The Memory Room

Vegas

Her head is resting on his shoulder as they land in Las Vegas. He is comforting her but he is really saying something more. He is saying that he never wants to lose her. He gently whispers as much in her ear as they start to the hotel.
​Vegas is as busy on a Sunday evening as it is on a Friday night. Complete chaos. They check in to the MGM and make their way to the twenty-eighth floor. The lights of a fake Manhattan shine across the Strip as Cait shuts the blinds. "John, let's just get some sleep before we venture to the disabled center."
​Again they share the shower. John washes her hair, keeping the lather out of her eyes. He begins to kiss her neck as he washes every part of her body. Soap rinse kiss. Soap rinse kiss. His touch is complete alpha. It makes her forget. Packed with raw hunger and desire and wanting.
She returns his kisses, her delicate body nestling into his. "It's been a very long day," she says.
They wrap themselves in towels and find the bed.
Loving John always restores her physically as well as mentally. His love is perfectly beautiful. Over and over and over they perfect that love. That touch. He holds her through the night, and she is calm.
***
​John's alarm goes off at eight and they find each other once more, dreams giving way to reality. She suggests they find something to eat and shows him the tickets. John is encouraged that her appetite is healthy this morning. He has been so worried. He smiles as they walk out the door, checking to ensure it is locked.
They make their way down the Strip.
​"Here we go," she says. "I think I can see the disabled center." As busy as Vegas is this Monday morning, she can stretch above the crowds and see the sign. John feels her tense up and holds her hand. He brings her closer to his stride and his pace.
​​Once again. Just another center. "There are so many people entering this place, John—it seems unsafe to go in here with so many people. It's hardly large enough to accommodate this size of a crowd . . ."
John's jaw tighten. "We must," he says, "this meeting has to happen."
The crowd has them tightly gripping each other's hands. "Hold on," John says as they hand their tickets to the doorman, who points them in the direction of a large corridor.
​They enter the darkened room together. The other people seem sedate in the darkness. A tension is prevailing, thick enough to feel.
And a velvet voice says gently, "Hello. You've brought a companion this time." And again the lights are like little flickering embers on his face.
She sees him and stammers, "Yes, I . . . I brought John Dougherty with me this time." And with her words, her face begins to emerge in the flickering lights with John's. Again when the voices recognize one another the others stroll to the exit. The room becomes cooler with each body that leaves.
​"Why, Cait? Why did you bring John?"
"He was afraid for me. He didn't want me to be alone—and he wanted to meet you."
​She pauses, expecting a response, but none comes. "But tell me, Steve. How is your memory today?"
"Its fine" he says. "It's just that our time together will be shorter this time. They say the room only provides increments of memory, in relation to time. Last time we had an hour and a half. This time it will only be forty-five minutes."
​"Tell me what you remember," she says.
And he begins with a vacation. "I remember," he starts, "the time we spent skiing up north. I remember the little cabin. The kids. The skiers went with you and the sledders with me. I remember making the snowman. Oh, Cait—I remember it all. And all I want is our life back."
​They hold each other and enjoy the memories of their life—holidays, birthdays, their children—as the lights flicker on and off and on and off. But all too soon Cait hears the guard approach the room and the lights go bright. She gives Steve a gentle kiss and presses her finger to his lips. "Until next time. I love you."
​John and Cait are escorted out the door. This time Cait is not screaming, not crying. John walks with his arm around Cait's waist as he suggests that this mission is unhealthy. He suggests it should end right here in Vegas.
​She does not believe him. "John," she asks, "can we google disabled centers in New Orleans? New Orleans is the next memory. I'm sure of it."
"Of course," replies John, realizing the pursuit is not ending just yet but trying to decide how to convince her that New Orleans, of all places, is a very bad idea.
They find a quiet restaurant to grab some Mexican for lunch. As they eat, they begin to research New Orleans. Facilities, flights, hotels.
​John finds it: a new disabled facility located just off the riverwalk. "Here it is, Cait. Very high-end disabled care facility. People visiting in hordes again, the police called, guests trying to break in after they have been escorted out. It all sounds the same."
​He books two more plane tickets and a hotel off the square. The flight is late afternoon so they have time to finish lunch and check out of the hotel.
