“I heard what you did today, Dr. Criss. It sounds pretty badass.”
DoctorCriss. Few people in this town use the title, but Carter’s kid is nothing if not extremely polite. It’s strange to hear it. And still mind blowing that I have an actual medical degree.
I check my phone impatiently, as I’ve done at least a dozen times, awaiting a text from Patrick.
Carter rounds the corner. “I know I didn’t just hear my kid say badass.”
“I’m fourteen, Dad.” Christian rolls his eyes. “And badass is hardly a curse word.”
“How do you know about it?” I ask.
“His girlfriend works at the coffee house,” Carter says.
I look at Christian in amusement as my mind pages through the girls who work there.“Bugis your girlfriend?”
He playfully swats his dad. “She’s not my girlfriend,” he says, although not very convincingly. “She’s myneighbor.” Also not very convincing.
I laugh. “But she wasn’t even working today.”
“Yeah, but Leah called her and told her everything, and then she told me. Did you really cut into a guy’s throat?”
I look down at my hands that are now holding a torque wrench. It’s hard not to smile. “It’s called a tracheotomy. He was choking and couldn’t get any air.”
Carter shakes his head. “You saved a life today. Dude, how is that even possible?”
I still find it hard to believe myself. “I didn’t know what I was capable of until it happened. It’s like I instinctively knew what to do.”
Christian perches against the rear quarter panel of my Charger. “I don’t understand it, Dr. Criss. You didn’t remember us, or your family, but you know how to be a doctor?”
“It’s really hard to explain, Christian. Sometimes I don’t even understand it myself. Life experiences and factual knowledge are stored in different areas of the brain. So one can go away without losing the other, if that makes sense.”
“Are they still in there somewhere?” he asks with a cock of his head. “Your life experiences?”
“Yeah, I think they are. I just can’t get to them.”
“Maybe they can put one of those caps with all the wires on your head and extract your memories and then you can look at them like a movie.”
I don’t bother telling him it wouldn’t make a difference. That doing that would be no different than what’s actually been happening: people telling and showing me who I was. That until and unless I remember them myself, the emotional connection just isn’t there.
Carter scoffs. “I think you watch too much Sci-Fi, kiddo.”
Christian shrugs. “It could happen.”
Carter points to the shop. “Who’s manning the desk if you’re out here chatting with Trevor?”
“Aunt Mia told me to take a break.”
Carter’s phone chimes. “Break’s over. Mia’s on tow duty, and we just got a call.”
“Bye, Dr. Criss.”
I lift my chin. “See you later, Christian.”
Carter lets out a slow whistle as he walks around the back of my car. “Nice job on the bumper. Looks like saving lives isn’t the only thing you know how to do.” He runs a finger along the shiny chrome. “It must be really odd for you to know how to do all this and still not know yourself.”
Carter and I don’t really talk about my situation. I think he understands that everyone else in this town is coming on strong. I’m not even sure he realizes that he’s my safe space. So it comes as a surprise to me when he makes that comment. Strangely enough, I’m not put off by it. We’ve become friends—again—organically, and I feel like nothing I say will be judged.
“In a way, I’m actually pretty lucky. Some people who experience a TBI like I did are a lot worse off. They lose things like motor control. They don’t even know how to walk, eat, or take a piss. And they usually require extensive physical therapy to improve coordination and establish new neural pathways.”
