Thunder rumbles in the distance, because what else could make this any scarier than the sound of a storm brewing?
That’s when I see the note on the counter beside the back door. I step out on the deck and check the yard and all around as far as I can see but come up empty. I go back in the house and shut the door and then flip the deadbolt to where it’s locked.
Picking up the note and reading the words, I feel the blood drain from my face.
See how easy it would be for me to finish this? Watch your back. I know I am.
12
Idon’t know what to do. Do I tell Dash? Hendrix? My parents? The police?
Logically, I know I should. But I feel like I should know who this is. It doesn’t seem like Lennon and London had secrets, so surely London would know about this. Meaning no matter which twin I am, I must’ve known what was going on.
It’s more crucial for me to remember now than ever. I see a closed door off the kitchen and open it to find a mudroom. There’s a set of keys hanging on the wall beside yet another closed door. I swipe them from their spot on the wall and study the cool metal. They’re attached to a purple heart keychain with a cursive L in the center.
“The GTO,” I whisper. It was Lennon’s high school graduation gift. A brand-new 2005 GTO.
My heart races as I realize I’ve remembered something. I open the door and find the shiny black twenty-year-old GTO parked in the garage just waiting to be driven. I open the driver’s door and ease into the seat. I put my cane in the passenger seat and close the door.
I slide the key into the ignition but don’t turn it over yet. I glance around the interior, and I remember the hum of the road beneath the tires. I close my eyes and hear laughter somewhere in the recesses of my memory. I remember the black ice air freshener. It was my favorite, and it clings to the car like a ghost. I feel the steering wheel under my fingertips and open my eyes.
Above me on the visor is a garage opener and a picture of a much younger us. In this moment, I feel more like Lennon than London, but just because I have memories of this car doesn’t mean I’m not still London. She seemed to know more about cars than everyone else assumed.
Lennon may have taught her more than they thought. Just like it seems London taught Lennon about being in the kitchen based on how similar hers is to the one here in Lennon’s house.
We obviously share everything. Shared, I correct in my head and my heart squeezes.
“We’re going for a drive,” I say out loud as if the car can hear me.
I don’t have my purse or ID, but I don’t know which driver’s license mine is anyway. It’s not like I plan to do anything wild. I’ll be careful. I pat my pocket and realize my cell phone is still on the floor at the bottom of the stairs.
In my rush to check the downstairs, I forgot to pick it back up. I’m not going back in for it now. I won’t be gone long, just going for a quick drive. This car has been the first thing to make me feel like I’m close to remembering.
I whisper to myself, “Mirror, Mirror. My heart to remember.”
I hit the button to open the garage door and then start the GTO. It roars to life, and I feel the adrenaline flow through my veins. I press in the clutch as my hip protests the movement, but I don’t care.
Hendrix would shit a brick if he knew I was driving. Any of my doctors would, I’m sure. But there are some forms of healingand therapy doctors can’t prescribe, nor can they understand. This is part of mine. Sometimes, you just have to trust your heart to know what’s true.
I take in one more deep breath as my right hand finds the gear shift and my left hand finds its place on the steering wheel while my shoulder is screaming against the movement just like my hip does.
I shift into first and ease off the clutch as the car rolls forward. Once I’m in the driveway, I stop and make sure the garage closes back before I pull onto the street.
It’s a cool afternoon, but I open the sunroof and let the wind blow through my hair. I can almost smell the rain in the air confirming what the thunder was saying moments earlier. There’s no storm yet, but it’s on the horizon.
I turn on the radio and a CD is playing. I recognize it as a mixed CD from our teenage years. I smile even as my chin quivers. I’m feeling nostalgic for a time which doesn’t exist anymore, a sister who’s gone from this world forever, and a part of myself I’ve lost. A time where all was right.
I think the reason I recognize myself in both London and Lennon is because we are essentially the same person in many ways and shared everything, even our differences. So, it’s hard to separate what I know because it was both shared with me and what I’ve lived myself.
Amnesia is a cruel condition. Almost as cruel as Alzheimer’s. But at least with amnesia I have a chance to get my memories back and to make new ones.
And driving this car, I feel like I’m close. I can almost reach out and touch them.
After I’ve driven around the neighborhood, I decide to keep going. I shift through the gears despite the pain screaming on the left side of my body. It’s time to see what this car can do.Maybe it’s time to see what I can do too. I get on the interstate and let her roll.
I feel free on this highway, and considering the last month, I’d love to keep going without ever looking back. But I have nothing with me. I’ve got to turn around, not just for me, but for my sister and the people who love us most. And for justice. Someone killed her and, it would seem, still wants to kill me.
As I exit the interstate, I find myself driving by Tyler Motorsports. I noticed what looked like a practice track behind the garage when Dash and I were there before. The sun is getting ready to set but there’s still plenty of light and no rain yet. Without further analyzing my decision, I turn into the parking lot and see a few trucks and cars parked out front, but the gates leading behind the garage to where I assume the entrance to the track would be, are open.
