Ghost – Chapter 1, Part 2

He’d been concentrating on the boy so much that he hadn’t even heard John walk over, trailing a hazy layer of smoke. Frank’s eyes caught John’s and held them.
“This isn’t a game, John. I can try and suppress the boy’s memory of his girlfriend, but even that makes me very uncomfortable, and it’s unlikely to last long. I will not suppress his grief of Gloria—grief is healthy and something we all need to deal with. And I will not rob him of any memories of his mother, no matter how painful they are.

They’re all that he has left of her. I won’t take them away.”

John was looking at him, the cigarette forgotten and the blue smoke drifting up between them.

Frank grabbed his jaw, meeting his eyes. “He has to grieve over her—she deserves nothing less. Agreed?”

John nodded and Frank let go of his jaw, straightening his jacket before going back to sit down in front of the boy. He noticed that the boy’s eyes were open now and staring at a patch of reflected light on the ceiling, a patch of bright whiteness crisscrossed with thick, black bars.

But the eyes coming open on their own like that—Frank was sure that the boy’s eyes had been closed before he stood up to confront John O’Toole. It was a sure sign that the hypnotic state was weakening. Frank needed to get this finished and get out, and quickly.

“Chris, you might want to close your eyes and relax and think about the room.” At this point, suggestions would probably be more effective than outright commands.

“Yes,” the boy said, and just as Frank was about to continue, he spoke again. “Yes, I can see the room. There are bright bands of dark and light on the ceiling. And I smell smoke, cigarette smoke.”

The boy was incorporating reality into his dream-room. Another sign that he didn’t have forever to complete the procedure.

“Okay, Chris. Now, we need to talk about something else. You’re relaxing in this room, noticing the calming and soothing things around you, and you’re completely comfortable talking about Judy Nelson. Do you want to talk about her?”

“Yes. She is very nice, and very pretty, and I want to marry her. I like to talk about her.”

Frank glanced at John, but John was looking out the window.

“She’s a great person, very wonderful. But she’s in danger, isn’t she?”

Chris nodded, seeming to grow restless. “Yes. She knows me, and people who know my family are in danger. The Lucianos want to kill us.”

“That’s right, Chris. And you don’t want that to happen to Judy, do you?” This was dangerous—Frank was treading a very thin line. If the boy got too upset, he could suddenly emerge from the hypnotic state.

“No. I don’t want anything to happen to her. I love her, even if my father doesn’t want me to be with her. I just wish I hadn’t called her—it caused a lot of trouble.”

Frank shook his head. There was too much of a connection here, too much to gloss over. He had gone into this planning to suppress the boy’s attachment to Jody, but that wouldn’t work. If he saw the girl, his memories would come back as soon as she confronted him.

No, it would have to be all or nothing.

He had to make the boy forget all about Judy Nelson. Every feeling, every memory, everything about her down to the smallest remembrance of her smell and her voice. For her sake, and for the sake of Chris and John.

“Chris, is there a closet or a chest in the room?”

“Yes. There’s a large cabinet against one wall. It’s decorated with lots of gold and frilly stuff, and there are big mirrors on the doors. I can see myself in the doors.”

“Chris, I want you to go to that cabinet and open it.” He waited for a few moments, then continued. “Is there a lot of room inside?”

“Yes. It’s very big. There are shelves, some made of glass.”

“Good. Now, you know that Judy’s in danger, and you’d do anything to protect her, isn’t that right?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, to protect her, you need to conjure up all of your memories of her. Every thought, every action or scrap of emotion you have about her. Can you collect every single memory?”

It took a few long moments, and in that time the boy’s hands rose up off the soft leather of the couch and crossed on his chest again, and the muscles in his neck and arms stood out strongly. His feet moved on their own.

“Okay, Chris, now I want you to take all of your memories and all of your emotions about Judy and put them into the cabinet. They’ll all fit, and if there are shelves inside the cabinet, you can set some of those memories on them. She’s in danger, and putting your memories of her inside the cabinet will protect her. Do you understand?”

“Yes.” Frank could see the boy’s hands moving around slightly, twitching as if he were arranging delicate items. After a moment, the boy seemed to relax, and his feet stopped shaking.

“Okay. Are all of your memories of Judy in the cabinet? Everything you’ve thought about her, every dream you’ve told her about, all the memories you’ve shared?”

“Yes,” the boy said, his voice low and quiet. Frank didn’t know what that meant, other than the boy’s conscious mind might be fighting the extraction of memories. He’d never heard of anyone trying to suppress all the memories of a person, and he had no idea if it would work. Select memories could be suppressed or at least isolated in protective layers, but trying to completely forget someone—was it possible?

“Okay, Chris. To protect Judy, you must forget her. All of your memories of her are inside the cabinet, and if you close the doors you’ll no longer remember her. You must close the door and lock it. We’ll make a key so that later, when she’s no longer in danger, you’ll be able to open that cabinet and remember everything about her. Do you understand?”

A long moment passed, and the boy didn’t answer.

“Chris, do you understand?”

The room was silent. The father, sitting on one of the couches, leaned forward.

Finally, Chris nodded slowly. “Yes, Uncle. But I don’t want to forget her. I love her.”

God, this was going to be trouble. Even unconsciously, he was fighting the exclusion process. There would be trouble down the line when the wall started to weaken. What would happen if he saw the girl? He’d have no memory of her, but she, of course, would remember him. Best to make sure they never met.

