butterfly said.

"What the hell does that mean?" Dominic mumbled, mostly to himself, as we walked to the car.

I shook my head. "Just ignore her. You always hated when she said weird stuff like that."

Dominic seemed to accept that and moved on. "So what are we going to do with these stupid supplements that won't do anything to help me?"

"I don't know. Do we know any old people who might want them?"

"What, like Dr. Reed?"

I grabbed my phone out of my pocket with a small laugh. "She's not old. The smoking just doesn't do her skin any favors."

Just as we spoke of her, an email from my school account came across my phone screen from Dr. Reed. Almost like the talisman (or Big Tech) planned it to happen that way.

Class,

I'm canceling class for the next week. I don't feel like teaching, and only a third of you show up to class anyway, so what's the point? Just take the online quiz I set up by next Sunday at 11:59. Or don't. Failing students always makes me smile.

Cora

I blinked a couple times. What the hell was that, Dr. Reed?

"I'd ask if you're okay since you look a little confused or angry or something like that, but I don't really care about the answer," Dominic said.

"Oh, shut up. You do care, and Dr. Reed must have started a new stage of grief or something. It really seems like she's depressed as hell," I said.

"Grief?"

"Remember? Her nephew died, and he was the reason she gave up fieldwork for teaching."

He shook his head. Right. He didn't remember.

"Maybe we should stop by and bring her something to make her feel better," I said.

"I don't think that's how that works."

"It's the thought that counts, and I really don't know what else we can do to help. It's not like I can just wish the kid back to life." I paused. Maybe I could.

No, Lindsay, and even if I could, I would probably screw it up badly. I had certainly done enough damage in the last week.

***

With a rotisserie chicken, a dozen bakery cupcakes, and a bottle of Ginkgo scam memory pills that now seemed like a really bad gift idea, Dominic and I arrived at Dr. Reed's house.

I didn't know much about grief or death or anything like that (and it seemed like a very good reason not to let anyone get too close to me in the future), but it was a reminder that Dr. Reed did have a soul under the cold walls she had built up over the years.