Kev (28 page)

Thirty-seven days later, I woke in a hospital
in Macon, virtually all of my memories wiped away. However, I
remembered Clive, who was now sitting beside my bed, my father, who
stood at the end of my bed, my mother, standing beside my father,
Uncle Joe, standing next to my mother, and the girl, standing
beside me, holding my hand.

I did not know that Clive was Satan, and new
nothing about a plot to end all creation. I had no memory of Jesus
or the Proth Sphere, no memory of Bri or of any of the infinite
lives I had lived. I remembered nothing of other worlds or aliens,
nothing of the future and quite little of my past.

I saw the ring on the girl’s finger and felt
tears come to my eyes, realizing how much I loved her despite the
fact I had known her only a short time, at least so I thought in my
present state.

“Welcome back, Kev,” said the girl, leaning
over and kissing me. The others all came to my side.

“What happened?” I said.

They all looked at each other for a while,
and then the girl said, “You made a decision.”

“What kind of decision?” I said, somewhat
confused.

“You decided to forget, but I’m happy you did
not forget me.”

I looked at Clive. He wore a dark look,
perhaps annoyed in some way.

“What is the date?” I said.

“October eighth,” said Uncle Joe.

“Shouldn’t I be in school?” I said,
forgetting everything about making a decision, any doubt I had
about the present situation vanishing.

“Your father and I are going to take you home
for a few days with Clive, and then I will take the two of you to
school,” said my mom.

I looked at the girl, realizing that she
would not be coming with us, feeling despair creeping over me.

“Don’t worry, Kev. I’ll find you. I always
do.”

Back at school, Clive and I settled into a
routine of sorts. Although my memories of my time with Clive were
vague at best, I knew something had changed between us. He seemed
distant and depressed at times, not engaged and less eager to play,
devoting most of his time to his studies. In fact, he seemed quite
reflective, often speaking of philosophical matters like the
existence of God and the nature of knowledge, with an emphasis on
memory, something he would talk about quite often.

“Do you think if you can’t remember a thing,
you don’t know that thing, even though it is somewhere in your
mind, Kev?” he asked once.

“I don’t know. I suppose when you remember
it, you know it,” I replied.

“What do you think you know that you have
forgotten?”

“I don’t know yet. I guess I won’t know until
I remember.”

“Yeah, but what do you think you know?” he
pressed.

“I don’t know.”

“Do you know who you are?”

“I don’t know. Who am I?” I said. I felt the
little, clear cube vibrate, as it always did when I asked such
questions, but did not pull it out to examine it, having long since
given up on trying to discover its nature.

“It’s vibrating, isn’t it?” said Clive.

“Yeah,” I said.

“What do you think that means?”

“How should I know? It’s just a stupid, clear
cube.”

“I think it’s much more than that. I think it
is your memories, trying to come back to you,” said Clive.

“Yeah, well, it must be broken, because
they’re not coming back.”

“Maybe you should ask yourself other
questions,” said Clive, now much more engaged.

“Like what?”

“I don’t know, but if I did, I would tell
you. I would definitely tell you. I’m sick of waiting for you to
get your head on straight.”

“What does that mean?” I said.

“Who do you think you are?” he said.

“I told you, I don’t know.”

“I think you’re God, Kev. I think you have
forgotten you are God.”

“You’re a kook, Clive.”

“I almost believe you. Maybe none of this is
real. Maybe this is just some strange simulation and we are all
just little programs running in some predetermined way.”

“Oh, so we don’t have free will?” I said.

“Who knows? Remember you brought up free
will, Kev. I didn’t break that part of the rule.”

“What are you talking about? What rule?”

“I don’t know. I think it’s rule ten. I
wasn’t really paying attention at the time,” said Clive,
yawning.

“I have no clue what you are talking
about.”

“You probably never will at the rate you’re
going.”

“Why don’t we play The Show?” I said,
thinking this might get Clive out of his funk.

“Nah. I already know what I need to
know.”

“Chess?”

“I’m sick of games, sick of this game. Why
don’t you just remember who you are and end this thing?”

