Forget Me (Hampton Harbor) (10 page)

I glance at him. "Do I
want to know?"

He continues to look up at
the sky. "Probably not."

I laugh and he does as
well, finally tearing his gaze from the stars. "So about tonight," he
starts. "I was thinking we could catch a midnight movie in town. They only
offer them on Saturday nights."

I nod my head. "That
sounds... normal."

Will brings his hand to his
chest. "Should I be offended?"

"Well," I say.
"Considering on our first date I ended up running away, and our second
date you whisked me away, by boat, to a sand bar, this sounds a little more
expected. Normal sounds nice."

Will smiles. "Well, I
guess I can do normal tonight. I can't promise for the next date though."

He offers me his arm and I
take it. I don't say it, but I am just happy to be with him, normal or not.
 
We
walk out of the marina, up the ramp to the main street, and stop at an ice
cream stand so that I can finally buy him the ice cream I owe him. He gets a
chocolate cone and I follow suit, not really sure which flavor I like the best.
We sit on a bench nearby and watch tourists pass by, commenting on where we
think they are from. Thankfully, I still have an idea of our country’s fifty
states, so I can play along. Finally, we make it to the theater and agree on a
romantic comedy. When the lights dim and the previews start to roll on the big
screen, Will reaches over and slips his hand into mine, lacing our fingers
together.
 

Yes, I am definitely happy to just be
with him.

"Jane. Wake up, Jane."

I open my eyes slowly,
blinded by a bright, golden light above me. It takes me a few minutes to
realize that I am lying in the grass, under an old oak tree.

"You drifted off while
we were playing hide-and-go-seek," the voice says. "It's time to go
home."

I sit up slowly and look toward
the voice. A pretty woman is leaning over me. She uses one hand to smooth the
hair out of my face and then cups my cheek.

"You're absolutely
filthy. We'll have to clean you up before your father sees." She offers me
her hand and I take it. I notice how small, and delicate my own hand looks.

The woman pulls me up and
we start to walk. We are on a hill, looking out over fields of tall corn
stalks. A little boy is running around at the base of the hill. A black and
white dog nips at his feet.

"School starts
tomorrow, Jane," she says.

My name sounds wrong coming
from her mouth, and I realize that even though I hear the name Jane, her mouth
forms a different word.

"Robbie is in
Kindergarten this year, so make sure you help him find his classroom and help
him get on and off the bus alright." She pats my shoulder.

My shoulder barely comes up
to her hip and I look down. I'm wearing a dirty, yellow t-shirt, denim shorts,
and pink jelly sandals.

I'm a child.

"Jane. Wake up, Jane."

My eyes pop open and this
time I'm back in my bedroom, or at least, my bedroom in Charles and Marie's
home. Marie is peeking her head through the door, looking at me expectantly.

"We need to get
going," she says quickly, and then disappears.

I try to wrap my mind
around the dream. I close my eyes and run through it in my head, remembering
every detail. Was it a memory? It felt so real and the woman seems so familiar.
I climb out of bed, change, and comb the knots out of my hair. I slept with it
down, and it brushes out into soft waves, so I leave it. It's so long.

My appointment with
Charles' friend in Bangor is today. Charles and Marie made good on their word
and scheduled my appointment for as soon as possible. I’ve been busy since
then; working and spending my free time with Will. We’ve gone back to the
sandbar twice, seen a few movies, and spent a day at a beach on the south part
of the island.

By the time I get
downstairs, Charles is already in the car and Marie is standing by the door
with her purse. "I've toasted you a bagel to eat on the way. You were
sleeping so soundly through your alarm earlier that I didn't want to wake
you."

I apologize and take the
bagel, grabbing my purse from the hook by the door. I'm not ready to talk about
the dream--or memory--just yet, so I sit in the back seat in silence as we
drive off the island.

"When will Will be back?"
Charles asks.

On Sunday evening, Will
left to go on a boating trip with some of the investors for the marina. He told
me that he, his father, and his older brother try to do this a few times a
year, to bring a more personal side to the business end of the company. He
would also be celebrating his birthday while on the trip, which I was bummed
about at first, but we have plans to celebrate it tomorrow.

"In two days,” I say.

“The same day we leave for
our trip," Charles observes.

Before my accident, and
before I came and rearranged their lives, Charles and Marie had planned a trip
to see Marie’s sister in Florida. I begged and pleaded with them not to cancel
it on my account, and they agreed to still go.

Marie turns in her seat and
smiles at me. I was finally able to fill her in on my dates with Will and she
gushed on and on about young love and how well we were made for each other. I
pointed out the same fears that Will had on our first date, and Marie waved
them away.

"I always believe that
what is meant to be, will be," Marie told me. "I do not believe for
one second that you stumbled upon us by accident."

She sounds so sure of
herself in that moment, and I grow minutely suspicious.

Charles and Marie talk the
whole way to Bangor, and I vaguely listen to their conversation. They talk
about their upcoming trip to Florida and everything they want to see while they
are there. They talk about the cafe and how things are going on the business
end of things. Charles talks about his recent games of golf with his fellow
retired colleagues. When we finally pull into the parking garage at the
hospital, I sigh with relief. It's almost over.

My stomach feels as though
it was dragged the whole way here, and my toes and fingers tingle enough that
they feel numb. I follow Charles and Marie through the parking garage and into
a door on the second level.

"You'll love Dr.
Morgan," Marie tells me. "He has been doing this for years and years.
He is going to retire in the Fall."

