Yesterday

I forget... a lot.

My parents first noticed when I was in 4th grade. Up until then I had been a straight A student. My teachers described me as a "walking encyclopedia". "Gifted" was the word my parents preferred to use. My first F was in math and I was grounded for "not applying myself" and "not performing to my potential". I aced tests and I knew the material, but somehow I could never seem to remember to turn in homework. When I earned all F's except in Art, Music and Gym, I was pulled out of public school and bussed 5 miles away to Catholic school. That lasted a semester before I was kicked out for my academic performance. My parents yelled and grounded and punished until they couldn't anymore. They had no idea why I didn't take my education seriously and neither did I, for that matter. It wasn't until Middle School that things became more clear; all thanks to Lisa. I was walking home and a thin girl with black hair in a bun called my name from across the street. I was a chubby preteen who was nowhere near puberty so pretty girls calling out to me wasn't the norm. I ignored her and assumed that there was someone else named Chris nearby. When the light changed she ran across, grabbed my hand and kissed me on the cheek.

"I figured you'd be walking this way so I took a bit of a detour"

I stared at her blankly.

"Yesterday was so much fun! I'm so glad your brother asked you to come along to mall."

She looked to be a few years older than me. Every feature of her face was beautiful but not at all familiar. My confusion was embarrassing.

"My brother? The mall?"

"Yeeeees"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

I yanked my hand from hers and sped up my pace. She didn't follow behind me. She yelled something about me being a jerk and headed in the opposite direction.

Somewhere between offended and afraid, my mind raced as I finished the trek home. My brother had mentioned going to the mall this past weekend but we never went. He had to have set this up as a prank. When I reached the front door I flung it open, threw my bag to the floor and charged up the stairs. I burst in his door and pushed him off of the rickety wooden chair where he'd been intensely playing our SEGA Genesis.

"Dude what the heck is wrong with you?"

"That was so not funny Gavin!"

"What are you talking about?"

The perplexed look on his face proved his innocence.

"So you didn't send the girl to talk to me on the way home?"

"You're crazy." Gavin picked up his controller and climbed back into his chair. He paused.

"Wait... What did she look like?"

" A little taller than me, black hair, brown eyes... I think."

"The girl from yesterday?"

"What girl from yesterday?"

"If you're scared to talk to her you can admit it."

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

He must've heard the sincerity in my voice.

"Bro, the girl we met at the mall. Lisa?"

"We didn't go to the mall."

Gavin looked concerned.

"Are you ok Bro?"

"Yea, I'm fine."

"What did we eat for dinner yesterday?"

"Spaghetti."

"Nooo... That was the day before. You really don't remember?"

"Remember what?!?"

Gavin went on to explain how our parents had dropped us off at the mall to hang at the arcade and I met this Lisa girl who stalked me on my way home. And tacos... We'd had tacos for dinner. I hadn't hit my head, or at least that I knew of, and I'd attended enough D.A.R.E programs to know not to do drugs. I had no idea why I couldn't remember. Over the next week or so Gavin quizzed me every day about what happened the day before. I remembered the day before the day before and the day before that and weeks before that, but it was like yesterday never happened. At first our parents thought we were joking. When I had no idea where I'd gotten a new flip phone one day they took things more seriously. I saw a neurologist and a psychologist and after MRIs, EEGs, CBT and a whole alphabet soup of studies and interventions, no one could explain it. I learned to live with it and I often tried to hide it. I kept a journal and always recalled the day before at breakfast with my brother. My "issue" was responsible for several embarrassing moments. There was the day I showed up for basketball practice the day after we'd lost the tournament and the day I went to work the morning after being fired. Some moments were just plain heartbreaking like the day I woke up in a hospital with a baby laying on my chest that I hadn't witnessed being born and when I called my grandpa the day after he died. This morning, though, was the worst.

