His belief that it was 2014 explained why he didn’t know me. We’d met in 2015. It didn’t explain how he’d forgotten his brother, adopted or not. They’d been family since they were seven years old. Something else was wrong that I couldn’t put my finger on.
Brandon recited his address, his locker combination from high school, and listed a dozen presidents, moving backward in chronological order. He’d never believe who the current president was, but that was a separate matter. Very few people had seen Donald Trump coming. That was something you had to live in order to believe. There was nothing wrong with Brandon’s long-term memory, except that he didn’t know his brother. Then it clicked.
“Ask about your parents.Where they live.”
“What about Mom and Dad?” said Christopher. “Where do they live?”
This was a trick question. In 2014, they’d lived in the house that was now Christopher’s. They moved to Florida in 2015, though I’d never met them. I’d never been “meet the parents” material. I’d thought Brandon, and I had been serious, but that was another sign that we hadn’t been close.
“Who?” Brandon said.
His face had no expression, and his voice was flat. He looked around the room bored, like he was watching paint dry.
That’s when I realized the piece that I’d been missing. Brandon didn’t feel emotion. He remembered facts, but nothing with emotional attachments. No former girlfriend, no brother, no parents. The antivenom had countered the anaphylactic-like reaction to the serum itself, but the serum had been successful at removing the emotional component from his working memory. It inhibited memories. Brandon had become an emotional blank slate. The scientist version of a super soldier.
Christopher’s arms remained crossed, and he looked like he wanted to argue, but he kept his mouth shut. He’d rant later. There was a cost to staying quiet and it would eat him alive. Normally, he was a yeller, expressing his thoughts as needed. He wasn’t one to bottle them up. I needed to talk to him, to help him understand my latest theory. The serum took detachment to a whole different level.
“Tell him it isn’t 2014,”I said, since it didn’t appear anyone else was going to tell Brandon.
Christopher did as I suggested and included the current date. Brandon had no reaction.
We’d just told him he was missing three years of his life and he acted like he was bored or impatient.
“How long will I have to remain in the hospital?” said Brandon. “I don’t feel sick, just hungry. I have important work that has been neglected while I’ve been here.”
“You’ll need to stay at least another forty-eight hours,” said the doctor. “I’m concerned about the loss of time you’ve experienced and we have several standard tests for recovering coma patients. We need to evaluate your motor skills, memory, and physical status. We need to determine if there will be lasting effects on your brain function from the coma.”
“My brain function is fine,” said Brandon, still without inflection. “I’d appreciate it if you two would leave,” he said to us. “My medical matters are none of your concern.”
I understood, but Christopher flinched, struggling with the words of rejection.
“I don’t know you,” Brandon said. “You don’t belong here. If I have questions about my life that I can’t answer, I’ll call after your identity has been verified. What did you say your names are?”
“This is Elizabeth Bergstrom and I’m Christopher Winters, your brother.”
I rested my hand on Christopher’s arm. It was rock hard with tension and he was shaking.
“Right. I trust if you’re my brother, your number will be on my phone. I’ll call if I need something.” Brandon looked away, dismissing us without another glance.
I stood on tiptoe and whispered, “Let’s go.” I took Christopher’s hand and led him from the room.
He stayed silent only until the door was closed.
“What the hell happened? What went wrong?”
“I’ll explain outside.I have a theory.”
“Of course, you do.” He took a ragged breath. “Ok, let’s go. At least he’s awake and alive, right? That’s what’s most important.”
We headed for the exit, passing the nurse behind the desk
“I’m so happy for you that your brother woke up.” Her kind gray eyes were warm and sympathetic. “Would it be possible to drop your brother’s personal effects back around later today or tomorrow? I’m sure once he gets his bearings, he’ll be thrilled to get his stuff.”
“We’ll bring him some clothes, his keys, and his phone and charger. We’re going for lunch, but we’ll drop it by this afternoon,” said Christopher.
We would also need to return his computer. I’d already copied all the relevant files.
The nurse had been in Brandon’s room and knew he hadn’t remembered his brother. As a regular visitor, Christopher was popular and sympathetic.
