“What’s happened?” I asked, straightening and glancing at the door. I didn’t bother to tell her she didn’t need to tell me her name when she called.
“She’s awake,” the nurse whispered.
The hand not holding the phone slammed down on the wooden countertop, making a sharp slapping sound. “When?”
“Just a few minutes ago. The doctor’s still with her. She’ll be going for tests if she stays awake.”
“Is something wrong?” I demanded, the words harsh. “Why wouldn’t she?”
“I don’t know. I’m not a doctor.”
“What aren’t you saying?” I ground out anxiously.
“She was very agitated. Screaming her head off.”
Without another word, I leapt over the counter to land on the other side. “I’ll be there in a few.”
“No!” Mary Beth whisper-yelled.
“Why are you even whispering?” I said, moving with intent through one of the aisles toward the back of the store. “You know damn well everyone who heard her screaming is on the phone, loose tongues wagging.”
“They won’t let you back to see her, even if she is awake. The tests and—”
“Thanks for the info, Mary B.” I cut her off. “You’re my favorite nurse at that old stitch shack.”
I heard her begin to laugh, but I cut the connection before she could say anything else. I didn’t care. The door banged against the wall when I shoved into the back room. My apron hit the table, and I snatched my keys off the hook on the wall.
I still had two hours ‘til closing time. I’d already let Brian go home early, something I was regretting right about now.
She’s awake. Finally. It seemed like forever since I’d barged into the ER with her that night, yelling for a doctor and reluctantly surrendering her to a gurney.
At first, they kept me out of her room, claiming I had no right to be there. I wasn’t a relative or next of kin, so it was against policy to allow my admittance.
After a few days of obeying, I stopped. I’d wait until no one was around and sneak into her room undetected. For a few nights at least. One night, I fell asleep in the chair I’d pulled right beside her bed, and the nurse found me.
I’d gotten a stern lecture out in the hall after she dragged me out by my ear, and they told me if I did it again, they’d call the cops.
The cops didn’t scare me. It was pretty much a laughable threat. Hell, I’d gone to school with half the force. Still, I heeded their warnings and instead set up camp in the waiting room down the hall.
After a couple more weeks, the nurses began to soften, as did the doctors. I didn’t know if it was me they softened toward or her. I didn’t care. All I knew was one night, Mary Beth came into the waiting room and motioned me back down the hall.
“She should have somebody,” Mary Beth told me right outside her door. “And you’re the only one…”
I grabbed the handle to let myself inside. Mary Beth grabbed my arm. Her words were gentle. “Eddie. It’s just not possible,” she’d said, not wanting to be cruel, but also trying yet again to talk sense into me.
I paused mere moments longer, allowing her words to sink in before I started forward again and slipped into the room.
After that night, I visited her every day. Mostly in the evening, but sometimes earlier. I always came when it rained. Always.
The moments I spent in her room were the only ones that didn’t drag since I’d pulled her out of the water. Those were the minutes that ticked by incredibly too fast, speeding toward the time I had to peel myself out of the chair at her bedside and go back to waiting for the next time I was beside her again.
More time passed. She remained unchanged. I went anyway, waiting for this day to come. Waiting for her eyes to open. Waiting for answers.
Back out in the store, I jogged toward the wide, wooden entrance doors and flipped the open sign to closed. We were just going to have to close early tonight. Some of the townies were going to be good and mad, like Scarlet Welding, one of the oldest residents here and definitely one of the spunkiest.
She came in every day before closing to buy herself a fresh green apple. It was her nightly snack with a cup of hot tea. She refused to buy a sack of apples, instead walking to the store each evening to get just one.
With a curse, I raced back inside, grabbed a small paper sack, plucked a plump, shiny green apple off the top of the pile, and dropped it in the bag. On the way past, I snagged a single white rose out of the case and slid it into the sack, a few leaves and the white petals sticking out of the top.
After I closed and locked the doors, I hung the package on the handle. I didn’t worry the apple wouldn’t still be there when she arrived. I knew it would. That’s the way the town of Lake Lochlain was; everyone knew everyone and no one wanted to get in the way of Ms. Scarlet’s nightly apple.
I hurried down the brick sidewalk, past the shops, potted plants, and freestanding chalkboard signs. I didn’t stop to talk to anyone, but remained focused on getting to the small gravel lot at the end of the block where a lot of us town employees parked for the day.
I had no idea what to expect when I got to the hospital. All I knew was finally she was awake.
Silence.
My mind was filled with the kind I found intensely unnerving. Not the kind of silence from the present, but of the past. Currently, my thoughts churned with questions of course.
Why can’t I remember? Who am I? What happened to me? Where is my family? Did I have a family?
Every waking second I had was consumed with trying to understand how I ended up here—wherever that was.
But that was all. There was absolutely no background music in my head. No memories to fall back on when the answers didn’t come. No general wandering of the mind about my favorite color, what kind of food I craved, or even meanderings about my favorite song or the last movie I saw.
It was sort of like staring at a stark-white wall (which this room had plenty of) and waiting for it to mutter a reply.
There was nothing.
I was frightened, but I didn’t know of what exactly. I supposed it would be everything. If I knew nothing, then didn’t I have to fear everything?
I didn’t even know myself to know how I should act right now. What would my “normal” response be to this kind of situation? Was there one?
I had no idea.
The doctors and nurses said my brain just needed time. Time to heal from the injuries, which I was still unclear on, and then everything would come flooding back.
It had been two days since I woke up and couldn’t tell anyone my name. It might not seem like that long in terms of waiting, but when you’re in the middle of a drought, a flood is your savior.
The longer I waited, the more alert I became, the more anxious I grew.
I wanted answers. From the inside of my head and from those around me. I got the distinct impression I was being handled with care, like a piece of fissured glass showing signs of shattering. I didn’t like that feeling, the first actual tangible sense of truth.