Memories of My Father

Emma grew up believing her father Russell Maddox was as good a man as any and better than most. He enlisted in the Marines out of high school, earned a Purple Heart and Bronze Star in Vietnam, returned to marry her mother Denise, bought a refrigerated semi tractor trailer and earned a good living hauling frozen foods from state to state.

~

“Goggles secure, ear and nose plugs inserted,” the lab tech reported as he strapped the subject securely to the gurney.

“BP 110 over 85, respiration stable,” added the nurse monitoring the patient’s vitals.

  ~

Whenever he was home long enough, Russell made it a point to play with her and her older brother Bob. He’d take them fishing, to ball games, show them how to plant a garden and build a soap box derby racer. He was a good husband and wonderful father whose personal story was rich with experience and wonderful adventures. But it wasn’t without its darker moments.

  ~

Dr. Snyder adjusted dials at the control board.

“Montage loading,”

Her assistant Ray stared out a small window at the staging area,

“fMRI activated,”

  ~

Emma was two when her mother abruptly abandoned the family. Bob was eight and according to him, Denise had been taking up with another man during Russell’s frequent long hauls. She decided to start a new life with him. The betrayal devastated Russell. In time he rebounded and was his same old self. Not so much Bob. The abandonment scarred him deeply. As a teen he experimented with drugs then later added alcohol. After an extensive rehab, he seemed to be getting his life together.

  ~

Lights, in the fMRI lab were dimmed. The fMRI machine hummed as its scanning disk moved slowly down the gurney toward Russell’s head. A sleek pair of virtual reality goggles covered his eyes. Two sets of small buds, one for both his ears and another for both nostrils were in place. He waited for the show to begin.

  ~

Bob met and married a beautiful Creole woman named Maria. Emma had never seen her father so happy. “You see Emma,” he told her, “this is what love is and I hope one day you find it too.” Two years later, Emma did when she met Jerry Walsh. Jerry was a dentist with a thriving practice. They loved each other very much and gave Russell two grandchildren whom he adored.

  ~

The circular fMRI scanning disc fit neatly over Russell’s forehead and settled.

           “The subject is ready doctor,” Ray said.

           “What golden oldie did you pick for today’s trip down memory lane Ray?” 

Ray smiled, “Bad Moon Rising, Creedence.” 

Snyder approved, “Good choice.”

  ~

Married life didn’t agree with Bob. His demons returned. He started drinking again. The third time Baton Rouge Police responded to a report of domestic violence he was arrested. The judge ordered him back into rehab and said if he were to ever again strike Maria, he’d go to prison. Bob worked hard to heal and Russell helped him by making sure Maria had whatever she needed in his absence. To Emma, it seemed as if her dad wanted the marriage to work more than either Bob or Maria did. Bob finished rehab, returned home and, by all outwards appearances, things were fine until Maria’s pieces of Maria’s body were found scattered in Southeast Louisiana. When they found her head in a crawfish pond it was enough to arrest Bob for murder.

  ~

The hum of the fMRI grew louder. A glow from the circular scanning ring created a halo-like effect around Russell’s head.

           “Launch montage!”  Snyder hit a button on a control panel.

           “BP 130 over 90.” The nurse monitoring vitals announced.

Out on the gurney, a series of multi-colored pinhead small lights flashed along the edges of the VR Goggles. As if it coming from a great distance the faint sound of the Creedence Clearwater Revival song Bad Moon Rising played.

           “I see the bad moon rising.

           “I see trouble on the way.

           “I see earthquakes and lightning.”

           “I see bad times today.”

  ~

Bob was sentenced to life at Louisiana’s Angola State Penitentiary. Not long after, Russell started to lose his mind to Alzheimer’s. Emma protested to God, ‘He’s too young for this!” Her only brother a murderer and the strongest and best man she’d ever known, her father, was fading away right before her eyes. To her, it was as if the decades of happiness she knew were meant as a set-up or joke and this was the cruel punch line. That’s when Dr. Snyder called.

  ~

       The VR goggles fed a video montage of photos and home movies accompanied the most popular song of the era into Russell’s mind. It was a memory of a high school track meet. As soon as the montage reached the hippocampus it triggered the memory. That’s when all hell broke loose.

           “We’re in!” Dr. Snyder declared.

A skinny, pimply faced Russell in a track uniform was running the 100-yard dash against high school rivals. Along the sidelines his crush Monica cheered. The memory didn’t come as some flat simple recollection of an event. He was surrounded by it! He could hear every nuance of every encouraging cheer.

           “Go Russell, go!” Monica yelled.

           “Take him Maddox! Take him!” his coach screamed.

He could smell the sweat and taste its saltiness. He could feel the wind in his face.

~

The nurse at the vitals monitor called out, “BP 140 over 100!”

      “Relax, "Snyder answered, "He’s running track, it’s supposed to be that way.”

The advanced artificial intelligence program that replicated normal brain activity had hit its mark, the hippocampus where memory is stored.  Once in, the memory came to life in the form of a 360⁰ Technicolor movie complete with Dolby surround sound including every scent, sound and feel of the moment.

