He shook his head. “It’s a mild sedative, just to calm her reflexes not put her to sleep.”
“So, she’s awake?” I was still talking as I walked toward her door.
He caught up with me just as I reached the threshold. “I wouldn’t, Zayne.”
I turned to look at him. “Let’s assume she has memory loss, how would you introduce yourself? She just woke, tests and specific assessments need to be done to ascertain her level of understanding. Give her some time, a day or two. I promise the minute I’m sure it’s safe, I’ll call you. You’re her only point of contact until we know better. If anything, I’m sure she’ll be excited to meet the man that saved her life and has been taking care of all her hospital bills.”
“Fine,” I muttered, irritation pulsing in my veins. She was awake, I deserved to meet her, find out what happened. Offer some reassurance. I walked away. Whether I liked it or not, there were only so many situations within my control, others would just have to wait. For now.
Ashrika
THREE AND HALF YEARSAgo...
“There’s this secret place I go to where everything stands still. Time, life, death. A place where memories don’t matter and expectation is just a word. When I’m there, all that matters is that I exist. Me. Alone in a place, I created. I know. I understand. No rules, no judgments, no questions. There’s no past, no future, just me and the present I create each day. There’s no reason to doubt what I forgot or what will follow.”
“Does it make you happy?”
I turned away from the window I’d been gazing out of and glanced at the fifty-something man in the blue shirt, navy pants, and red tie. A month ago, he never existed—technically I never existed. Today, I had a name—a name I didn’t immediately react to because I either didn’t know it was me, they called or I didn’t know who they were if I happen to turn in their direction. “I wouldn’t say happy, doctor. Just a sense of peace.”
My psychologist smiled at me. I’d been seeing him every second day for the last month. “Does it remind you of anything?”
“Like what?” I took a seat in the leather chair opposite him. We were in the studio apartment of the rehab wing. While it wasn’t spacious, it was my haven, my measure of comfort and help lay just beyond a pine door, the only entrance, if my anxieties took a turn for the worse.
“Sometimes the images we create in our heads are an actuality of a real place. I’m just asking if it triggered anything.”
“Well, if it did then it’s certainly a beautiful reality I’m missing out on, don’t you think.” I could hear the sarcasm in my voice but by now Dr. Landers had learned to ignore it. He understood losing one’s memory was not an easy task to mediate. Thankfully, as he’d claimed a couple of times, I was far less antagonistic than some of his other patients.
“Are you ready to go out then, meet the world?” Just the thought of stepping out those doors caused immediate nausea to take up residence in my belly. Slowly I shook my head. “It’s been close to a month since you woke from that coma, my dear. And while I’m glad you’re eating well and exercising, I think you need to face the reality that an entire world exists outside these doors. The sooner you face it, the better.” A vigorous shake of my head followed by me clutching the seat of the chair in a death grip. My expression must’ve relayed my unease because his hand shot up and his lips widened in a warm smile. “Okay, we’ll give it another week then?” I nodded. “What about meeting him?”
“Who?” I knew to whom he referred but ignorance had served me well over the last week or so. One nurse playfully referred to me as a small child discovering the world for the first time. Yet, her kindness every time she looked at me, showed she felt sorry for me. Even though I had no recollection of who I was, I hated people feeling sorry for me. Maybe I was a badass girl before. That idealism seemed to resonate perfectly with my reluctance to either follow instructions or dictate my desires since waking, with a forcefulness the hospital staff hadn’t anticipated. They were accommodating regardless and often ended their shifts with gentle well-wishes that the next day would bring back my memories.
“The man who saved you, who’s been paying your hospital bills and who’s visited every day you’ve been in that coma. I understand your first meeting was hysterical, but don’t you think by now you should be better able to handle at least one of his visits? He deserves a kind smile or two, even if you don’t want to speak to him.”
I stared at the doctor, remembering that first moment I woke. My panic-stricken response to the hospital staff around me when I couldn’t remember a simple thing like my name. The anxiety persisted for who knows how long and I eventually drifted off to sleep. Then he appeared and having just woken from a dream—a nightmare actually— of being pulled into a black hole by unknown hands. I gave no thought to who he was or that his features hadn’t registered in my distraught brain and I’d blatantly screamed for him to stay away. My terror got significantly worse and had the doctor asking him to stay away. He’d done that and according to the doctor would wait for me to invite him back. So I had a savior, in more than one way, and I had no idea what he looked like.
“Next week?” I asked with a hopeful smile.
