Memories Of Us

Chapter 3

~ Abi ~

I was supposed to have a midterm today. I was supposed to get up, fight with Tricia over who ate the last of the cereal and should go to the market, and then I was supposed to go to class, write a brilliant essay, meet with my academic advisor, and then come home in time to get ready for 'Merlot and a Movie' at the arts center. Jack's been excited about it all week. Now I have doctors hovering all around, asking me what day it is, what my name is, to follow the flash of a penlight when all it does is hurt my eyes. Why won't they tell me what's going on? My head hurts.

"I want my Dad."

My voice sounds awful. The one in pink scrubs, with 'Sharon' embroidered on the breast pocket, nods and walks away.

"Abi?" This doctor has light blue scrubs and sandy blonde hair. She looks kindly at me. "How are you feeling?"

"Tired... and confused," I whisper. Whispering is good, it hides the fact that my voice sounds so terrible.

"Are you feeling any pain?" she takes my left hand... ugh, what happened to my right arm? I'm never going to get any writing done with this thing. And it does hurt a bit, I realize. So does my pounding head.

"My arm hurts... my head a little more."

She nods, readjusting a bag of fluids dangling above me. The relief is almost instantaneous. My eyes roll back before closing.

"Thank you," I whisper.

"Whatever you need, we'll see that you get it," she tells me. "Can we talk for a bit?"

I open my eyes, and she's seated herself next to me. Where the copper-haired angel was... why was he so sad?

"Abi, do I look at all familiar?"

My eyes are still adjusting, but I'm pretty sure I've never seen her before. It feels... wrong, to let her down.

"I'm sorry," I say.

She nods, kindly, but looks saddened. "That's all right, dear. I'm Dr. Trevelyan, but you can call me Grace. Would you mind telling me the last thing you remember?"

I think, hard. It sends my thoughts out of focus, like the second-guessing I feel on multiple-choice tests. I hate those. "Um... I remember I'm supposed to have midterms today. Can I go soon? I need to make sure my professors know I'm not skipping class. I’m graduating in a couple months." I swallow, my throat now dry from the exertion of forced speech. Grace looks at me, sadly.

"Abi, you don't have to worry about that, all right?" she reassures me. I'm not the best at reading people, but I know when someone's holding back. What is it?

I look toward the cup of water at the side table. Dr. Grace expertly understands and retrieves the cup, bringing the straw to my lips. The water tastes stale and antiseptic, but it's thoroughly quenching. "We'll have something better brought to you soon, when your specialist clears you."

"Um... does my Dad know? He's my emergency contact. He lives in Montesano." I just want my Daddy. I need a familiar face. My face itches, and my arm is too weak for me to lift my hand to scratch. It's terribly uncomfortable.

Dr. Grace must sense my unease. "Your parents are both on their way up, they should be here in ten minutes." she promises.

Mom too? How did she get here so fast? Unless... oh no. My bottom lip quivers. "How long did I sleep?"

"About a month," she tells me, her voice full of sympathy. "We're all very happy to see you awake, Abi. You sustained a terrible head injury, and we weren't sure you'd come back to us."

A month? Is she serious? Oh... graduation is so not happening now. I want to cry, but I don't think my body has the strength. "Why is it so hard to move?"

"Your muscles are in a state of pre-atrophy," she explains. "You didn't use them for a long time, so it's going to take a bit of therapy to get you back to where you were before." There's still something she's not telling me.

"There's more... isn't there," I ask. I don't want to know, but I need to know. But I don't want to. s**t, I'm scared. It must show on my face, because Dr. Grace picks up my hand again. I swallow, hard.

"Some time has passed from what you last remember. Quite a lot more than a month, actually," she explains, speaking slowly, carefully. "The head injury you sustained seems to have caused some memory loss. It's called retrograde amnesia, and it's incomplete, meaning you respond to your name and remember specific details, but there seems to be a period of about three years that you're missing."

What? I gasp, and my chest heaves in a fit of coughing. "You're kidding, right?" I say when I've recovered. I'm suddenly very tired, the spasms having drained all of my energy.

"Believe me, I wish we were having a very different conversation right now," she says knowingly.

I don't have much left in me, but I need to know something while I can still keep my eyes open. "The nurse... she called me Mrs. Green..."

Dr. Grace nods. "That's because it's your name. Abigail Rose Green. You married my son, Carl."

What? That's impossible. Who? The copper-haired angel? That can't be... this can't be real. I'm going to wake up and it'll be some sick, twisted dream. It's the stress of exams. Yes, that's it. I can't be married, I've not even passed second base. No, this can't be real. My eyes unfocus, but whether from exhaustion or the overwhelming and unbelievable conversation I've just had, I have no idea. The ceiling spins and goes dark.