screen, when he looks back at her and sees the way she watches him, he pulls out his stool and sits again. “Friends, Maris, also explain.”
She slides her coffee cup to the side. “Why don’t we take that walk outside then? I’ve been cooped up in here all morning.”
“They call it hysterical amnesia,” Jason explains at the water’s edge. July’s sun bleaches the sand before them. “My doctor says it happens following a traumatic incident.”
“You don’t remember it happening then?”
“No, I actually do remember most of it. This type of amnesia blocks only parts of the trauma.” He stops and picks up a stone on the beach. “It’s a psychological defense, suppressing the emotion from, well, from a day like that.”
“And last night something came back?”
Jason throws the stone out into the water. “It did.”
“You mean you remembered something for the first time after all these years?”
He nods and begins walking again. “The scope of the amnesia depends on a lot of things. How severe the trauma was, how physically close I came to it, how psychologically close, post-trauma care.”
“I’d guess you rated pretty high in all those.”
“You’d be right. Most of that day is clear to me, but lately I’ve been remembering some of the missing pieces.”
Maris puts her hand on his arm. She thinks of his frenzy right after stopping Kyle the night before. Visions of the collision had flashed in his mind. He was back in the accident that killed his brother. “The emotions flash back too, don’t they?”
“That’s what you saw last night. It can get pretty intense.”
They reach the rocky ledge at the end of the beach and Jason bends to pick up a conch shell, its inside whorls of pink.
“I wish there was some way I could have helped,” Maris says.
“You did. It helped just to have you there.” He puts the seashell in her hand. “You kept me from completely losing it with Kyle.”
Maris looks up at him. Hidden somewhere behind that pain, can she still find some of the beach friend she once knew, and danced with, and said goodbye to on a deck twelve years ago? His whole life can’t stem from only one day now.
“What?” he asks.
“So that wasn’t your normal temperament then?”
He laughs and she is glad to see a little of the old Jason return. “No. I haven’t felt like that in years. I thought the memory loss was permanent. It’s really sudden the way it’s coming back.”
“Why now?” They turn and walk back down the beach. The sun rises further in the sky and families stake out their spots on the sand, setting up bright umbrellas and opening sand chairs. “After all these years.”
“I know exactly why. My doctor warned me this could happen under the right circumstances. The first circumstance is that I’m tired.”
“Rest is so important, Jason.”
“I know. But I’ve been looking for a place to move my studio and thought I might move it here. It’s a big job cleaning out the old barn. And I’m bogged down with work. So fatigue plays one part. The rest is that for the first time, I’m spending the summer here at my brother’s haunts.”
“Facing memories?”
He nods. “The doctors call them cues. They trigger my mind to remember. There’s really no way to control it, except to get through it.” He stops and throws a piece of driftwood far out into the water.
“Or leave it behind?”
“That’s always an option.”
Maris crouches down and lifts a piece of seaweed from the high tide line. Sea glass glistens amidst a few stones and sun-bleached shells. “When I was in high school, I went through a phase when I was really missing my mother. And I’d get so sad and couldn’t focus. There was a horse stable in town, and my father would take me horseback riding, to help.” She stands, squinting into the sun.
“They say animals are therapeutic.”
“It’s true,” she says as they continue walking. The boardwalk stretches before them.
She slides her coffee cup to the side. “Why don’t we take that walk outside then? I’ve been cooped up in here all morning.”
“They call it hysterical amnesia,” Jason explains at the water’s edge. July’s sun bleaches the sand before them. “My doctor says it happens following a traumatic incident.”
“You don’t remember it happening then?”
“No, I actually do remember most of it. This type of amnesia blocks only parts of the trauma.” He stops and picks up a stone on the beach. “It’s a psychological defense, suppressing the emotion from, well, from a day like that.”
“And last night something came back?”
Jason throws the stone out into the water. “It did.”
“You mean you remembered something for the first time after all these years?”
He nods and begins walking again. “The scope of the amnesia depends on a lot of things. How severe the trauma was, how physically close I came to it, how psychologically close, post-trauma care.”
“I’d guess you rated pretty high in all those.”
“You’d be right. Most of that day is clear to me, but lately I’ve been remembering some of the missing pieces.”
Maris puts her hand on his arm. She thinks of his frenzy right after stopping Kyle the night before. Visions of the collision had flashed in his mind. He was back in the accident that killed his brother. “The emotions flash back too, don’t they?”
“That’s what you saw last night. It can get pretty intense.”
They reach the rocky ledge at the end of the beach and Jason bends to pick up a conch shell, its inside whorls of pink.
“I wish there was some way I could have helped,” Maris says.
“You did. It helped just to have you there.” He puts the seashell in her hand. “You kept me from completely losing it with Kyle.”
Maris looks up at him. Hidden somewhere behind that pain, can she still find some of the beach friend she once knew, and danced with, and said goodbye to on a deck twelve years ago? His whole life can’t stem from only one day now.
“What?” he asks.
“So that wasn’t your normal temperament then?”
He laughs and she is glad to see a little of the old Jason return. “No. I haven’t felt like that in years. I thought the memory loss was permanent. It’s really sudden the way it’s coming back.”
“Why now?” They turn and walk back down the beach. The sun rises further in the sky and families stake out their spots on the sand, setting up bright umbrellas and opening sand chairs. “After all these years.”
“I know exactly why. My doctor warned me this could happen under the right circumstances. The first circumstance is that I’m tired.”
“Rest is so important, Jason.”
“I know. But I’ve been looking for a place to move my studio and thought I might move it here. It’s a big job cleaning out the old barn. And I’m bogged down with work. So fatigue plays one part. The rest is that for the first time, I’m spending the summer here at my brother’s haunts.”
“Facing memories?”
He nods. “The doctors call them cues. They trigger my mind to remember. There’s really no way to control it, except to get through it.” He stops and throws a piece of driftwood far out into the water.
“Or leave it behind?”
“That’s always an option.”
Maris crouches down and lifts a piece of seaweed from the high tide line. Sea glass glistens amidst a few stones and sun-bleached shells. “When I was in high school, I went through a phase when I was really missing my mother. And I’d get so sad and couldn’t focus. There was a horse stable in town, and my father would take me horseback riding, to help.” She stands, squinting into the sun.
“They say animals are therapeutic.”
“It’s true,” she says as they continue walking. The boardwalk stretches before them.
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