“What the heck does that mean?” I said. “What
is all this stuff about rules and games?”

“Never mind. Look, I’m going to take a nap.
Wake me when you figure something out, okay?”

Clive turned over on his bed and went to
sleep.

The year passed much the same way. I asked
Clive to stay with me for the summer a few days before summer
break, but he declined, saying I needed some time to reflect on
things and he would only be a distraction.

That summer, I spent most of my time playing
in my fort, sometimes writing in my journal, but never going back
and reading it, still uncomfortable with the thought of reading the
things the voice had told me to write, things I didn’t remember,
but knew enough about to know I didn’t want to read them.

That August, Uncle Joe brought me down to his
farm. By this time, I had completely forgotten about the girl, and
could barely remember Clive. I felt somehow disconnected from the
world, uncertain and lost. So I was when the girl came to me in the
park while I was standing at the top of the fort, reflecting on a
life I barely remembered.

“What are you doing up there, dummy?” she
said, taking me by surprise. I looked down at her, seeing her dirty
clothes and mismatched shoes, wondering if I knew her.

She climbed to the top of the fort and gave
me a soft punch on the shoulder. “Whatcha doin?” she said.

“Just thinking. What’s your name?”

She frowned. “I hoped you would remember
me.”

“I know you?” I said.

She held out her hand, showing me a ring, a
small silver band with an amethyst. It didn’t look familiar. “It’s
pretty,” I said.

“You gave it to me, Kev,” she said.

“Oh, I do know you, don’t I?” I said, feeling
bad for forgetting her, but still not remembering her at all.

I saw tears forming in her eyes before she
turned away from me, crying.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I forget things, but I
guess you know that already.”

“I know,” she said. “I just wish you wouldn’t
forget me all the time. It is a shitty thing to do. Crap. Rule
twenty-one. Rule twenty-one.”

“What is rule twenty-one?” I said,
confused.

“It’s nothing, Kev. I sometimes have potty
mouth. It’s against the rules.”

“What rules?” I said, vaguely remembering
some kid in school telling me something about some rules.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t answer that. Rule
one.”

“Well, if you can’t tell me, why are you
telling me anything at all?”

“I don’t know. I am an ass. Ugh, rule
twenty-one. Rule twenty-one.”

“Stop that.”

“I can’t help it, Kev.”

“What’s your name?” I said.

“I don’t have a name. I’m just the girl. I
wish you could remember. Maybe you could wish you could remember.
Shit. Rule twenty-six and rule twenty-one. Don’t be mad at me, Kev.
I can’t help it. I feel so hopeless.”

“Why do you feel hopeless?”

“I’m not supposed to tell you, but I’m going
to tell you anyway. You’re stuck in a loop. You need to find a way
out.”

I had heard this before, but from whom I did
not know. “What loop?”

“Kev, wish to remember everything. You have
the red cube now, don’t you? Wish to remember everything. Please,”
said the girl.

I reached in my pocket and pulled out three
small cubes, red, black and clear. I looked at the red one for a
moment and then looked at the girl, who had turned back to face me,
her cheeks wet with tears. I desperately wanted to kiss her in that
moment. I could think of nothing other than that, and forgot
everything she had said leading up until that moment. I leaned over
and kissed her.

The girl grabbed me and hugged me tight,
sobbing now.

“What’s wrong with you?” I said.

“Do you remember anything I’ve said?”

“Like what?” I said, remembering nothing she
had said.

“It’s nothing. Why don’t we go home and have
some green tea?”

“Home?”

“To Uthio Minor.”

“I live in Connecticut. Where do you live? By
the way, what is your name?”

“I don’t have a name. I just told you that.
That does it. We’re going to Uthio Minor.”

“Where is that?” I said.

“About thirty-seven billion light-years from
here.”

The world around us distorted and
disappeared. We then appeared on a beach, near an outdoor bar. I
saw hundred foot tall palm trees lining the beach. This was,
perhaps, the most beautiful place I had ever seen, familiar yet
completely foreign.

