Memory's Edge: Part One (6 page)

Chapter Ten

Give In

John didn’t
remember falling asleep. His eyes stayed peacefully shut as he wondered how he
could still be tired. He had been asleep for days already. John felt like he
should have had enough energy to run from the one coast to the other. Energy
was elusive. Instead, he felt drained. Emotional storms were sucking away all
his strength. One minute he was basking in Gretchen’s warmth, and then next he
was ready to tear into a sweet old grandmother because she didn’t know how to
fix him. Guilt spiked between those two frequently, as did confusion,
frustration, self-pity, and every other unpleasant emotion a human was capable
of feeling.

The worst
was loneliness. John opened his eyes, looking for Gretchen, only to find
himself alone. Gretchen was gone.

His eyes
rolled all the way open to find her chair empty. He lost all control over his
reaction. Tightness in his chest made it hard to breathe and the tremor that
ran through his uninjured hand wouldn’t go away. He searched the room for her,
listening to see if she was outside the door, but heard and saw only emptiness.
Panic ran through him. His mind kept telling him how ridiculous he was being,
but what did his mind know? It was broken.

He didn’t
care that he barely knew this woman. She was all he had. The threat of losing that
one small piece of his life gave him an anxiety attack. He was on the verge of
hyperventilating when Gretchen slipped into the room. She stopped dead as soon
as she saw him. Concern burned in her eyes as she rushed forward.

“John, are
you okay? Do you need me to get a nurse?” she asked.

Unable to
answer her, John grabbed her hand and held it to his chest. Closing his eyes in
shame, he concentrated on her touch. Her weight settling on the side of the bed
calmed him even more, but it was her fingers caressing his cheek and her
whispered words of comfort that finally reached deep enough to steady him.

John felt
like a child for his reaction, but he didn’t care.

It hurt to
move his injured hand. It hurt to press it against Gretchen’s shoulders and
pull her to him. But the pain faded as she laid her cheek against his. The cold
of tears pressing between their skin surprised John, and he thought Gretchen
was crying for him until her free hand reached up to brush away the tears on
his bare cheek.

He held her
even tighter then.

As the
minutes slipped by, Gretchen stayed in his arms, letting him borrow from her
strength. She didn’t tell him everything would be okay, or that he didn’t need
to worry—she seemed too pragmatic for that—but she was there when he needed her,
and that made him believe in all of those things she didn’t say.

Live a
normal life. Dr. Sanchez talked about it. That honestly seemed out of the
question, but just living? John might be able to do that. As long as he had
Gretchen to keep him from falling apart. He could do it with her help.

“Thank
you,” John said as he finally relinquished his grip on her.

Smiling
softly, she pressed her hand against his cheek. “Whatever you need,” she said.
“I’m not going anywhere, John.”

He didn’t
know if he would really ever understand why she was doing this for him, but
John would never forget it. Taking her hand, he pulled it away from his cheek
and brought it up to his lips. The kiss barely touched her fingers, but
something about the act felt right to John, like he had done it before. The
faint blush in Gretchen’s cheeks drove away that passing thought.

He wanted
to kiss her again and see her silky skin flare up, but he wasn't sure what had
caused the blush. Did he embarrass her, or was it something else? John told
himself he hadn’t meant the kiss to mean anything more than his thanks, but if
that had been true, why couldn’t let go of her hand? Why hadn’t he looked away
from her stormy grey eyes?

Rebelling
against thoughts like that, John looked away and relaxed his hold on Gretchen’s
hand, letting her pull it free from his grasp. She didn’t take it far. Dropping
her hand down to his shoulder, she left it there as she reached into the book
bag John hadn’t noticed she’d brought with her.

“I'm sorry
I wasn’t able to stay last night,” she said.

Did she
know he’d been freaking out about her not being there?

“Lynn
kicked me out to get some rest and I needed to get a few things ready.”
Gretchen shook her head. “Next time, I’ll be sure to tell you I’m going before
I take off.”

John
groaned silently. She did know. Did she think him pathetic? He was already so
lacking, he hated to make her think even less of him. Watching as she took a
notebook out of her bag, John saw no criticism in her expression. She knew, but
it didn’t make her think less of him. He had no hope of ever repaying Gretchen.

“So, I know
Dr. Sanchez said there’s no way to treat amnesia, but that doesn’t mean we
shouldn’t at least try,” Gretchen said. Handing him a notebook and pen, she
watched him excitedly. John didn’t understand.

“What am I
supposed to do with this?” he asked.

“Writing
therapy.”

“What?”

“You just
write in it. Write whatever you want. Write about how you feel about things,
anything you might remember, or new things you figure out, or what you want to
do when you get out of here,” Gretchen said. “It’s something one of my
professors had us do in college. I really enjoyed it, and I think it might help
you.”

John
thought it was an interesting idea.

“Thank you,
Gretchen.”

