Change Places with Me(39)
“She called me Rose.”
Dr. Star snapped off the blue light.
“You were happy, Rose, weren’t you?”
“I still am,” she said, in her despair.
CHAPTER 25
“Dr. Star,” she said, “you have to fix this.”
“Mm?”
“I can’t—I don’t know—”
“Rose. Take a deep breath.”
She did, but it felt like no air entered her lungs. “So what happens now? Do we just reverse the procedure?” I’ll simply go back into the glass coffin, she thought.
“There’s no reversing it. I am sorry.”
She thought she hadn’t heard Dr. Star correctly. “You’re sorry . . . about what?”
“Reversal isn’t possible, Rose. It’s not as though we removed pieces of you like books out of a library, and we can just put them back on the shelves. We fundamentally altered your physiological responses to your memories.”
No reversal . . . fundamentally altered . . . What had been done to her? What was she going to do with the feelings Rose wasn’t even supposed to have, now or ever again? “Dr. Star . . . what’s me and what’s ME?”
“I don’t follow—”
“Okay. . . . Okay. We can’t reverse it.” She breathed more giant gulps of air, as Dr. Star had instructed her to do. Why wasn’t the air getting to where it was supposed to go? “Just do it again,” she said finally. “Put on the red light—let’s pick new things from the salad bar. . . .”
“Rose, it’s not so simple.”
“You have to!” she cried out. And then, more softly: “Please, I need the red light.” Oh God. The blue light had turned her into a crazy person. A couple of years ago, walking on Belle Heights Drive, a woman heading toward her was yelling nonstop, cursing up a storm. But when she passed Clara, she looked right at her and said sweetly, “Have a nice day, darlin’.”
“There is an option available, upon request.” Dr. Star was scrutinizing something on her computer.
“What is it? What?”
“A refresher. It’s not a ‘fix,’ but it might help. We can reinforce the idea that you never had Memory Enhancement.”
“Yes. Good.”
“You’ll remember that you tried it once but it didn’t take. It’ll become a casual anecdote of your past. You’ll tell people you went for Memory Enhancement but it didn’t work—because of your exceptional strength.”
“Sure, okay, fine.” Get on with it, she thought. It was too much for her, what she was feeling on one side, and who she was supposed to be on the other. Rose.
“We won’t use the zoo this time, and we’ll put a special emphasis on the weather, maybe double your dose of Alitrol—”
“Triple it.” She leaned back into the elephant foam. “I’m ready.”
Dr. Star frowned. “We have to wait at least seventy-two hours.”
She felt the color drain from her face. “No! It has to be now!” She tried to lower her voice. “Is it the money? I have a job, I’ll pay, even if it takes a really long time.”
“It’s not that, Rose. Refreshers are actually free if breakthrough occurs within two weeks. Listen to me carefully. You know how when you get a perma-braid, you can’t do anything to your hair for several days?”
“This has nothing to do with my hair.” She put some hair behind one ear but not the other.
“Just an example,” Dr. Star said. “After a perma-braid, your hair needs to rest. You’ve just been under the blue light. Your brain needs to rest.”
“It’s rested.”
“I don’t make the rules, Rose.”
“Okay”—she counted on her fingers—“that’s Wednesday. I’ll stay here until then.”
“Excuse me?”
“The chair won’t mind.” She patted the arms.
“Rose, we have other clients.”
“I’ll wait in the other room. I won’t be in the way.”
“You can’t just live here, Rose. Besides, I said at least seventy-two hours, which means, more precisely, Thursday. Which isn’t available,” she said quickly. “We’re booked solid. The earliest we have is Saturday, two p.m.”
“A week—a whole week?”
“More like six days. And today is nearly over, isn’t it?”
No, today wasn’t nearly over—there was the whole evening to get through, and the night, the long night. “Wait, I have an idea. What about Memory Lane in Spruce Hills? Maybe they can see me Thursday.”
Dr. Star took a deep breath. “There have been some . . . issues at Memory Lane. It’s closed. Temporarily. Saturday, two p.m. is the earliest. It might not be me that day but a different Dr. Star. Do you still want the appointment?”
“Totally.”
“Well, I just thought, because you and I have gotten to know each other, you might want to wait for my availability.”
God, no! she almost shouted, but—did Dr. Star sound a little hurt? Someone who was kind and had a big heart might think so. “I’d prefer you, but it would be really, really hard to wait longer. Is that okay?”