Cait fidgets as they walk back to the MGM.
John knows he has to say it. "You do realize what this trip means, Cait?"
"Yes. It's so painful. I'm trembling. But I have to . . . I have to . . ."
​He puts an arm around her shoulders. "Let's just get back. Maybe take another shower?"
Cait laughs.
***
​They land in New Orleans. and catch an Uber to the hotel, their first stop. They check in together and then he suggests they walk to Emeril's; a nice Louisiana dinner will at least refresh both of them.
Cait is so thankful for John. He knows this is her favorite food and her favorite restaurant. And she is very glad she is not alone. She sits looking into his eyes. Blue inviting, blue strong, blue deep in consoling love.
John says nothing; he only returns the gaze in mutual adoration.
They order margaritas, sour and sharp.
"John, I'm trying so hard to wrap my mind around why I'm pursuing this. What will I see in the morning? How long will I have? Will I actually see him die? What if—"
"Caity, you can't prepare for tomorrow. That's just not possible, I'm afraid. All you have is tonight in New Orleans. Tomorrow your life changes forever—and mine also. This is the last time we ever have to feel guilty about our love. I rather look forward to our future, don't you? God, what will it be like to share our life openly without worrying? Did you want another margarita?"
"Of course! Let's be reckless tonight, John! Let's walk over to Harrah's and gamble! Just for fun, I mean." She hesitates. "Is that fitting?" How do we spend tonight, exactly? Mindlessly? Consciously? Spiritually? Sexually? How?"
John grins. "How about a combination of all of them? But with one more margarita, mindlessly will definitely be an option. Harrah's might be a good idea to start. Losing some money may be like preparing for tomorrow in a shallow kind of way."
John and Cait start walking to Harrah's. New Orleans is streaming with people, much like Vegas, and the bustle helps to lighten the mood.
They walk into the casino, into the clinks and blinks and lights and noise. The giant room is full of people losing their hard-earned money and laughing as though none of it is really real.
"Let's find the roulette table and take a chance," he says.
They find two seats at the wheel. Cait takes out her wallet and splits the bills with him. "Here you go, John—don't lose it all on the first spin."
John plays twenty-five on double zeros and twenty-five on black two. The wheel spins. They wait. As the wheel begins to click click click to its end, John stands and stretches.
Double zeros. A cool nine hundred.
​She smiles. "You really are the sexiest man. Cool hand Luke. Shall we walk over to the square?"
"Sure. Let's find one of those southern blues bars and relax. I need a different mood—let's try seductive instead. Sound nice?"
"Your seduction is always nice," she says.
They start walking, knowing they are in the vicinity of the disabled center, but that is the furthest from their minds tonight. They can resist that temptation, at least for tonight.
​They find a quiet spot on the square where the blues are being sung. John orders two tequilas and they wait in silence, their eyes never straying from each other, listening, anticipating, admiring.
The drinks arrive and John offers a toast. "Cait, I have loved you for so long now. I cherish our time; you're such an easy woman to love. The delight of my life." He reaches up with his glass and Cait smiles gently, tapping her drink to his. They sip cautiously and silently as the music plays on. Their thoughts mingle and dance and their eyes are sharing the same thoughts. The love is mutual. The love is exciting. The love is enduring. Neither will turn away. Cait orders another round as the song breaks.
​It is Cait's turn to offer a toast. "John—I love you and everything about you. I am grateful that you have given me the strength and love I have needed over the years. What an incredible gift you have been to my life. I wouldn't have made it without you."
Instead of just reaching up to clink her toast, John stands up and comes to her side, taking her hand and lifting her. Tapping glasses quietly, he kisses her and they drain the last tequila in mutual understanding.
​They start the walk back to their hotel again in silence. Everything they need to say is in their hand-holding, the pace of their walking. Absolutely no words are necessary for them tonight. They enter the hotel and John pulls the key card from his pocket.
​As the door closes behind them, Cait pulls his face down to hers and kisses his eyelids softly, lingering. John returns the kiss on her closed eyes as she savours the moment. She kisses his mouth deep and slow, a kiss that needs no answer—it is only an invitation to continue. With each breath, John begins to trace his finger down Cait's neck, following his finger with gentle kisses. Cait's wedding finger trails down his neck to his collar and she gently unbuttons his shirt, kissing his chest with each button. Pop kiss pop kiss. John can wait no longer.
