“I don’t know what business she is of yours, but I’d be much obliged if people could let her memory rest.”

“Memory?”

And then he leveled a terrible truth at me. “Angela died of spinal meningitis over a year ago.”

8

The Memory of Memories

We are so limited. As a species. As individuals. Not only can’t we see the future, we can’t even see the present for what it is. We’re too clouded by the things we want and the things we fear. But worse than any other blindness is that we can’t see the consequences of our actions.

I had wanted a world where that night between Angela and me never happened. And I ended up with a world in which it didn’t. I was envious of everything Leo had going for him. Did my envy play a part in landing us here, and stealing it all away from him?

They say be careful what you wish for, but you know what? No matter how careful we are, it’s not enough. We should know by now that anything we desire, and anything we achieve, comes at a cost, and with consequences we didn’t care enough to consider.

I stood there in the line at Publix, knowing what I heard, but refusing to believe Leo said it. I just stared at him, shaking my head.

“If you got a club card, you should scan it,” he said.

Angela was dead. She was dead. No! I wouldn’t accept that. I wouldn’t allow it to be true!

“Oh God, I’m sorry, Leo. I’m so, so sorry . . .”

“A lot of people are. You should pay now.”

And then I went out on a limb, because I had to. I just had to.

“What time do you get off?” I asked him. “There are things I need to talk to you about.”

“With all due respect, you and I got nothing to discuss.”

“It’s important!”

And then he held my gaze with such fire, it nearly made me stumble backward against the candy rack.

“You think I don’t know what you do? What you sell? And do you think I don’t know how guys like you treat girls like my sister? I want nothing to do with you, now or ever. Nothing!”

Now more and more people were taking notice. Not just shoppers but other cashiers. His manager was coming over and I worried that I might get him fired, and I thought, So what? This job sucks. He’ll get a better one. But what if he couldn’t? What if the things Leo had going for him didn’t mean a damn thing in this place?

“Please, Leo,” I said. Now I was begging. “Whatever you think I’m gonna say to you, you’re wrong.”