The Uber pulled up around the corner of the high rise that Charlie was headed to. The driver knew better than to pull up in front of the building. Charlie appreciated that and tipped accordingly. He stepped out of the car into the slush and made his way to the drop-off.
The Chesterton Heights was a fancy building. It was dressed up in art deco, hard angles and straight lines. The short red carpet was attended by a doorman. Inside, everything that wasn’t leafed in gold was lit in it. The lobby bar was off to the left, reception to the right. Charlie could feel the eyes on him as he approached the elevator at the back of the lobby and pushed the call button. His reflection shone off the back of the elevator car as he stepped in and punched the button for the 5th floor. Room 522 was at the back of the building. Charlie figured that it must have a pretty great view of Chesterton. He knocked on the door and waited to be let in. No door chain this time, just a room full of men in sports jackets with conspicuously gun-shaped bulges in their pockets. Charlie just hoped they had a USB-A cable. One of the men led Charlie to a recliner near the center of the room. A second man brought a terminal over and handed Charlie the business end of a USB-A cable. Charlie smiled and relaxed. It was good to be around professionals for a change. The cable connected and the foot rest raised.
Charlie settled in for a easy drop off.
His reverie was interrupted half an hour later by a cold steel muzzle pressed against his head under the port.
“Where’s the rest of it?”
Charlie looked up at man holding the gun to his head. The man was older, crows feet around his eyes and grey hair pulling away from his temples. His black suit was clean and pressed, red necktie in a half Windsor knot over a white shirt. Not a fancy man, but a professional.
“Come on, man.” Charlie put the feet down on the recliner and sat up. “What would I do with a courier file? If you’re not getting what you expect you need to take it up with the shithead down in Midwood. I’m just delivering here.”
“Don’t fuck with me, Charlie.”
Charlie squinted his eyes at the man. He knew the man’s face, but couldn’t place his name. The professional pressed his gun ever so slightly harder against the courier’s head. Charlie turned towards him, aligning the muzzle with his forehead. “You want to clean me, you need to shoot here. Put a round in the metal side, it’ll just scramble the RAM. A good runner could reproduce whatever they wanted out of it. Hit the meat side, lights go out. Twenty minutes later the backup battery dies and all the RAM wipes by itself. If I ain’t got what you want, you need to take it up with your contact. If you’re gonna take me out, do it clean. If we’re done here, would you please wipe me, pay me, and send me on my fucking way.”
The professional sighed and put his piece away. “I’m not going to shoot you, Charlie. Just protocol, you know.” He turned to the operator, “Wipe him. Call Tony and have him bring John in.”
•••
It was a sunny day when Charlie went off to Boot Camp. The bus pulled up and the recruits filed in. He wondered if it was true that they’d shave his head when he got to Fort Jackson. Mom and Dad were there outside the recruiter’s office. Dad was smiling. Charlie wondered if he had ever seen his Dad smile like that.
Mom wore her blue dress with the shawl.
Her skin let off a pale glow in the sunlight. Blond hair was pulled back in a ponytail and laid over her shawl. Dad slapped Charlie on the shoulder, “So, going in as an Information Technology Specialist? Couldn’t cut it as Infantry?”
Dad laughed at his own joke.
“Yeah, Twenty-Five Bravo MOS, if I pass the school.” Charlie chuckled and rubbed the shoulder where his dad had hit him.
Dad’s joke didn’t make much sense to Charlie, but it was nice to hear the old man celebrate him. Mom reached up and hugged Charlie around the neck. “We’re both so proud of you. Call when you get a chance. We’ll wait up for it.” Charlie pulled back after the hug and looked at his Mom’s face. Her eyes were a paler blue than normal. The creeping crows feet at their corners were emphasized by her smile. Somehow he had never noticed the grey creeping up from her scalp to the ends of her hair. Mom felt smaller in Charlie’s arms than he remembered. Dad nodded and laughed, “Of course! I wanna hear how rough they are on you.” Dad never aged. He was the same mountain Charlie had known when he was a boy, though now Charlie stood shoulder to shoulder with him. Dad had taken to shaving his head. The caldera was bare. His burgundy button up was still tucked neatly under his brown leather belt. Charlie nodded, grabbed his bag, and stepped onto the bus. From his seat, he saw his mother and father waving.