The girl walked me over to the bar and we sat
next to each other. A strange, bug-like creature about six feet
tall standing behind the bar approached and said, “He’s forgotten,
hasn’t he?”

“Yes, Brok,” said the girl.

Brok. I knew that name.

“Time for some green tea, Kev,” said Brok,
placing a glass of greenish liquid in front of me. I looked at the
girl and she nodded, so I picked up the glass and took a sip.

I heard children laughing and playing and
then heard a woman’s voice. I looked around for the source of the
voice, but saw nobody other than Brok and the girl.

“Hello, for the bazillionth time, Kev. Blah,
blah, blah, and so forth. Welcome to
The Do We Really Have to Go
Through This Yet Again Experience
,” said the voice.

“Who are you?” I said.

“I’m your fairy godmother. Now, pay
attention. Maybe it will sink in this time.”

I saw flash of light and then darkness,
followed by a complete replay of my life or lives, an infinite
number thereof. For ten seconds I knew who I was, or at least who I
had been. I did not know I was God, but I started to suspect I was.
I remembered everyone in the universes, the infinite universes,
including Clive…Satan. I knew he was trying to end all creation,
and knew that if he captured me, he would do just that. I saw
another flash of light and then appeared in the park, kneeling in
front of the girl, placing a ring on her finger. She knelt down in
front of me and said, “I love you forever.”

I found myself sitting at the bar, Brok and
the girl looking at me expectantly.

“Well?” said the girl.

“Well, what?” I said, having no memory of
anything that had happened.

“It’s pointless,” said the girl, looking at
Brok.

“Hey, do either of you know my friend,
Clive?” I said, now remembering Clive and wondering where he might
be.

The girl looked at me, clearly surprised.
“You remember Clive?”

“Sure. He’s my best friend,” I said. “Do you
know him?”

“What else do you remember?” said Brok.

“I don’t know. Why are you looking at me like
that, Brok?”

“What else do you remember, Kev?” said the
girl, squeezing my arm.

“I don’t know. Not much, really. Why?” I
said.

The girl broke into tears, and I tried to
comfort her, but nothing worked.

“Maybe you should get Clive,” said Brok.

“No, it’s pointless. He’s not going to
remember. Maybe I should just take him back to the park and let him
live his life. Maybe he’ll figure it out on his own,” said the
girl.

“What are you two talking about?” I said.

Ignoring me, Brok said, “Maybe you’re
right.”

The girl took my hand and said, “Goodbye,
Kev. I love you. I hope you figure it out. I wish I could be with
you to help you, but it is far too painful for me. I know that is
selfish of me, but I’m just not strong enough. Please understand.”
Again, the world around me distorted, and then I found myself
standing alone at the top of the fort, wondering what Uncle Joe was
doing, thinking this might be a good time to go fly some
planes.

Several years later, I returned to Macon, now
sixteen years old. Clive had transferred to another school that
year, some place in Hawaii, and although I remembered him to some
extent, I didn’t remember much. I had no memory of the girl and
absolutely no understanding of who I was.

I went to the park every day, feeling it my
duty to go there, feeling like someone was going to meet me there,
and meet me there she did, but only on the last day of my
visit.

I had been sitting on one of the benches in
the park, thinking about my parents. They had died that year in a
car accident, their car struck by a semi hauling a shipment of
maple syrup. I had been living with my aunt, doing my best to cope
with their loss, but found myself inconsolable.

She came to me then, now older, beautiful
beyond compare, angelic and pure, and I remembered her and
immediately broke down, my grief unbearable.

She took me to Riddent, to the Lost Hope
Hotel, where we got married and spent three beautiful and peaceful
days together. We talked about many things, but she shed no light
on who I was or what was going on. She never mentioned the rules,
never broke the rules, and never expressed any amount of sadness.
She had accepted things and was determined to see things through,
for better or for worse.

In that time, I remembered some things, but
chose not to ask her questions. I knew that questions would only
make her sad and wanted to just be with her and show her how much I
loved her.