“How’s the back pain today, kid? One through ten,” Aden asked as he sat in front of me.
We went through our usual routine. Small exercises. Stretches. And now, questionnaire time. I’ve seen five physical therapists since my accident. None of them experienced brain injuries themselves. And none of them checked in like Aden did. He never pushed me to give him more than I wanted. I enjoyed not feeling pressured.
I settled onto the leather couch across from him. “Six."
He nodded and made a note in his folder. “You good with that, or are we looking to up your dosage?”
“Maybe a bit.” I accepted, long ago, that a completely pain-free life would not be in my cards. Numbing it was the best we could do.
He smiled at me. “Sounds like a plan.”
We watched one another for a moment. He tapped his pen against his mouth. It took me a few sessions to understand his silence was purposeful, giving me the opportunity to elaborate. Today would be the first day I took him up on the offer.
“Can I ask you about your injury and recovery?”
He didn’t miss a beat. Aden leaned back in his chair, crossing his ankle over his leg like he had all the time in the world. Like I was his only patient.
“I’m an open book. What do you want to know?”
I rested my elbows on my knees, leaning closer because a few of the guys from the team were walking past in the hallways. Aden’s door was only partially closed.
“You said you had memory loss, right?”
He nodded. “Yup. Strangest thing I’ve ever gone through. Like reaching for a cup that isn’t there. Someone told you it exists, but you can’t remember setting anything down.”
I sighed, shoulders relaxing because he got it.
“You still struggling to regain some of your lost time?” Aden raised a brow when I nodded. “How much?”
I cleared my throat. “Just…some personality stuff. For example, Lincoln asked me what flavor ice cream I wanted the other day. I said, strawberry. According to him, I hated strawberries. Small thing but it got me wondering, how much of me is…”
“Lost somewhere?” he filled in.
“Yeah.” I chewed on my inner cheek. The more words spilled out, the more I realized how scary this felt. “We’re our memories, right? And because I don’t know what I lost, I don’t think I’m the same person. If I’m not the same person… What should I do? Try to get him back? Become him?”
Aden pressed his lips together, considering. “Humans are in a constant state of evolution. Most of us don’t remember who we were when we were three years old. People past seventy probably don’t recognize their twenty-year-old selves.”
I rubbed my temple. “No, of course, I get that, but…”
“You’ve lost your building blocks.” Aden nodded. “I understand.”
“I don’t know the guy I see in the mirror,” I said. “Literally couldn’t tell anyone what I looked like.”
“It’s up to you to figure out who he is today. You don’t have to figure out who you were. You can build him. Who do you want to be, Finn?”
I shook my head. “Sometimes, I want to be who I was because people liked him. But I can’t help thinking maybe I should start over. New town, new friends, new everything. It’d be easier. Simple.”
“If that’s really how you feel, you should. Except, from the way you sound, I don’t think you want to lose the people you have.”
My jaw tightened. Aden sensed my frustration.
“You don’t have to figure everything out in one day. It takes a lifetime to become who you’re meant to be. And even that’s not long enough.”
I unclasped and re-clasped my fingers, considering his words. He waited patiently as I tried to build my courage and confess one more thing.
“A part of me is afraid of becoming anything again. I don’t know if this makes any sense,” I cut myself short, getting insecure about voicing the fear that’d burrowed itself deep inside me.
“Doesn’t have to make sense,” Aden insisted. “It’s okay to ramble.”