She just
shrugged as silence fell between them. Still sitting on the edge of the bed,
she held her hands in her lap. Her middle finger kept rubbing the fingers of
her other hand. It was the hand John had kissed. Was that why it held her
attention?
he
wondered. Was she remembering his touch,
or trying to rub it off? Maybe she was nervous.

Why am I
still obsessing about it?
Shaking his head, John forced those thoughts away
again. Looking more serious than he had ever seen her before, John wondered what
she was thinking about. She said she wasn’t going anywhere, but something was
bothering her.

“Lynn let
me know the hospital will be releasing you tomorrow afternoon,” Gretchen said.
“Dr. Sanchez had some good ideas about trying to find out who you are and where
you came from, but there’s still the issue of what you’re going to do when you
leave here.”

That
was what was bothering her. John had been avoiding thinking about that very
topic. He didn’t want to think about it at all, but he knew there was no
escaping it.

“Have you
thought very much about what you want to do?” Gretchen asked. Her hands weren't
just idly rubbing now, they were pressing tightly against each other.

“Not
really,” John said. “I’ve been trying not to think about it at all, actually.”

Nodding,
Gretchen stayed thoughtful. She obviously had something to say. John wasn't
sure what it was, but he hoped for a solution he could live with. Actually,
even a solution he couldn’t live with was better than what he had. Nothing.

“John,” Gretchen
hesitated, “this may be crazy for me to even offer, but I feel like I have to
say it anyway. Please don’t think I'm nuts when I tell you what I’m thinking.”

What could
she possibly plan to suggest? He doubted it was anything terrible, but she
acted as though she were planning to drop him off at a serial killer’s house
because he was offering free room and board. “Gretchen, whatever it is, I won’t
think it’s crazy. I could use some suggestions at this point. Go ahead and tell
me.”

“Okay, um,
well, I don’t have any roommates, but I do have an extra bedroom,” she said.
Her face was absolutely scarlet by this point. “I know you don’t really know
me, but I thought that might be okay since you don’t really know anybody. With
your injuries, you probably won’t be able to find a job for a while, so you
won’t be able to pay for your own place. And I’m not asking you for any money.
You’d be free to stay for as long or as little as you want, and I wouldn’t
expect anything from you at all. I just want to make sure you’re going to be
all right. I feel responsible for you. I can’t leave you to fend for yourself.”

John’s
mouth fell open halfway through her spiel. He couldn’t make himself close it.
The way everything spilled out of her in a mass of embarrassed rambling was a
surprise in itself, but the offer was incredible.

“Are you
serious?” John asked.

Her eyes
widened for a second, and then her trembling voice said, “Yes.”

“Wow,” he
said, “that wasn’t what I was expecting.”

“What did
you think I was going to say?” Gretchen asked, confusion and curiosity in her
eyes.

John choked
on his own words. He was not about to tell her his original idea. “I don’t
know, but I wasn't expecting you to offer to let me live at your house. Doesn’t
that scare you?”

Gretchen
frowned. “Does it scare you?”

“Living
with you? No,” he said, “not at all.”

“Then why
would it scare me?” she asked. Her indignant tone mirrored her expression.

“Because I
could be anybody. I could be a criminal or a drunk or an abusive maniac, for
all we know. You might be putting yourself at risk, Gretchen.” Didn’t that
terrify her?

Folding her
arms across her chest, her jaw set firmly in an annoyed grimace, Gretchen
launched into her answer. “For your information, I know you’re not a criminal,
unless you’re an extremely good one, because the police ran your fingerprints
the second day you were here and they came back with nothing. As far as being a
drunk, we’ll both just stay away from alcohol for a while, to be safe. And if
you turn out to be abusive, the first sign of it I’ll just scream for my
six-foot-four, oilfield worker neighbor and best friend, Carl, who has a huge
crush on me, for help. I’m positive he’ll be there right away.” She took a
breath and stared John down. “So aside from you turning out to be an alien or a
vampire, I think we’re pretty well covered.”

How did she
fit so many words into a single breath? John wondered. And she was dead serious
about her offer. He honestly didn’t know what to say. Gretchen had already done
so much for him. It felt too risky to accept. Neither of them knew who he was,
what he was capable of. John was afraid to say yes, but he desperately wanted
to.

The idea of
being near her all the time, he needed and wanted that. It was more than the
fact that she was the only person he knew. When she wasn't glaring at him, her
soft smiles and gentle, caring nature drew him to her. Every time he touched
her he felt himself pulled in her direction even more. She was beautiful and
amazing, and she made John want to give in.

So he did.

What choice
did he really have?

“Okay…but
only if you’re sure.”

She tried
to keep her stern expression, but it slipped into a nervous smile she tried to
bolster with enthusiasm. “I wouldn’t have offered if I wasn’t sure,” she said.

She did look
sure. John wanted to be sure, but the inkling of doubt that her offer would
only lead to hurt stuck fast to the back of his mind.

