Hours later, I’m eagerly awaiting the arrival of Jenny. Not in any emotional way, but because she’ll be able to fill in the blanks. My real hope is she won’t even have to. That when I see her, my memory will come flooding back in an instant, and all this not knowing and living in this perpetual state of purgatory will simply vanish.
My heart thunders with anticipation when the door opens and a woman walks through, trailed by one of the nurses.
Tears well in the woman’s eyes as she approaches. “Jimmy!”
I study Jenny as she inches near, waiting for the flood of memories, straining into the farthest reaches of my mind to remember the girl who is my sister. Mytwin. Don’t all twins have some ethereal connection to each other? Shouldn’t that alone have me snapping back into place?
But there’s nothing. Not a single twitch, twinge, or flicker.
Her arms are outstretched by the time she reaches the bed. She’s about to hug me, when she stiffens and retreats a few steps, studying me the entire time.
She turns to the nurse. “This is the wrong room.”
“No, ma’am,” the nurse says. “This is room 512. James Davis.”
Jenny’s chin quivers as her head shakes over and over. She collapses onto a chair in the corner and closes her eyes. Then sheannounces with complete and total devastation, “This man isn’t my brother.”
I’m staring out the window, but I’m looking at nothing. My fists are clenched so tightly my short fingernails are digging into the palms of my hands. I try to relax to no avail. Because if the past few days weren’t enough of a shitshow, now even the medical staff have no idea who I am.
There is such a clusterfuck of emotions swirling through my head right now, I can’t figure out which way is up.
After Jenny left yesterday, a dozen new people came in to have a look at me and interview me, pouring over me like I’m some newly discovered animal in the Amazon rainforest.
I look at the whiteboard that has all the information on me and my care team. The name James Davis has been erased and replaced with John Doe.
Erased. Just like my entire goddamn life.
The door opens and three people come in—my two doctors and a third man wearing fatigues. He marches straight over to me and looks me right in the eye. Then he smiles.
“Yup. I’d recognize that ugly mug anywhere, even with the lumps, bumps, and bruises.” He puts his left hand on my shoulder. “I’ve been told I’ll need to re-introduce myself since you took a good thwack to the skull. Ha! There’s a good ol’ medical term for you.” He holds out his right hand. “I’m your direct superior, Lt. Colonel Lance Sharp. And you, my friend, are Major Trevor Criss. Or, if you prefer,Dr. Trevor Criss.”
I’m too stunned to shake his hand, even though it would be impossible with my casted arm. He doesn’t seem too put off by it though.
I look around the room. “I’m a… doctor?”
“One of the best trauma surgeons I’ve ever had the pleasure of mentoring.”
My jaw is in my lap. “Seriously?”
He might as well have told me I’m an astronaut.
Dr. Schulz approaches. “Makes a lot more sense now, you seeming to know so much about medicine.”
“A trauma surgeon,” I say hesitantly. “As in I carve people up and look at their insides?”
“As in you save lives,” Lt. Colonel Sharp says.
“How…?”
I can’t even complete the question. So much is going through my head right now. I was just beginning to wrap my mind around being a soldier. Coming from Tuscaloosa. Having a twin sister.
“How did we mix you up with Lieutenant Davis?” he asks, verbalizing the thought for me.
I nod.
Lt. Colonel Sharp looks at the other doctors for confirmation. I guess they’re all in agreement that I can know the forthcoming information, because he starts talking.
“What do you know about the circumstances behind your injuries?”
