After being ordered by the State to undergo Deep Sleep, a treatment for troubled teens, Jo awakens in the hospital with sporadic and unexplained memories. Upon celebrating her rebirthday, she recalls strange past events that makes her question reali...
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Although the candles in the cake were not alive with flame, I could easily imagine the smoke it would have produced as my imagination blended in with my recent memory of burnt almonds.
With my back against the cold steel door of the private hospital room, the cogs were turning in my head trying to understand what Mom was doing as her shaky voice rose in an off tuned and altered rendition of Happy Birthday. "Happy Rebirthday to you." She waved her hand, gesturing, urging me to go over and pretend to blow out the candles.
I stared, baffled, waiting for her to acknowledge my lack of interest, my weak legs, and their inability to carry my weight. Did she really want me to use my arms to drag my body across the cold, dirty floor to indulge in make-believe?
"I just want to bring some normalcy back into our lives." She pleaded with her eyes. "So, come on, honey. Make a wish."
Her desperation and drive were obvious. I questioned rather I should continue to be reluctant or play along. Ever since waking from Deep Sleep, she's been asking me to play by the rules. Doing so could be key to getting out of this place. But who's rules? The doctor's? The system's? Society's? Maybe she knew something about the rules I didn't.
"I wish," I started, thinking long and hard for the exact words that would resonate. "I wish everything was back to normal." As soon as the words left my lips, a river of tears ran down her cheeks and for a while her sniffles were the only sound in the room.
"Oh, how I wish we didn't have to go through this. Things were bad enough before, but I thought I could fix it. I just didn't work hard enough and it's all my fault." Her shoulders slumped forward and she covered her face with both hands as she sobbed. "I don't know what changed. Just one day it all became really hard."
"What did?" My voice cracked and I gulped down any trace of pity.
"Raising you." She sniffed, wiping away the moisture that collected below her nose with the back of her hand. "Not many people know how hard it is to raise a young woman and do it alone. Maybe that's why this program came into being. Who knows?" She shrugged and continued to wipe away tears before they reached her discolored cheeks. "I think you hated me. That's why it was so stressful."
I cocked my head, trying hard to access my sealed memory bank. "I hated you? Why?"
"No, you didn't hate me, just the person I became when alcohol got into me. It was as if you'd looked at me and see the future you. It probably scared and angered you, understandably. And your resentment wasn't easy to hide. You wanted better from me and I let you down."
"Oh." For the first time, I found it hard to meet her gaze. As a pang of guilt echoed in my chest. Was my resentment toward her what brought me here? Had I been acting out in defiance because of her alcohol dependency?
"But I didn't blame you," she went on. "You had it all. Your talents and abilities always impressed me. You had so much to offer and there I was mucking it up."
