A scene forms behind my eyelids. I’m standing at the sinks in the girls’ bathroom. Savannah’s on my left. I watch her gather her thick red curls into a bun as the warm water rinses the pink soap off my hands. Rory busts out of the stall, demanding we ditch lunch period so she can drive us to Taco Bell with her brand-new driver’s license. Thatcouldn’thave been two years ago. It was yesterday. Wasn’t it?
There’s a knock on the door that makes me jump. My eyes jolt open and suddenly I’m back in the hospital bathroom by myself. “Stevie, honey? It’s me,” my mom’s voice says from the other side of the heavy wooden door. “Can we come in?”
“No,” I reply, my voice shaking. I hold my breath and reach my hand up to search for the tangible evidence that this is all real. I slide my hand from the front of my hairline back until my fingers run into something short and prickly. I gently graze over a line of stitches, about an inch and a half long, the area surrounding it shaved down to my skin. Bile rises in the back of my throat.
“Dad and I are coming in,” my mom says firmly as I suck in a deep breath, my brain aching for fresh oxygen. I close my eyes as I hear the door open.
Memories don’t just disappear. Two years can’t just be gone.
Maybe if I just take a second, if I can just really concentrate, I’m sure I’ll… I’ll remember everything. I’ll wake up from this nightmare and be able to fill in this giant gaping hole in—
“Don’t touch me!” I smack my dad’s hand away from my shoulder.
“I’m just trying to help.” He rocks back on his heels. “Don’t getmadat me.”
“I’M NOT MAD AT YOU!”I yell, looking up just long enough to see my six-foot, two-hundred-pound dad shrink back into nothing. The guy who has always just wanted to protect me. I don’t think I’ve ever yelled at him in my life, at least not the life I can remember, and immediately I regret it. I press my hands against my forehead and force two breaths in and out of my lungs before I even attempt to speak again. “I’mscared,” I croak out almost silently, looking between the two of them, my vision blurry. “I’m scared.”
I pull my knees farther into my chest, trying to hold myself together, but instead I just crumble apart, tears falling uncontrollably as the pressure releases.
“I’m… I’m fifteen, but you’re telling me I just turned eighteen.” I keep my eyes trained on the floor. “I don’t understand how all that time is just… gone. I didn’t live it. I don’t…” I wipe my hands down my face, but the tears don’t let up at all. My mom locks eyes with me as she gets down onto the floor between my dad and me.
“Baby,” she whispers, placing her hands firmly around my forearms, not caring at all that they’re covered in snot.
“I don’t know who I’m supposed to be.” Senior year andhigh school graduation. Prom. Varsity soccer and college applications. All the things Savannah and Rory and I have looked forward to forever. I’ve just missed them? “I don’t remember growing up, but you’re telling me that I did. You expect me to justbean adult now, but…”
Without hesitation, my mom crawls into the tiny space next to me, catching me in her lap and brushing her thumb down my cheek in a rhythmic motion like she’s done all my life when I’m upset. We sit like that for a long time, until I can breathe again, until the tears run dry.
“Hey, we don’t expect anything, okay?” she finally replies. “I don’t know what’s going to happen, but your dad and I, we know you better than anyone. And we are here to help you figure this out.” She leans down and buries her face in my cheek, her dark-brown hair creating a safe barrier between me and the rest of the world. “We’re here.”
I reach out and take my dad’s hand, feeling his calluses rough but familiar against my skin. I remind myself that my mom is right. They know me better than anyone and they’re here.
Finally, it feels like maybe… possibly… the world might eventually make sense again.
Even if just for this moment.
CHAPTER 7
LATER THAT AFTERNOON, DR. REICHERpeeks her head into my room while I dig the last bite out of an orange Jell-O cup that I saved from breakfast.
“Hi, Stevie. How are you doing now?” she asks, stepping into the room and nodding hello to my mom and dad.
“Okay, I guess.” I shrug, dropping my empty plastic cup onto the mobile table beside me.
“Any change to your memory?” she asks, and I shake my head. “Okay, well, don’t give up hope. Like I said, it could just take some time. These things manifest differently in each individual, but it never hurts to ask questions or talk about things. You never know what might trigger a memory.” She flicks her head to my parents.
“Okay. I’ll try,” I reply, perking up a bit at that. I guess in the commotion of earlier, I got so stuck on her saying it could be permanent that I forgot she said this could all be temporary, too.Everythingcould come back to me. It’s hard to imagine, because it doesn’t actuallyfeellike any memories are missing, but if I can do anything to make them come back, I’ll do it.
“I heard you tried to make a run for it earlier,” she says.
“Uh, yeah,” I reply, looking away, embarrassed, until she pulls a gray walker into the room from the hallway.
“Let’s give this a shot. You might get a little farther,” she says, winking from behind her glasses.
“Oh, I don’t think I need that,” I say, automatically associating it with my ancient great-grandma down in Florida.
“It’s just temporary. Two weeks is a long time to have not used any of your muscles. Everything is going to feel weak… as you found out earlier. I’d like your parents to take you to the cafeteria to get lunch. The sooner you can get back to using those muscles, the better, plus I’m sure you wouldn’t mind getting out of this room.”
“Getting out of here sounds really nice, actually,” I reply, even though all I can think about is how much better it would be to just be able to go home.