“Chris, I know this is difficult for you, but you have to forget her. And after the danger is passed, we’ll meet again and release those memories. Do you want to think up a few words that will be the key?”

“Yes. I want the key to be ‘the pearl is in the river.’”

Clever, Frank thought.

“Why did you choose that particular phrase, Chris?”

“I saw it in a movie last night.”

That wouldn’t do at all—God forbid the kid saw that movie on late-night TV and all his memories came flooding back at once. It could cause a mental break.
“That’s a good phrase, Chris, but let me come up with one for you, okay?”

Dr. Martin glanced around the room, his eyes finding one of his favorite paintings, an ocean scene with a lighthouse and a boat in the distance. He’d always wondered how those folks in the boat felt seeing the lighthouse and knowing they’d soon be rescued.

“Okay, Chris—I’ve got a phrase for you. The key should be, ‘the faded lighthouse caused a wonderful fire.’” Frank couldn’t imagine any conversation in which that particular phrase might come up.

“Now, I need you to close the doors of the cabinet, and in so doing, forget everything you know about Judy. Can you do that?”
The boy was quiet for a long moment.

“Chris, have you closed the cabinet?”

“Yes,” the boy answered, still staring at the ceiling. And in the bright reflection of the dark and light pattern painted on the ceiling of his office, Frank saw a single tear form in the corner of one of the boy’s eyes and fall down his cheek.

Frank heard a loud sigh behind him. He turned and saw that John O’Toole was smiling and lighting another cigarette, but the cool look Frank gave him removed the smile.

“Okay, Chris. Do you have any memories of a person named Judy?”

“Yes.”

“Tell me about her,” Frank said.

“Judy is the lady at the Fairview Heights Library, near the mall,” Chris said. “She is an old lady, and sometimes she smells like freshly baked bread.”

Good. “Do you remember anyone else named Judy in your life, like a friend or schoolmate?”

“No.”

Frank glanced at John one more time, giving him a final chance to back out, but John wouldn’t even make eye contact. Frank nodded and then started with the second thing they needed to accomplish before bringing the boy out. They had agreed to try this only if the first part had gone well. It involved finding a second cabinet in the imaginary room, a larger one this time, that could be unlocked using the same key.

“Okay, now let’s move on. Your name is Chris, right? Chris O’Toole?

“Yes,” the boy answered quietly.

“Okay, let’s look in the room for another cabinet, a different one altogether. And let’s gather up your memories and thoughts about your name . . . ”

This second task didn’t take as long, surprisingly. Dr. Martin thought it would be easier to erase memories of a particular person from a person’s mind than to change their identity, but that didn’t prove to be the case. The procedure was over faster than he had thought possible.

“Okay, you’re still in your comfortable room, but it’s time to leave and start back up the stairs. As you pass from the room, you remember it clearly, and you’ll be much more open to the suggestion of returning to it in the future. Do you see the stairs?”

“Yes,” the boy answered quietly.

“Begin climbing the stairs, and with each step you take, you’ll climb toward wakefulness. And with each step, you’ll repeat your name by saying, ‘my name is Gary, Gary Forman.’ Each step brings you closer to wakefulness, and at the top step, you’ll awaken, feeling refreshed and happy and not remembering anything that we’ve talked about.”

The boy was quiet for a couple of moments, then he began speaking.

“My name is . . . Gary Forman.”

He repeated the name several more times, and then his eyes fluttered and he seemed to come awake, aware of himself and his surroundings. The boy sat up and looked around the room, seeing his father and smiling at him. “Wow. Did I fall asleep or something?” he asked good-naturedly.

His father spoke up. “Yeah, Chr . . . Gary. You fell asleep while your uncle and I were talking. Are you feeling okay?”

Gary nodded. “Yeah, I feel great.”

Agent Sims stepped over and helped the boy to his feet. The other agents moved to the door, stepping out into the hallway, guns drawn.
Frank stepped over to John O’Toole and began speaking rapidly in low tones.

“Look, John, I don’t know how long it will hold. He might never remember her, or he might see a picture of a girl on TV tomorrow that reminds him of her, and the memories will all come back at once. If that happens, he could have a psychotic break. After you testify and the heat is off, you must come back here and let me release those memories, or it could damage him for life. And, needless to say, he and the girl can have no contact until I release those memories. Got it?”

John nodded, obviously anxious to leave. “Yeah, Frank. As soon as the heat is off, I’ll bring him back. And that phrase about the lighthouse, I’ll make sure not to say it,” he said, smiling.

“This isn’t a game, John,” the doctor said again. “Those are his memories, and he has a right to them. Suppressing them isn’t fair to him or the girl. As soon as it’s safe, those memories need to come out. And write down that phrase, just in case, but keep it in a safe place, somewhere where he won’t find it.”

The boy’s father nodded again and turned and left, followed by the boy and Agent Sims.

After they were gone, Frank sat at his desk, thinking about what had happened. If this weren’t a police case, it would make a fascinating paper on exclusionary hypnotherapy. It would be interesting to see how long the mental block lasted—of course, it would need to be removed as soon as possible, but it was still interesting from a clinical perspective. Impulsively, Dr. Frank Martin asked his secretary to cancel his patient load for the rest of the day and left his office to go home and relax.

And he felt like he should write everything down, everything that had just happened, just in case.