​He holds her through the night, but this night her sleep is restless and broken. There are several times when John can feel her distress and he gently tightens his body into hers until she calmly continues sleeping.
​***
Cait wakes up quietly. Very quietly; she doesn't want to wake John. Not this morning. She showers. Puts on her yellow sundress: cute, fresh, the colour of a Texas rose. She sharpies a note to John on the shower glass. You are a sensational man. You are a sensational friend. You are a sensational lover. Please come find me. I think I will need you today. Love you!
​Cait walks very quickly, fumbling through her purse for her ticket. She finds it and walks even faster. She notices almost nothing and no one. Her focus is simple: the disabled center. She can feel her heart thumping her expectation against her ribs.
Here it is. Plenty of people this morning. A line, as usual. She makes her way to the door and hands her ticket to the doorman. This time the doorman takes her arm and guides her to a darkened stairwell.
"Where is he?" she asks. "Why is it always so dark no matter what city we are in? How does this work?"
He says nothing and leaves her at the top of the steps.
​Knowing now that the lights go on with sound she utters, "Steve?" And the flicker begins. "Steve?" A bit louder. Now she can see the steps and she continues.
Finally, she hears it. "Hello, Cait."
Her heart shutters as she sees his face. "I'm frightened, Steve."
"So am I." The lights brighten.
​Cait finds a chair and sits down in front of Steve, looking into his eyes; there is a warning in them. Their steel gray is covered in a film or residue this morning and they look more deeply set. She can see a crusting on each edge. "How do you feel this morning? How is your memory?"
​His response is slow but he manages to speak. "I'm not feeling very well. My strength seems to be leaving moment by moment. I can't move my arms this morning. But my memory is still good, in this room . . ." He begins to cough.
Cait moves in closer and starts to feel his arms. The lights begin to shimmer and dim with each touch. She notices the IV and asks him what it is for.
Steve coughs again, harder this time. His voice struggles. "Cait," he says softly, "the IV is for my fluids. My throat is swelling a bit. My chest is starting to feel inflamed by something." He coughs again.
"Steve, you should be in a hospital!"
"No, Cait. My orders are 'no resuscitation'. There will be no hospital. I just want to tell you some things this time. Please listen. Cait, I understand. I understand that our love and our family were everything a man could ever ask for. We were alive together for so many years. Celebrating the most life had to offer. We had a great life!
​"Our kids are the gifts of our life and of our marriage. They are reflections of the love we shared and lived. They are the keys to our love. And what we had will never die. Never. No one will ever take the truth away.
​"I also know how my leaving left you with everything. This illness left you to carry our family alone. I understand. I prayed that someone would help you through. I want you to know that. Before . . . Before . . ." His coughing starts again and he begins to choke.
​Hearing his distress, the guards come in and check Steve's vitals. One of them gives him a shot in his arm. The other explains that Cait has just a few minutes left.
As Steve calms down, he looks again into Cait's eyes. "I love you."
Cait holds him and kisses his cheek with a tenderness that makes both of them shiver. "Steve, I love you. I'm so proud of our life and of our gifts. I have missed you so much. I tried to be so strong, even alone. The kids did so well. They acted stronger than I ever could. But it was our family, Steve. It will always be our family—no one can take that away. Your love for me and my love for you will meet again. Surely we shall find each other again someday."
​The coughing begins again and the gasping brings the guards back in. One takes Cait's arm and walks her toward the door. She fights him, pulling away. But as she struggles, the other guard is carrying Steve out the back door and the lights are completely dimmed.
Cait screams out, "Steve!" She begins sobbing and shaking.
The guard carries her up the darkened staircase. He brings her to the door. "I'm very sorry, ma'am."
​As the door closes and locks, Cait is filled with rage. She starts pounding on the door, screaming, "Steve, Steve, Steve!"
A police officer appears at her side. "What's wrong?"
Cait looks into his face with disbelief. Her memory of what just occurred is fading. She is confused and shaken. She begins to pull away from the officer and sees John running toward her. Just in time; Cait is beginning to collapse. The loss has overwhelmed her.
John carries her to a bench. And holds her until she is able to speak again.
​
The End