The chill of the hard cot was the first indication that something wass off. I opened my eyes and acclimated to the tiny space around me. There were two low sitting beds. A snoring man lay in the one across from mine. There was a metal toilet and sink and a blurry mirror that would have been more useful if it'd been made of mud. The windowless walls were lined with white bricks, which were raggedly decorated with family pictures and love letters on the other side. There was one door with a thin rectangular window and no knob. I swung around to a sit and planted my feet on the concrete floor. My sandy brown shirt and pants matched the drabness of the space. I walked over to the door and pushed. It didn't budge. Panic grew in my chest and exploded from my mouth.

"Get me out of here!" I yelled, hoping that this was the climax of a bad dream.

"Shut up! Can't you see I'm sleeping?"

"Hey, Sir, where are we?"

"DisneyLand" the heavyset man scoffed as he turned over and pulled the plastic looking sheet over his head.

I knew exactly where we were. I slid down the white washed wall and curled me knees to my chest. Think... Think... Think... The false hope that I'd remember anything from yesterday faded quickly. The day before yesterday was normal. I took Bradley to school, went to work, came home, ate dinner, watched the game and went to sleep. I don't know how long I'd been curled up on the floor before my cellmate sat up, snorted a few times, looked over at me and said "So you're my celly huh?".

"Yea, I... I guess so." I decided that I would sound more tough with the answer.

"Kinda small to be so ruthless"

Ruthless? What had I done? Several tough-sounding responses sped across my mind.

"Who are you calling small?" was what I came up with. I was worried that I'd regret it.

"I like you already. What's your name?"

I remembered that on TV prisoners called each other by their last names. I put a little more base in my voice.

"Flowers." There was no way to make that sound tough.

My cellmate snickered.

"You should go by your first name. I'm Dave."

"Whatever, when do we eat around here?"

Shortly after I asked the question a loud click came from the door and a guard walked down the hall yelling "chow".

I approached the door but was afraid to push it open. Who knew what scary characters were roaming out there. Dave must've sensed my hesitance.

"C'mon, follow me."

I walked behind Dave, realizing that he was more muscular than plump. I felt a little more secure with him guiding. In the eating area, prewrapped trays awaited us. One piece of bacon, toast, orange juice in a small cup covered with foil and Jello. The Jello was a gut punch. It was my son Bradley's favorite. Bradley was 12 now and he needed me. The thought of not being with him for who knows how long eliminated any appetite I had.

A few guys who seemed to be friends if Dave's sat at our table.

"So did you actually do it?" A younger looking guy asked before devouring his bacon. I had to be careful with this one. Having everyone think I committed some macho crime could have it's benefits and letting them on to the fact that I had no idea what I had done didn't seem wise.

"Why do you wanna know?" was the best I had.

"You just don't look like the kind of guy who would do that"

"You shouldn't judge a book by it's cover. Hey, don't we get a phone call?"

All of the guys pointed over to the crowded wall of inmates waiting for the payphones. I walked over debating who I should contact. I wasn't ready to face my wife. When it was my turn, I dialed Gavin's number. I was anticipating the relief of hearing my brother's voice and having him explain everything son my dad's voice caught me by surprise.

"Dad?"

"Chris! How could you!" He was clearly distraught.

" I don't know what you're talking about! Where's Gavin?"

"Where's Gavin? You have the nerve..." His voice trailed off as if he'd dropped the phone. I heard voices in the background but couldn't quite make them out. I waited silently for several minutes and no one came back to the phone. A chorus of "Dude hurry up "s and "We don't have all day"s signaled that my time was up. I hung up the phone and found my way back to my cell. I laid on my cot and fixed my eyes on the ceiling.

So here I am laying, guilt blanketing my body. I have no idea why. I can't stop the tears and I surrender to the pain and confusion. Tomorrow, I won't remember it and I'll have to face the reality of knowing what I've

done. Today I'll just lay here and cry. I'll figure out the rest when today becomes yesterday.