The Persistence of Memory: America Under Attack

Part Five

I dropped into my desk chair and answered the Skype call from "Captain Wilson".

"Hi Mom," I said, catching my breath. The sound of her ringtone had brought me running to my bedroom from the kitchen, still clutching a half-buttered slice of toast. "How's the war? You winning?"

"Which war is that, Honey?"

"I don't know," I said with a shrug. I wanted to ask where she was and what she was doing and when she was coming home, but she was an Air Force intelligence officer. She wasn't allowed to give those details. So I kept my questions vague. "Whichever war you are fighting in."

"Oh, THAT war. Well, we're still fighting it, which means we haven't lost it yet, which means we might even have a shot at winning it. So, I'd say it's going pretty good. How about you? Are you winning your wars?"

"The only war I'm fighting is the one to catch the bus so I don't have to ride my bike to school like a fifth grader. I don't think I like my chances, but it could still go either way. Dad and Tanya are on their way to Columbia with Ollie, so I can't catch a ride."

"Oh, that reminds me. When are you going to go trade in that learner's permit for a real driver's license? You're sixteen now..."

"I'm not sure," I said, pretending it was no big deal. "Maybe tonight if practice is canceled. I already aced the online practice tests, and I can parallel park the van, so I'm probably as ready as I'll ever be."

"Hi Mrs. Wilson," Susan said walking into the camera view. "If he passes his driving exam today, maybe I'll let him take me downtown tonight for dinner. There's a new restaurant on Broad Street, and I hear their shrimp and grits are killer!"

I looked at my step-sister like she had grown a third arm. Whatever her reasons were for suddenly being friendly couldn't be good.

"I don't know, Susan," my mother said, apparently seeing and misreading my expression. "Charleston traffic at dinner time might be a tall order for a new driver."

"Time's up," I said, reaching for the mouse. I hovered the cursor over the End Call button. "I'll send you a message later and let you know how things went, if I don't get detention for being late."

"Bye Mrs. Wilson," Susan said with an exaggerated smile.

"Bye Captain Mom," I added.

"I love you, honey! Good luck with your driving test. Don't crash into anything."

"Mom! You're going to jinx me!"

She waved and then touched the corner of her little black-rimmed hat in a salute as I hit the End Call button.

I turned and looked up at Susan, the red-haired devil-girl who had made a four-year hobby of stabbing me in the back so she could make it up to me and then stab me again. Burn me a thousand times shame on you, burn me a thousand and one times, shame on me I thought.

"I owe you an apology, Tommy. Sorry, Thomas," she added correcting herself.

"Apology accepted, Susie. I mean Susan," I said, intentionally calling her the name she hated. I winced at the growl of the school bus' diesel engine coming down the street. "Gotta go! If you hear from Ollie or our parents first, tell my Dad I'll be home right after school so he can take me to my driving test."

"No need," Susan said, holding up a car key. "Dad left me this so that I could use his car tonight. Looks like I'm your ride."

"That's not going to happen. I'll just take the test another night."

"Jeez, Thomas, will you listen to yourself? I don't blame you for not trusting me, but I swear on my life, I'm being sincere. Can I please drive you to school so we can talk about this?"

"Wow," I said. "You flip sides faster than a spinning quarter. The only reason you're even talking to me right now is because Ollie's not around and you're bored. Well go find a different toy, 'cause I'm not getting into a car with you. I'll ride my bike."

"Tommie, please. I'm sorry. I'm sorry for everything. I've been a total bitch to you and I know now that you didn't deserve it. Please, let me drive you."

I gave Susan a suspicious glance and then opened the closet door. "Nothing in here," I said, flipping through the hanging trousers and shirts. I searched the top of my desk and made a show of moving a few books around to see behind them. "Where is it? Where's the camera? What? No video? You are getting audio, at least, right? This should give you plenty of sound bites to edit and rearrange. I'm sure you'll get tons of likes and shares on Facebook with it. Let me see your phone. I'm dying to know what app you used last time."

Susan didn't move except to blink away the tears that were suddenly filling her eyes. She wordlessly dug her phone from her pocket and offered it to me.

I snatched it from her and held it up to my mouth, like I was talking into a microphone. "You are right about one thing, though. You have been a bitch to me, and I never deserved it-- not from you. So if this is the one time you are actually being honest with me, it's a real shame, because you've trained me not to believe you. Now, I'm out of time. Good bye." I dropped her phone on my desk and slung my backpack over my left shoulder.

By the time I made it down the driveway on my bike, I was gasping for breath like I had been riding hard for an hour. My pulse had nothing to do with the heavy backpack or physical exertion. Susan and Oliver had been tormenting me for four years, and this was the first time I had ever stood up to her. I wouldn't have stood up to Oliver like that, of course, but Susan was a different story. I owed her nothing, and had finally reached the end of my patience with her. Susan had come between my brother and me just like her mother, Tanya, had come between my parents. I had more than enough reasons to hate her.

Even so, standing up to her was one of the hardest thing I had ever done. It shouldn't have been, but speaking to her like that made me feel a little queasy and more than a little sad. She was a year older and while she wasn't exactly Hollywood's idea of beautiful, she was beautiful to me. By the time my father had married her mother, I was already in love with her. If I'm perfectly honest, Susan sank her talons into my heart the first time I laid eyes on her, four year earlier.

Lost in those memories as I pedaled, the fifteen minute ride to school seemed to pass much quicker. I slowed down a little before I reached the school to cool down. The breeze felt good, and I took a moment to enjoy the beauty of the Spanish-moss draped oaks and even the hint of low-tide-marsh that rode on the wind.

Thirteen and a half minutes after leaving my house, I locked my bike to the stand at the school's gymnasium entrance and made it to my first class with minutes to spare. Susan had sent me a text, but I turned my phone off without reading it. I even saw her in the hallway later on my way to the locker rooms, but I made it to the boys' lockers before she could catch up to me.