Patrick's Surfaces VII

"You don't remember," she said soft in her WJAZ voice.

"What don't I remember?" I said, sounding remarkably grouchy, like my father.

"Wemoreland," she said.

"I've never been there." I hadn't moved. She hadn't moved. We'd been to this point before.

"But you remember. Wemoreland?" she asked.

"I..."

"Close your eyes, Zachary."

I did.

"Zachary, remember a cold rapid river, a gnarly juniper branch, a rune riddle under a senofite rock, a friendly owl."

"Neptine," I said, without thinking it first.

"Yes. Neptine. He misses you."

"I don't know him." I opened my eyes.

"Close your eyes," she said immediately. "You knew him. You just said his name."

I closed my eyes and said his name, "Neptine."

"Yes," she said. "He was your friend."

"There was a boat," I heard myself say. I saw a boat. I heard myself describe it. "It had a wheel, a light, it was trimmed in blue, there were workers, monkeys. I was worried. There was danger, water, time, danger."

"Yes. Zach. What else?"

"You. I remember you."

"What else, Zachary?"

"There was a message, a message missing words."

"What else do you remember, Zachary?"

"Nothing." The images were gone. I opened my eyes.

"Close your eyes, Zachary. What else do you remember?"

"Nothing. All I remember was a book I read. I remember nothing more."

"What book, Zach?"

"What?"

"What book, Zach?"