We turn down hallway after
hallway, finally stopping in front of a set of elevators. We stop on the fourth
floor and exit into another hallway. Charles leads us through a door at the
end, and
we are greeted by a receptionist
. Her nametag
tells me that her name is Helen and the sign in front of the desk says
Phillip
Morgan M.D.

"Good morning, Dr.
Albright," Helen chirps happily. "Dr. Morgan is expecting you right
away. You can see yourself back."

Charles nods and we follow
another hall to a large door at the end, which leads to Dr. Morgan’s office.
That is the first time I've heard anyone call Charles something so formal. Even
at the cafe, the regulars call him by his first name.

          
 
He knocks on the door and a male voice
calls for us to come in. We enter into his office, which is large and decorated
with modern taste. His desk, the shelves, and even the chairs, are all made
from a sleek, black material. The carpet is silver, as are the window
treatments and decorative pillows. Several framed certificates hang on the
wall, along with some portraits. I recognize Charles in a few of the pictures.

There are three seats in
front of his desk, and we each take one. I sit between Charles and Marie, and
the arrangement makes me feel as small as the child in my dream.

"I'm pleased to meet
you, Jane," Dr. Morgan says. "Charles and Marie have had such good
things to say about you."

"Its nice to meet you
too. So, they've told you about my situation? I look up at him.

He is a kind looking man,
with a well-wrinkled face and salt and pepper hair. His brown eyes are almond
shaped, and even though he is seated, I can tell that he is a short man.

"Yes, they have,"
he responds. "And while I may not agree with Charles methods, I trust
him."

I don't completely follow
his train of thought but I just nod.

"I'll take you back to
an exam room, if that is okay with you. Charles and Marie can wait here."

I nod and stand. Dr. Morgan
pats Charles on the shoulder.

"Try not to eat all
the Rolos out of my dish, Charles." The men both laugh and I shift
uncomfortably.

Dr. Morgan grabs a chart
from a file holder attached to the back of his door, and he leads me back down
the hall that led us to his office. We go into an empty exam room, and I find
that it is designed similarly to his office. He sits in a rolling chair by a
small desk and I shimmy up onto the paper covered exam table.

"Before we start I
have a few questions." He looks at a blank chart in his hands.
"Normally I do all this on the computer but since you're a new patient, we
will have to start a new record for you."

I don't like the sound of
having any of this recorded, but I don't want to subject Dr. Morgan to any
malpractice.

"Tell me what you
remember from before the accident," he says.

I shrug. "I don't
remember anything."

"Nothing?" He
sounds skeptical. "Marie says you've managed to function quite normally
since waking up. That would mean that you at least remember how to do everyday
tasks."

"Well, I guess
so," I answer.

"Do you know what this
is called," he raises the clipboard.

"A clipboard." I
say the answer slowly, wondering if this is a trick.

"So you do remember
more simple things," he says.

I nod. "I know what
different types of boats are, I know that hot dogs taste good with mustard on
them and that planes fly in the sky. I know how to pour myself cereal in the
morning and how to read a book. I know that I'm supposed to shampoo and
condition my hair, and that I should get the split ends cut." I hold up
the ends of my hair as if to prove a point.

Dr. Morgan looks
inquisitive. "So you seem to know a good deal of information, except for
anything that has to do with you personally."

"I don't remember my
name, where I am from, if I have parents, siblings, or even a boyfriend. I
don't know what I did for work before this. I don't even know how old I
am." My voice cracks slightly at the end. "I don't even recognize my
own face when I look in the mirror. I've taken to avoiding my own reflection
when I'm in the bathroom or getting ready."

Dr. Morgan nods and makes
some notes. "Sometimes, with amnesia patients, we find that the brain
shuts out the darkest and most painful memories when faced with a traumatic
event. For you, the traumatic event was hitting your head on the dock. Charles
and Marie say that you were running when it happened. Do you think maybe you
were running from someone else?"

I stare at him with an open
mouth and shrug. "I don't know."

"Have you had any
flashes of images recently, or maybe a dream that may have elicited some
familiar things," he asks.

"I had a dream last
night," I tell him. "I can still remember it vividly." I recount
the details to him.

"So these people and
this place seemed familiar?" he asks.

"Very, especially the
woman. It was like I was looking at parts of myself, except older." I tell
him.

Dr. Morgan nods. "So
maybe your mother." He makes another note on the chart. "Sometimes
memories start to come back in an odd order. It may start with a memory from
when you are young, which is why you felt so short in your dream, and then
something recent will flash into your mind. The fact that you remembered
something this morning is a good sign. It will start slow but you should start
to recall more over the next few weeks."

"So you do think that
was a memory?" I ask.

"I think the fact that
it feels familiar, and that you remember every detail, means yes. You aren't
recalling a dream, Jane. The memory has been in your mind all along, and it is
just now making itself known. Since you don't have any other memories right
now, it will feel very vivid and very recent for a while. The more and more
memories that return, the more jumbled they'll feel."

He sets his chart down and
stands up to wash his hands. "I'll take your vitals, and then my nurse
will come in and we'll run a few other tests. Hopefully in a few days we'll
have some more answers for you."

Dr. Morgan takes my blood
pressure and looks in my ears, nose, and throat. He checks my reflexes and
presses on my lower stomach a few times. He calls for a nurse and a older woman
comes into the room, carrying a tray of medical instruments. She takes six
vials of blood and then brings me into the hall, where we check my eyesight,
weight, and height. The whole exam takes less than thirty minutes, and soon we
are back in Dr. Morgan's office.