Mom covered her mouth as she coughed into her hand. Dad stood beside her, one hand waving and the other at his hip.
•••
The wipe hadn’t left Charlie feeling as bad as when he left Max’s. That was the way of it; some were rough, some were easy. Six hundred dollars richer, Charlie picked up the bracelet from the Midwood jeweler’s and caught an Uber to his parents’. Charlie couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen Mom. But today was her birthday and he had a present. The bracelet had ended up being abut four-sixty after tax, and with all the driving he had been doing today he was down a bit over five hundred dollars. He’d make it up next week. Today was special. The door to his parents’ house was red. Charlie had the bracelet case wrapped in a paper sandwich bag from his lunch and tucked into his pocket. He knocked. Charlie didn’t feel giddy very often, but he couldn’t help it today. It was his Mom’s birthday and she was going to be surprised. Dad opened the door. He was hunched over his walker, a hill of a man. His burgundy shirt was buttoned unevenly, loose over his black slacks. Dad’s eyes rose shakily from Charlie’s chest to his face. The old man’s eyes widened and his sagging face broke into a smile.
“Charlie, what are you doing here?” Dad backed away from the door, “Come in.” Charlie smiled through the shock of seeing his dad like this. He walked into the living room. Papers and junk covered the floor. Unopened mail covered the end table around the desk lamp.
“Hey! I came to see Mom, it’s her birthday! Did you forget?”
Dad’s whole body sagged. He scooted, step by step over to Mom’s easy chair and rolled his body from the walker into it. “Your Mom. Oh…”
Charlie looked around, “Where is she?”
Dad reached for the TV remote, “She’s… She’s out. She’ll be back tonight.”
Charlie’s face fell.
“Oh. I’ll wait for her then.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Dad’s words were firmer than Charlie was ready for. Even in this deteriorated state, his old man’s words gave him pause. Charlie lifted his chin and responded.
“I got her a present.” Charlie insisted, “I want to give it to her.”
Dad looked up. Charlie could see decisions pass by his father’s face, the old man’s eyes tracked them as they went. “It’ll be late when she gets back. Give it to me, I’ll make sure she gets it.”
“No.” Charlie was adamant. “I want to see Mom. Where is she?”
Charlie could see the tears forming in his father’s eyes. “Don’t do this. Don’t ask.”
Charlie stood over his father’s recliner and leaned forward, clutching the handles of his father’s walker. Charlie put his face as close to his father’s as he could, spittle raining on his father’s cheek. “Where is she, Dad.”
Dad shirked from Charlie’s advance. His arms tucked against his chest and hot tears rolled down his face. “Please, Charlie. Don’t”
Charlie’s voice was acid and anger.
He whispered, “I asked you a question.”
His father’s voice shook as he responded. “Your mother died while you were in the Army, Charlie. I don’t know why you keep forgetting.”
The napkin wrapped jewelry box fell out of Charlie’s pocket. His nails dug crescents into the foam handholds of his father’s walker. Tears fell unbiden from Charlie’s red eyes. In a rage, he threw his father’s walker across the living room. It skittered across the papers on the floor and crashed into the wall. Charlie screamed, wordlessly, into his father’s face. Dad’s knees pulled up to his chest, his hands covered his eyes. Charlie’s face turned red. Blood red. Volcanic red.
•••
It was late that night when Charlie got back to Midwood. He kicked the door to Max’s body shop open, eyes were red and wet. His sinuses were tight and he breathed deep through his mouth. His chest felt like someone was sitting on it. Max looked up, no hint of surprise crossed his face. “Welcome back Charlie. Stayed open just for you.”
Charlie felt the day’s memory in his mind. It burned when he touched it. Bits dripped between his fingers as he threw them heavily into his chip. Charlie had to get the memory out. He couldn’t live with this. This was white hot and toxic and Charlie needed it gone.
He sat in the chair, grabbed the USB-A plug and put it in his head.
“Wipe it.”
Max sighed, “You sure?”
“Fucking wipe it, dammit.”
Max nodded and punched a few keys on the terminal. “Before I clean ya, what’d you get your mom?”
“Flowers.” Charlie lied. // ED JACOBS
Check out Part 1 & Part 2 of Ed Jacobs’ ‘Forget Me Not’ in the archives at kitsapsmokestack.org
[Illustration by Nick Sledge]
