Free bird

Jemma's earliest memories were of Houston. They weren't big or special memories. They were the ordinary ones that somehow stayed with her. She remembered sitting on the kitchen counter while her dad tried to make breakfast. She remembered the old fan in their living room that made a strange clicking sound whenever it turned. She remembered Sunday mornings when Ed would play music while he cleaned the house, even though Jemma always complained that he wasn't very good at choosing songs. Most of all, she remembered her dad. It had always been just the two of them. Jemma's mother died when she was born, so there was never a time when she remembered what it felt like to have both parents around. Ed rarely talked about that day. Whenever Jemma asked, he would give her the same simple answer. "Your mother loved you very much." Jemma accepted that. She had no reason not to. Ed had made sure she never felt like she was missing anything. He packed her lunches, helped with homework, attended school events, and learned how to do things he probably never expected to learn. Like fixing Jemma's hair. He wasn't very good at it. "Don't move," he would say, standing behind her with a hairbrush. "You always say that." "Because you always move." "I'm not moving." "You are." And somehow, after several minutes of struggling, Jemma would walk out of the house with something that was supposed to be a ponytail. She never complained. Those were the days Jemma remembered most fondly. Before everything changed. When Jemma was seven, Ed told her they were moving to Minnesota. She didn't take the news well. "Why?" "Because I got a new job." "But why can't you get a new job here?" Ed laughed softly. "It doesn't really work that way." "I don't want to go." "I know." "I like Houston." "I know that too." Jemma crossed her arms and looked away. Ed sat beside her. "It'll be okay." She didn't answer. At seven years old, Jemma didn't understand that sometimes adults had to make decisions that children didn't like. She only knew that she was leaving everything she knew behind. The first few months in Minnesota were difficult. It was colder than Houston, and Jemma complained about it constantly. Then she met Eliana. Eliana sat beside her during lunch one day and started talking as if they'd known each other for years. Jemma barely said anything. Eliana didn't seem to notice. John joined them a few days later, and somehow the three of them became friends. They were different from one another, but it worked. Eliana was the talkative one. John was usually the calm one. Jemma was somewhere in between. Before long, they were walking to class together, doing homework together, and getting into trouble together. Minnesota didn't feel so strange anymore. For the first time since moving, Jemma started feeling like maybe Ed had been right. Maybe a new place really could become home. She was ten when the headaches started. At first, Ed didn't think much of them. Jemma would come home from school, drop her bag by the door and say, "Dad, my head hurts." Ed would tell her to drink some water and get some rest. Sometimes she did. Sometimes she didn't. Then the headaches started happening more often. They became bad enough that Jemma would lie in bed with the curtains closed because even the light bothered her. Ed began to worry, but Jemma always insisted she was fine once the pain passed. One evening, after finding her lying on the couch with her eyes closed, he sat beside her. "You've been getting these headaches a lot lately." Jemma shrugged. "Maybe you're still homesick." "I'm not homesick." "You sure?" "Yeah." Ed smiled. "Okay. I just thought maybe you were missing Houston." Jemma opened one eye. "I miss your pancakes." "That's completely understandable." She laughed. For a while, that was all it seemed to be. Headaches. Tiredness. Maybe stress. Then Jemma started forgetting things. Nothing important at first. She forgot where she'd left her notebook. She forgot that Eliana had already told her something. She forgot conversations. One morning, Eliana was talking to her before class. "Remember what I told you yesterday?" Jemma frowned. "What?" Eliana stared at her. "The thing about my cousin." "Oh." Jemma smiled, hoping that would be enough. But Eliana knew her too well. "You seriously don't remember?" Jemma shook her head. Eliana laughed a little. "Wow. You really forgot." Jemma laughed too, but she didn't find it funny. Later that day, she sat in class trying to remember what they had talked about. She couldn't. And that scared her. The headaches became worse after that. Some days, they came suddenly and left her unable to concentrate. Other days, they stayed for hours. Jemma started missing parts of conversations because she couldn't focus. She also started keeping little notes for herself. Things she needed to remember. Homework. Meetings. Things her friends had told her. Sometimes she would read a note and wonder why she'd written it in the first place. She didn't tell Ed. Not immediately. She knew how much he worried. Then came the nosebleeds. The first one happened at school. Jemma had been sitting in class when a headache started. It was worse than usual. She put her head down on the desk and tried to breathe through it. When she lifted her head, her teacher noticed something. "Jemma, your nose is bleeding." Jemma touched her nose. Her fingers came away red. She stared at them. "Oh." Her teacher was beside her almost immediately. "Come with me." Jemma didn't argue. By the time Ed arrived at school, she was sitting in the nurse's office with tissues pressed beneath her nose. He walked through the door and immediately looked worried. "What happened?" Jemma looked at him. "My nose started bleeding." "And your head?" "It hurts." Ed crouched in front of her. "How bad?" Jemma didn't answer. She didn't know how to explain it. Bad wasn't enough. The pain felt like it was taking up her entire head. Ed looked at the nurse, then back at his daughter. "We're going to the hospital." Jemma nodded. She didn't have the energy to argue. On the drive there, she rested her head against the window. The world outside passed by quietly. After a few minutes, she spoke. "Dad?" "Yeah?" "Can I ask you something?" "Anything." Jemma hesitated. "Have I always been this forgetful?" Ed glanced at her through the rearview mirror. For a moment, he said nothing. "No," he finally answered. Jemma looked back out the window. Neither of them spoke again. Neither of them knew it yet, but that hospital visit was going to change their lives. And Jemma's life was never going to feel quite as simple again.