Janie – Was I Losing My Mind?

“Janie, make sure you pick up groceries before you come home from work. I don’t want to have to remind you again.” Mom was yelling out the door, but I was just a few feet away, opening my car door. Mrs. O’Toole looked over, forgetting she was watering her roses, and the hose drenched her dachshund, making him yip and run back to the house. She was always listening in to my parents giving me a hard time about everything, and recently it was really about every little thing. They acted like I couldn’t remember what they said, even though I’d never forgotten. They explain the simplest tasks like I’m a child. And they get angry about all of it.

I know better than to roll my eyes, but I can’t just let it go. “I won’t forget. You don’t have to keep reminding me.”

Mom huffed, crossing her arms. “I do have to keep reminding you, because you keep forgetting. You forget everything.”

She made me wonder if I was forgetting, and forgetting that too. I was way too young for dementia. Was 20 too young for a brain tumor? I’d started second guessing myself, so I left without responding, my thoughts whirling around every potential reason I could be forgetful. Maybe I could ask Chrissy when I got to work. She could keep an eye on me and maybe test me during the day to see if I was forgetting things. I drove to the office, and walked in, my thoughts heavy with worry. Chrissy was already there, sorting some files on her desk, and looked up when I walked in. We worked as clerks in the police station, tucked away in a back room, away from all the action. We filed documents from arrests, from the courtroom and from the mayor’s office. Our work was pretty monotonous, but in this little town, there weren’t many jobs to be had, especially with just a high school education. I was lucky my dad was the police chief and offered me and my friend these positions. He said he wanted to keep me close where he could keep an eye on me, and he was friends with Chrissy’s dad, so he was glad to do the same for her.

My dad’s friend group held all the power in our town. The judge was one of his buddies, and came over occasionally for dinner. Dr. McFayden, Chrissy’s father, was another. He was the only doctor in town, so if you needed medical care, you went to him, or drove 45 minutes to Tarburgh to see someone else. Even the mayor was one of the them; friends with all of them since high school. If you crossed any of the men in that group, you’d be screwed. They ruled this shitty little place with an iron fist, and no one bothered to challenge them. That meant that any decent jobs were parceled out based on knowing one of them, and since neither me nor Chrissy had the education or the money to leave this dump, we leaned on my dad for jobs.

“Hey, Janie! We got a new batch of forms from the 80s that Marshall found for us to go through and file.”

I rolled my eyes, and dropped my purse next to my desk. “Why do they bother having us file those old things? Who’s going to look them up?”

Chrissy snickered. “There are some old busybodies in town that might want to see if their neighbor really did request that zoning amendment in 1984.”

I laughed, and came around her desk to pull some papers out of a box at her feet. It reminded me of my neighbor and what she heard this morning.

“Speaking of busybodies, Mom was yelling at me again today, so loud that our neighbor heard. I’m getting worried, Chrissy. I need your help.”

Chrissy’s brows furrowed. “Of course, what’s up?”

I paused, thinking about how to ask without sounding like I really was losing my mind. “My parents keep accusing me of forgetting everything. Have you noticed any memory issues? I’m afraid maybe I’m forgetting things but not realizing it. Maybe I have brain cancer!”

Chrissy tilted her head, thinking hard before she answered. “I doubt you have brain cancer. I haven’t noticed anything. In fact, you’ve always had an amazing memory. Why don’t I tell you a few things, and check later if you remember them?”

I sighed in relief. “That would be perfect. Let’s do that.”

Chrissy rattled off a list of books she was reading, and I repeated them once to her. Then we got to work sorting through the box of old forms. I tried not to think about the list, figuring it would be a better test of my memory if I didn’t try to reinforce the details. The day went by quickly, although the work didn’t. We kept getting s