Unpossible Read Free Page B

of the world tells you that Therese was some other person. No one’s denying that. But you’re in a situation where biologically and legally, you’re Therese Klass. Do you have plans for dealing with that?"
    As a matter of fact I do, and it involves getting the hell out as soon as possible. "I’ll deal with it," I say.
    "What about Alice and Mitch?"
    I shrug. "What about them?"
    "They’re still your parents, and you’re still their child. The overdose convinced you that you’re a new person, but that hasn’t changed who they are. They’re still responsible for you, and they still care for you."
    "Not much I can do about that."
    "You’re right. It’s a fact of your life. You have two people who love you, and you’re going to be with each other for the rest of your lives. You’re going to have to figure out how to relate to each other. Zen may have burned the bridge between you and your past life, but you can build that bridge again."
    "Doc, I don’t want to build that bridge. Look, Alice and Mitch seem like nice people, but if I was looking for parents, I’d pick someone else."
    Dr. Mehldau smiles. "None of us gets to choose our parents, Terry."
    I’m not in the mood to laugh. I nod toward the clock. "This is a waste of time."
    She leans forward. I think she’s going to try to touch me, but she doesn’t. "Terry, you’re not going to disappear if we talk about what happened to you. You’ll still be here. The only difference is that you’ll reclaim those memories as your own. You can get your old life back and choose your new life."
    Sure, it’s that easy. I get to sell my soul and keep it too.

    I can’t remember my first weeks in the hospital, though Dr. S said I was awake. At some point I realized that time was passing, or rather, that there was a me who was passing through time. I had lasagna for dinner yesterday, I am having meat loaf today. I am this girl in a bed. I think I realized this and forgot it several times before I could hold onto it.
    Every day was mentally exhausting, because everything was so relentlessly new . I stared at the TV remote for a half hour, the name for it on the tip of my tongue, and it wasn’t until the nurse picked it up and turned on the TV for me that I thought: Remote . And then sometimes, this was followed by a raft of other ideas: TV. Channel. Gameshow .
    People were worse. They called me by a strange name, and they expected things of me. But to me, every visitor, from the night shift nurse to the janitor to Alice and Mitch Klass, seemed equally important—which is to say, not important at all.
    Except for Dr. S. He was there from the beginning, and so he was familiar before I met him. He belonged to me like my own body.
    But everything else about the world—the names, the details, the facts —had to be hauled into the sunlight, one by one. My brain was like an attic, chock full of old and interesting things jumbled together in no order at all.
    I only gradually understood that somebody must have owned this house before me. And then I realized the house was haunted.

    After the Sunday service, I’m caught in a stream of people. They lean across the pews to hug Alice and Mitch, then me. They pat my back, squeeze my arms, kiss my cheeks. I know from brief dips into Therese’s memories that many of these people are as emotionally close as aunts or uncles. And any of them, if Therese were ever in trouble, would take her in, feed her, and give her a bed to sleep in.
    This is all very nice, but the constant petting has me ready to scream.
    All I want to do is get back home and take off this dress. I had no choice but to wear one of Therese’s girly-girl extravaganzas. Her closet was full of them, and I finally found one that fit, if not comfortably. She loved these dresses, though. They were her floral print flak jackets. Who could doubt the purity of a girl in a high-necked Laura Ashley?
    We gradually make our way to the vestibule, then to the sidewalk and the