Six Months Later by Natalie D. Richards Read Free Book Online Page A

over from the hospital, but my mom only sniffled harder into her tissue.
    So here I am.
    “Chloe?” she asks.
    Crap. That’ll be noted for sure. Excessive pause before answering her question.
    “Well, it’s not like I have anything to complain about. I’m going to be able to get into pretty much any college out east. Plus, I’m dating Blake, who’s great.”
    “Oh, really?” She doesn’t look surprised. She looks like she’s feigning surprise and it’s…weird. All of this is just weird. “Have you and Blake been together long?”
    “Oh, I don’t know…” Which is the God’s honest truth.
    “Would you like to tell me about him?”
    Yeah, I’d love to. Except I can’t because I don’t know a darned thing that I didn’t read in my yearbook or the school paper.
    I don’t want to say that though. There is something in the set of Dr. Kirkpatrick’s jaw that’s different from last time. And I’ll bet it’s got everything to do with the new report in my chart, the one that was probably faxed over from the neurologist. Somehow I’m betting giant memory lapses rank a wee bit higher than anxiety episodes on the how-screwed-up-is-your-patient scale.
    Before, I was a typical angsty teenager. Now I’m a real case.
    “Actually, I was hoping I could talk about losing my memories.”
    She smiles a little. Just a little. I can tell she’s pleased though. Point for me. “Sure. Why don’t you start by telling me a little more about it.”
    I bite my lip and do my best to look thoughtful. Truthfully, I don’t need to think about this. I thought about it all the way here. If I tell her too much, it will destroy everything. They’ll start talking in-patient therapy and medication, and I can kiss my senior year good-bye.
    I don’t know how I became the girl with the killer SAT scores, but I’m not stupid. This is my ticket to my own perch in a chair like Dr. Kirkpatrick’s. I’m not about to throw it away.
    I take a breath and tilt my head, schooling my expression to sincerity. “I feel busy. So busy sometimes that I’m starting to lose track of things. Sometimes I forget so many things it’s scary.”
    “Things at school?”
    “Conversations, mostly,” I say, forcing a mild look onto my face. “Social stuff.”
    “Do you still have time for your friends?” she asks, searching for something on my chart. She must find it because her eyes pop up to meet mine again. “Do you still see Maggie?”
    Maggie.
    “No,” I say, swallowing hard. “No, Maggie and I don’t talk much anymore. Too busy.”
    She sits back at this, watching me while a minute or two ticks by. “It sounds like you aren’t happy with how busy things are, Chloe.”
    I nod, my mouth still thick and dry at the thought of my best friend. My ex-best friend, I guess.
    “What do you think you can do to change things?”
    “I don’t know. But I want to do something about it. About the forgetting thing mostly. I was hoping there’d be an exercise that might help.”
    “That’s a great idea,” she says, as I knew she would. She loves exercises. “If you’re open to the idea, we can try one now. Just sit back and close your eyes for me.”
    It’s a comfortable chair. Probably purchased with this exact kind of exercise in mind. I close my eyes and follow her instructions to let my mind drift a little. To let go of my classes one by one. Then the hospital and the tests.
    It sounds like nonsense, but sometimes it works. I saw it in my elective psychology class last year. And now, I’m feeling it myself, loose and warm around the edges, kind of lost in a soft limbo.
    “Now, I’m going to say a few words. I want you to pretend you’re one of those old slide projectors or those viewfinder toys where you flip through picture discs.”
    “I had one of those,” I say. Mom bought them for long car rides to the beach.
    “Good. I want you to pretend you’re looking into one of those right now. When I say a word, think of an image. Just