“Okay fine. Except I have no memories of dating anybody special either.”
“Perhaps he wasn’t special at the time, but became special to you later.”
Gaia shrugged. She was quiet for a long moment. “I don’t want to meet him, Sheila. Is that terrible?”
The nurse sighed. She plopped down next to Gaia on the hospital bed. “It’s not terrible. I would think it’s to be expected.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean whether you choose to admit it or not, you’re probably hoping that seeing himwillbring back your memories.” She ran a motherly hand over her brow. “I imagine deep down inside you fear that if your memories don’t come crashing back the second you see him that they might be lost forever.”
Gaia nibbled at her bottom lip. The older nurse was nothing if not perceptive.
“You’ve put off this meeting for far too long as it is,” Sheila pointed out. “Now you’re going to be released from the hospitaltoday. Do you really want to be homeless when you have a home to go to?”
“A home I have no recollection of.”
“Yet it’s still your home regardless.”
“Maybe.” She ran a punishing hand through her hair. “I can’t begin to describe how hard this is, Sheila. I wouldn’t even know my own name if it hadn’t been on my wristband when the doctors woke me up from the medically induced coma. Even then I kept mispronouncing it!”
The nurse chuckled, taking some of the sting out of the memory. “I know. You kept calling yourselfGay-uhinstead ofGuy-uh.” She smiled as she patted her on the knee. “But eventually you got it right and you’ve beenGuy-uhever since.”
“What if you all have been mispronouncing it the entire time and I was initially right?”
Sheila’s smile was sad. “You know why that isn’t possible, dear.”
Right. She did. The doctors had already informed Gaia of the fact that a friend of hers had kept calling out for her when both of them had been brought into the emergency room.“Guy-uh!”she had phonetically cried out over and over again.“Guy-uh!”The friend, a woman she had no memory of, had apparently been named Mary. Unfortunately, Mary hadn’t survived. She succumbed to her injuries within a few hours of arriving at George Washington University Hospital. Similar to Gaia, Mary had been shot at point blank range. Every time Gaia thought about the fact she’d been shot in the head during a civil war she had no recollection of…
It was too much. A civilwar? And why would anyone want to shootherof all people?
The five or so years leading up to her lengthy hospitalization had been stolen from her, but she more or less recalled everything prior in as much as humans are apt to do. There were exceptions even then, as she was still regaining lost childhood memories. That qualifier aside, she did remember enough to know that although she wouldn’t ever qualify for sainthood, she’d been a good person who was decent to everyone she met. She was kind, considerate, and recalled being well-liked. She’d worked two jobs and took college classes at night and online. In essence, she was just a normal American female. That’s why the idea of someone shooting her in the head during a civil war she held no memories of was so utterly foreign and bizarre to her.
Sheila had explained to Gaia countless times that in all her years of working at GWUH she’d yet to see a violent act that made good enough sense. She supposed the nurse’s words were true, but she still wished she had at least a hazy recollection of what led up to the moment that changed everything.
“Now then,” Sheila said, jarring her from her thoughts, “your husband will be here to retrieve you in an hour. Let’s finish getting your things together.”
“Sheila—”
“You don’t have anyone else, Gaia.” Her heart was in her eyes. “I’m sorry, honey, but you don’t. You said it yourself that your last solid memory was holding your mother’s hand as she surrendered to cancer. Your father died a decade before that and you’re an only child. Those are the things youdoremember.” Her voice was soft, but her words were firm. “Your husband misses you. He was here to see you every day while you were in the coma. It wasn’t until you woke up and the doctors realized you had amnesia that he was discouraged from coming to see you. They feared overwhelming you.”
And then when Gaia’d been told about his existence she’d freaked out and stupidly refused to see him. The staff hadn’t even been able to get her to look at photographs of him. Now, in an hour, she was expected to go “home” with the mystery man. The only things she really knew about him were what she’d already been told: his name was Ryan, he was fifteen years older than her thirty-two years, he was involved in politics somehow, and he was her husband.
Husband. The word sent a shiver down her spine. No, Gaia truly didn’t have anyone else, but neither did she want him in particular. She might not have been able to recall the last several years, but the woman she did remember wouldn’t have known how to—or even wanted to—meet a politician much less marry one.
She sighed. Being married to a politician at least explained how she’d ended up in a hospital in Washington D.C.—a city she also had no recollection of. Born and raised in Atlanta, she’d been a Georgia girl her entire life. Yet here she sat in a hospital bed in the District of Columbia.
“Do you want to wear the pantsuit your husband sent over or—”
“No.” Gaia had never been into fashion—of this she was certain. What had happened to cause her wardrobe to become soVogue-esque? She supposed marrying a politician was responsible for that. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you.” She cleared her parched throat as best she could. “I just want to wear the clothes I remember. Maybe the matching gray yoga pants and t-shirt with my white tennis shoes?”
Sheila looked horrified, but quickly hid her initial reaction. One of Gaia’s eyebrows rose inquisitively.
“I’m sorry,” the nurse assured her. “It’s probably fine to dress down the day you’re released.”
“Dress… down?”
“Given your place in society I just assumed you’d want to look the part.”
