Page 38 of Catching Camila

John

Thursday 6:38 p.m.

When the trees pulled back and he spotted the lake, John blew out a deep breath. Magnificent. The lake stretched across his periphery, hedged with trees all the way around. Across the way, two white swans floated regally across the rippling surface. To his left a killdeer scuttled across the brown sand. It keened a mournful note and its mate answered. Despite the heat, there were no bathers. One leathery old man lay face up, his radio broadcasting a baseball game in his ear. Camila and John moved off to the right where the water lapped quietly on the sand. John felt a shiver of pleasure run through him. To be in this place of splendid beauty with an even more beautiful girl at his side, well, this was paradise.

“You come here a lot?” he asked, his eyes on a swan that was circling the water.

“Uh-huh.” Camila’s eyes followed the swan too, but John could tell her mind was floating elsewhere. “Mama used to bring me here as a kid. Before she got sick.”

John scooped up a handful of sand and let it sift through his fingers. “How long has she been like this?”

Camila shrugged. “Hard to say. It was kind of a gradual decline, not like a sharp drop. I remember her being in bed a lot when I was in fifth grade. By high school, our trailer was pretty trashed. Once she went off for a week without calling. I was pretty scared.” She squeezed her hands together and blew out a tense breath. “One time she picked me up from school, plopped me in the car, and started driving to Disney. We ran out of gas in Tennessee. Never made it to Disney, but we did get a tour of Nashville from the guy who drove us to the gas station.”

John smiled. “That's an exciting way to live life.”

“You mean weird.” She shook her head, smiling wryly.

“What about the rest of your family? What do they think about your mom?”

Camila took a breath. “Uh, they’re not big fans. We’re not in touch. I've been trying to get a hold of my grandfather in Bolivia, but I can't find a phone number.” Camila shook her head, lifting a smile onto her face. “But, we’ve all got our problems.” she said, letting her eyes trace his face. “You can’t even remember who you are. That’s a problem.”

His cheeks flushed and he dropped his eyes to the sand flecks clinging to his fingers. “Maybe it’s better I don’t remember my family. I mean, if they cared about me so much, wouldn’t they have come looking for me?”

Camila drew her name in the sand with her finger and then smoothed it out with her palm. “They’re looking. Maybe we need to ask around. Where was the last place you remember?”

“The dog park,” he said, and regretted it. Would she put two and two together?

Her lips pursed as her mind worked this over. “The park that they closed down? The one with those comet craters?”

He nodded.

“Did you see the craters?”

John swallowed and nodded. “One of them, anyway.”

Should he tell her? He’d already lied once. He felt his secret resting uncomfortably just above his breastbone. It would feel so good to get it out, like coughing hard enough to dislodge a kernel stuck in his throat.

“So, maybe something from the meteor knocked you unconscious or whatever,” she said, splaying her fingers through the sand. “Did your head hurt?”

He rubbed at hand over the back of his head. “Yeah, a little.”

“Okay.” She stared off into the weeds. “Then how do we figure out who you are? In movies they always go back to the last place they remember, but the park’s off limits. We’ll have to come up with something else.”

John picked up a strand of dried seaweed and twisted it. He thought of the silo from his vision. Should he ask her? “There is this one thing.”

Camila squinted into the sun as she met his gaze. “What?”

“I keep picturing this big cement silo. Like a grain silo maybe, or something like that. Is there a farm with one of those around here?”

Camila scrunched up her face, thinking. Finally she shook her head. “I don't think so. That's the only memory you have?”

John nodded. “There's nothing else.”

Camila leaned in a little. “Close your eyes.”

He looked at her. “Why?”

She shrugged, offering a small smile. “Something I saw on Guiding Light. They’re always losing their memory and trying to get it back.” When he hesitated, she sank back in the sand. “Forget it. It's stupid.”

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