~

Russell wasn’t just remembering, he was reliving the moment.

           “Alright! Way to go Russell!” Monica squealed. She and other students rushed out onto the track to lift the teenage version of the man on the slab onto their shoulders. The goggles added a surreal quality to Russell’s memories. Every sight, sound and smell of the event was enhanced. Monica was sexier than she was as a schoolgirl, the cheers were louder. That’s how memories work. Part accurate, part fantasy.

  ~

Dr. Snyder told Emma about the goggles and how her clinic had been contacted to conduct the test. The company had created an algorithm of specific requirements their beta test subject needed to have. The subject had to have enough cognitive brain function and unaffected healthy matter for the program to find a healthy path. In order to endure reliving memories of a stressful or physical nature the subject had to be in reasonably good shape. Russell was one of six who fit the bill to a tee and Emma jumped at the chance to sign anything to restore some vestige of hope for her dad's mind.

Dr. Snyder told her there were no guarantees and the goggles were a treatment, not a cure. Nothing could stop the Alzheimer’s, but the goggles might slow its progress and help Russell lead a somewhat normal life for a few more years. That was good enough for Emma.  Her kids loved the man very much and deserved a chance of creating memories of their own of being with him.

~

It was night. To celebrate Russell’s victory, he and Monica went to a popular roast beef sandwich stand on the beach. Lots of other kids from the school were there so he and Monica didn’t have to spend a dime. Everyone wanted to treat the conquering hero.

           “So Monica, have you decided about the prom?” Russell asked.

           Monica lowered her eyes, “Russell, you know how I feel about

you, right?”

           “I know how I want you to feel,” he answered.

           “I know how you want me to feel too but, I just don’t.”

           “What’s the matter with me?” Russell pled, “Am I ugly or too

skinny?”

            “I think you’re cute. I’ve told you that. Russell, you could ask

any girl to the prom.”

           “I don’t want to go with any girl, I want to go with you.”

          “I’m sorry Russell. I just don’t feel it. A girl’s got to feel it.”

            ~

Under the shield of the goggles the elder Russell’s eyes began to well with tears and his fists clenched. Dr. Snyder and the others in the fMRI lab failed to notice any of it.

  ~

           Russell the teenager and Monica were parked in front of her house. When Monica’s touched his hand, he stared at it.  He continued to stare even as she spoke.

           “Russell, you’re the best friend I have in the world.”

           “Yeah, I know.”

           “I don’t want to hurt you.”

           “Just forget about it, okay? It is what it is.”

Monica sighed, looked toward the front door of her house. The porch light was on.

           “I hope my dad’s asleep.”

           “It’s Saturday night. He gets drunk early on Saturday

nights.”

           “God, I hate that man.”

           “You can come back to my house. We have a guest room.”

           “Right,” Monica mused, “If I didn’t come home my dad

would kill me.”

           “Then I’d have to kill him.”

           “Darn it Russell, I wish I felt it for you. I really do!”

           “Yeah, me too.”

After another glance toward the door Monica slid closer.

           “Kiss me, Russell.”

The request took the teenager by complete surprise.

          “What?”

           “You know how to kiss a girl, don’t you?”

In truth, at this point in his life Russell had never kissed a girl on the mouth and he definitely didn't want Monica to know.

“Of course I do!” he lied.

Monica drew closer and closed her eyes. After a few moments, she opened them,

“What’s the matter? Don’t you want to kiss me?”

Russell sighed, gulped nervously and edged closer to Monica.

 Just then an exaggerated hand, the size of a workbench vise crashed through the passenger side window and grabbed Monica by the throat. The interior of the car suddenly reeked of gin. Monica managed to cry out.

“Russell! Help!”  

The fist around her neck clenched so tight Monica’s head began to swell like a balloon. The goggles had turned the tender teenage moment into a grotesquely graphic adult horror comic book. The boy behind the wheel was stunned speechless. His eyes bulged as Monica was pulled by the throat through the broken shards of glass. Through the shattered pane Russell could see the arm throttle Monica, shaking her head at animated speeds. He couldn’t see the face of the attacker, but he knew who it was.

“You bitch!  That mouth is mine!” It was Monica’s dad.

In the real world, the brute was twice as heavy and half a foot taller than Russell. In this exaggerated place, he was much larger and three times as hostile. The head of the father stuck itself through the window, its neck stretched beyond anatomical possibility. Bearing a mouth of nubby bean brown teeth, the angry dad snarled at Russell.

“Keep your mouth off my daughter! Your hands too!”

  ~

The nurse monitoring vitals in the fMRI room sounded an alarm.

           “BP 170 over 120!” Dr. Snyder and Ray looked out the observation window at Russell lay on the examination table. They could see his breathing was labored and he was sweating.

           “Whattaya think doctor? Should be shut it down?” Ray asked.

           Snyder thought for a moment then smiled.

“You know what I think Ray? I think Russell’s having sex for the first time.” Ray nodded.

“Lucky guy. Imagine getting to do it the first time, twice!”

