The Father She Went to Find by Carter Wilson EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Authors: Carter Wilson
- Language: English
- Genre: Crime Thrillers
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 5.7 MB
- Price: Free
July 13, 1987
Eau Claire, Wisconsin
Monday
I remember everything.
This isn’t an exaggeration. As the few who know me would confirm,
I’m not prone to hyperbole. And when I say I remember everything, I’m not
talking about the events of this morning. Or yesterday. Or the whole of last
week.
I remember everything since October 2, 1973.
Since the day I woke from my coma when I was seven years old.
Every meal. Every conversation. The lyrics of every song that entered
my ears. Every word of every page of every book that passed beneath my
gaze.
Every word of abuse.
And all the words of praise.
One of those outnumbers the other, but I’m not in the mood to report
the score.
I have supreme eidetic memory combined with hyperthymesia—the
ability to recall life events in great detail. It’s exceedingly rare that a person
has both these things.
Lucky me.
Thing is, my abilities sometimes haunt me, but not as much as one of
my profound inabilities.
I remember almost nothing of my life before October 2, 1973.
I’ve seen photos. I’ve heard stories. I’ve been told surely you remember
more times than I can count—okay, that’s a lie; I’ve been told that 217
times in the past fourteen years.
But I don’t remember. And when I try to, it’s like trying to watch a
movie through a crashing ocean wave.
And yet.
Every now and then, once every two years or so, I recall something of
that lost period of my life. Usually, it’s a small detail, like eating vanilla soft
serve under a towering oak tree in the park near my house. These sudden
memories will surface in good—but not vivid—detail. And, god, how I
want these rare finds to be meaningful, to be revelatory of some greater
truth, but my guess is they’re just the result of an improbable synchronicity
of firing synapses.
But today.
Today I had my most powerful recollection ever.
I suddenly remembered bits and pieces of a road trip I took with my
father.
I was six.
We drove from Wisconsin to Los Angeles. I assume we drove back,
too, but I don’t remember that.
This recollection was the first time I ever saw my father within the
confines of my own mind. No photos. No old Super 8 reels. It was the
father I experienced as a little girl.
This memory.
This happened today.
Right before I turn twenty-one.
Right as I expect to hear from him, his annual birthday card.
Goddamn. This could be meaningful. It’s going to be a good day.
Hours later it all turns to shit.
Worse than shit.
Shit can be cleaned off.
“I don’t understand,” I say into the phone. I’m just buying time to
absorb his words along with the feeling of a razor to my belly. I clench my
core with all my might, as if otherwise my guts would spill onto the
linoleum floor of the institute.
A pause. Dr. Brock clears his throat on the other end of the line.
“Yes, you do, Penny,” he says. “That’s the thing. You understand
everything. You always have.”
His voice sounds different over the phone. Ten years, and I’ve never
spoken to him anywhere but in person.
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