Chapter 31

Lysandra went back to Cale's studio feeling stranded. Her mind wouldn't stop returning to that place where the memories dropped off abruptly, the edge of the chasm. Once she had probed the edge of the darkness, finding that it didn't give an inch, she went over the information her father had just given her. Back and forth her thoughts went, pacing, over and over.

She shivered and rubbed her arms for warmth even in Cale's cloak. Somehow she still felt the chill of the cold against her skin.

"Lysandra," Cale greeted her when she stepped into the studio and swept her into his arms. She buried her face in his shirt, her hands clinging to the fabric. She squeezed her eyes shut to keep any tears from leaking out of her eyes, but none came.

"What happened? Where did you go?" Cale asked, his voice dropping to a whisper, low tones sliding past her ear.

"I went to see my father," Lysandra choked out. "In the penitentiary."

"Why?" Cale asked. One of his hands stroked her hair.

"I thought maybe he knew something about my memory," Lysandra told him. "And he did. But he wouldn't tell me. He said it wouldn't be good for me."

Cale nodded. "He's right."

Lysandra shook her head.

"People who have gained back their traumatic memories sometimes have mental breakdowns," Cale explained to her quietly. "They can't handle the thought that it actually happened to them. And Lysandra - I won't let you do that to yourself."

"So I'm just supposed to survive with this - this nothing that's supposed to be my past," Lysandra snapped. Her voice sounded thick, but her eyes were dry. "I don't see how that's any better, Cale."

"I know," Cale said. "But that's how everyone reacts. They have no idea what kind of things have gone on in their pasts."

"Why does Memory Recoding even exist?" Lysandra burst out, tearing away from him. "Why couldn't they have just let me live with my memories, no matter how traumatic they were? Then there wouldn't be this question of whether I was going to lose my mind. I'd just learn to live with those memories. Traumatic or not."

Cale listened to her, his eyes following her movements with a concerned twinge.

"I have memories that cause me pain," Lysandra said. "No one made me forget the time that Memory Recoder dragged my father away from me with blood on his face. No one made me forget the time the Reinforcers handcuffed him and carried him out of the house."

"They tried," Cale reminded her.

"That's not the point," Lysandra replied. "I remember those things, but if someone were to offer me the chance to forget them, I'd never accept."

"Why?" Cale asked. "What in Oblitus is appealing about keeping memories that make you tremble with anger, or cry tears of regret? Or both? Don't you want those feelings gone?"

"Erasing those feelings is inhuman," Lysandra said. "Those feelings are what make us who we are. You can't just snap your fingers and hope they disappear."

Cale sighed and stepped back, sliding his hands into his pockets. "That's what I tried to do anyway."

The room fell silent. Lysandra stood back and tried to catch her breath. She hadn't meant to accuse Cale of trying to suppress his feelings, of trying to destroy his humanity, but that was what she had said.

"I'm sorry," she began. "I didn't mean to - "

"No," Cale said. "Lysandra, don't apologize. I understand what you mean, and I - I agree. Ever since you showed up, I haven't felt like I can Erase any of my memories. That would mean Erasing you. And I can't do that."

"When I'm gone," Lysandra said, "you can't just Erase me from your memory because it hurts to remember me. Do you understand that?"

"I understand it," Cale told her. "I don't know if I can handle it. You can't leave me, Lysandra. Don't talk about it like that."

"You've seen my memories," Lysandra replied. "You've seen my father's servants and their plans for me. They only have one relationship in mind for me."

"Yes." Cale looked down at the floor. "I have seen that."

"Just promise me," Lysandra said. "I don't want to be forgotten."

"Well," Cale said, a smile twitching at the corner of his mouth, "when you put it that way . . ."

"You see?" Lysandra said. She took a step forward and smiled up at him.

He sighed. "But when I'm gone, and you're never able to see me anymore, won't you want to forget I ever existed?"

"No." Lysandra shook her head. "I'll want to remember you, because it might be the only thing that can keep me going."

"God, Lysandra." Cale pulled her close to him and leaned his head down so that his nose brushed her hair. "You'll never understand how much I admire the strength you have."

"Are you sure?" she answered, her lips barely moving, her voice hardly a whisper.

"I'm sure. If the rest of the world was as strong as you are, we Memory Recoders would be out of a job."

"Sorry, Cale. I didn't mean to put you out of a job."

"Oh, don't worry. It hasn't gotten to that point yet," he said and pressed his lips to her forehead.