  ~

Teenage Russell waited behind the loading dock of a warehouse.

~

The adult that lay on a stainless-steel gurney fifty-years in the future could feel the same burning hatred and thirst for revenge his younger self felt. The real Russell even felt the cold steel grip of the .38 caliber revolver as if it were there in his hand, in the fMRI room.

~

The dark gray sky signaled its intent to cooperate with sounds of thunder and lightning, loud enough to mask the sound of gunshot. A loud whistle blew. Blue collar men in grimy work clothes began filtering out of the warehouse. Interpreting the memory as Russell had maintained it, each man was as ugly and hideous as the next. They laughed angry laughs and shared dirty jokes. Teenage Russell was thin enough to hide his entire self behind a nearby oak. Then out came the target, Monica’s father. The hate he felt for this man infected the memory to the point where he seemed more like a twisted, humongous monster than human. A heavy rumble of thunder caused the beast to pause as he lumbered toward his car. The teenager muttered aloud to himself.

           “I’m going to kill you, mother fucker.”

~

Back on the slab, Russell said it too but so quietly, no one heard. 

  ~

Another burst of thunder, this one louder than the first was followed by a crisp crack of lightning. Teenage Russell made his move. As the skies opened and rain fell in exaggerated torrents, the track star dashed across the parking lot. The brute with shoulders as wide as a dumpster kept walking. When the boy reached no-way-I-can-miss distance he raised the pistol and fired. BLAM!

The pistol put a hole in the back of Monica’s dad big enough to see through. The beast turned. Russell wondered, ‘how are you still alive with a hole that big in you!”   Monica’s dad growled. A thick drool of blood flowed from the corner of his mouth. He took a step toward the teenager who fired again. BLAM! The shot hit the man in the nose and now, he had no face. With nothing between his eyebrows and chin, the creature clutched at the air in a desperate attempt to get his hands on his killer. The VR goggles had transformed what was a typical thunderstorm into a perfectly timed background that disguised each of the six rounds deposited into the hulk, the last of which took off a leg. Down the beast went in a bloody perforated heap.

Back on the gurney in the fMRI room the real Russell grinned from under the goggles and whispered to himself.

           “Take that cocksucker.” Again, the comment went unnoticed. The nurse double checked the vitals.

           “BP 190! His heart’s pumping like a steam engine!”

           “Okay, let’s shut it down for the day,” Snyder decided.

~

Buttons were pushed. The fMRI ring glided from Russell’s head. Lights in the room brightened. Lights on the goggles stopped. Dr. Snyder and her right-hand man Ray unbuckled the straps that secured Russell during the ride. They gently removed plugs from his nose and ears and then the goggles. Russell’s face was drenched in sweat as was the upper portion of his hospital gown. He had a smile on his face.

           “Welcome back Mr. Maddox. Did you have a good time?”

Russell slightly nodded, “Yes, very.”

Snyder’s jaw dropped, “Russell? Are you there?”

           “I saw Monica.”

           “Monica? Who’s Monica.”

           “She wanted me to kiss her.”

Ray, whose job was the clinic’s senior orderly, helped Russell sit up.

           “It’s good to have you back old man!” he said joyfully.

           “Back?” Russell seemed confused.

           “Never mind that for now Mr. Maddox. Ray’s going to take you back to your room for a shower then you can have some lunch,” Dr. Snyder said. She turned to give Ray instructions, “Get him cleaned up and uh, give him something solid for lunch, maybe a cheeseburger.”

           Russell perked up, “A cheeseburger?”

Ray put Russell in a wheelchair.

“That’s right old man and maybe some fries!”

It would take a two more VR magic carpet rides, so he'd be well enough to live with Emma and his grandchildren. 

On later journeys Russell would relive the time he happened upon Monica working as a produce manager at a supermarket he made deliveries too. She was so happy to see him. When she got into the glistening refrigerator rig that was Russell’s workplace, he tried to collect on the kiss she promised. Monica was married now and had kids of her own. When she resisted, he drove to a secluded place and slaughtered her in the thirty-below temperature of the trucks trailer. Monica bled to death surrounded by frozen fish sticks. The goggles enhanced the episode so well the real Russell felt all the same sexual pleasure he had the first time.

In another memory, Russell got to relive killing his wife Denise with the same bone chilling cruelty he did Monica, in the Arctic chamber of the truck. Next came Maria, Bob’s wife. Russell pretended to empathize with Maria’s desperate pleas to escape Bob’s beatings and offered a ride all the way to Houston where Maria had family. She got as far as Lake Charles. They found just enough pieces of Maria to convict Bob of murder. By that time Russell illness had set in and the memories were fading fast.

The one downside of the goggles was those on the outside never really knew was Russell was seeing on the inside. They simply assumed he was reliving the montage. So, he was released and lived four reasonably normal years with his daughter and the children who got to know their grandpa better. Each time Emma heard Russell share a memory with the kids, it warmed her heart. Of course, he didn’t share them all. The memories he felt were best left forgotten remained that way, forever.

Memories of my Father is protected under copyright and registered with WGA/West.