Chapter Eleven

Writing Therapy

The rest of
the afternoon passed amid soft food for lunch, memory exercises Dr. Sanchez
recommended, and visits from various hospital staff. Gretchen bore all of it
with John, laughing at his responses to the flashcards he was supposed to
practice with and taking notes when the woman from Patient Services came up to
offer advice. When Gretchen went down to get dinner from the cafeteria, she
even left John with instructions to spend the time writing in the notebook.

John didn’t
think he had anything to write in it, but he pulled it out to please her and
stared at the blank page as she walked away. The empty lines reminded him too
much of his empty past. If Gretchen wanted him to try, John would do it.
Holding the pen poised above the paper, he focused on her instructions. “Write
about whatever you want.” It sounded simple, but it wasn't. He stared at the
page for several minutes before finally putting something down.

I had
mashed potatoes for lunch today. They were pretty good. I had Jell-O too. It
was lime flavored. I now know that I do NOT like lime flavored Jell-O.

Well, that
was something. Eating different things at least helped him figure out what
foods he did and didn’t like. Those were two things he knew about himself now.
Maybe Gretchen’s writing therapy idea was worth doing.

Gretchen
offered to let me stay at her house.

John stared
at that sentence. Filling his entire notebook with his thoughts on just that
one sentence would have been easy. He found he couldn’t force the swarm of
conflicting emotions out of his mind and onto the paper no matter how hard he
tried. There was too much, and most of it he was afraid to admit, even though
it would only be to a blank piece of paper.

Gretchen’s
happy footsteps saved him. Slapping the notebook closed, John dropped it onto
the side table and watched her sweep into the room carrying two bags of food.

“Did you
try the notebook?” she asked. John nodded. “Good. I think you’ll like it the
more you do it. Do you mind if I ask you what you wrote about?”

Gretchen
unloaded the bags, letting the aromas spill out. “I wrote about the Jell-O I
had with my lunch.” Would she think that was juvenile? John watched her
expression.

“What did
you say about the Jell-O?” she asked, no hint of amusement at all.

“That I
didn’t like it,” John said. “I did like the potatoes, though.”

Now
Gretchen smiled, but not to tease. “See, you’re making progress already. I’ll
be sure not to buy any lime Jell-O.” She set a Styrofoam bowl on the tray in
front of him and removed the lid. “Here’s something new for you to try. It’s
bacon and potato soup.”

“It smells
great,” he said. It tasted even better. The variety of textures and tastes were
surprising. The fruits and muffins had been very good, but somewhat ordinary
tasting. The plain potatoes at lunch were bland and he had already covered the
Jell-O being disgusting. John downed the soup hungrily and sopped up the last
of it with a roll.

Gretchen
cleared the dinner mess away and sat down to face him. “So, we’ll have tomorrow
evening to get you settled in at my place when I get off work, but
unfortunately I have to go to work the next day. Are you going to be okay by
yourself? I could try to get a substitute Tuesday if you need me to stay home,
or maybe have my friend Desi come over during her free periods to check on you
while I’m gone. Lynn and Maria are both working, or they would come by.”

John knew
she was thinking about his earlier panic attack over being alone. He wasn't
sure it wouldn’t happen again, but he also refused to let her put her life on hold
for him.

“I’ll be
fine, Gretchen. Please don’t worry about me. I’ve already imposed on you
enough,” John said.

She laughed
at that. “Actually, sitting at the hospital all week made me focus on the
stacks of papers I needed to grade instead of watching TV or reading.”

“What do
you do for a living?” John asked.

“I teach
science to a bunch of high schoolers who seem bound and determined to drive me
crazy.” The smile seemed to go against her words. “I’m just kidding, they
aren’t that bad. Most of them are pretty good kids. I just wish they actually
cared about what I’m teaching them.”

“I’m sure
some of them do,” he said.

Gretchen
shrugged. “There probably are some, but it does get disappointing when you try
to share something you love with someone and they just aren’t interested. I
love studying science, physics especially, but my students just groan when I
try to get them interested in how the world around them works.”

“I wonder what
I used to do,” John said. “Did I love doing it like you love teaching science?”

“If you
were any good at whatever it was, you probably did love it,” she said. “I don’t
think you can really be successful at something unless you put your whole heart
into it.”

“I wish I
knew that passion. When I think about what my life must have been like, I can’t
help of think of everything I’ve lost. It feels…incomplete,” John said.

Looking
thoughtful, Gretchen folded her legs beneath her and sat cross-legged on the
chair. “Most of that is still a part of you, John. The people and places might
be different now, but you can find everything else right here. You’ll find
passion for something again, and things that interest you and make you happy.
And things that don’t make you happy, like the Jell-O,” she said with a smile.
“But you’ll find all of that again, by opening yourself up to the world, or by
remembering what you had in the first place.”

“Do you
think I’ll remember?” John asked. He wanted the empty feeling inside him to
disappear, as he hoped it would if he ever remembered his old life, but he also
feared what that might bring. Would it take him away from this new life, from
Gretchen?

Lost in his
own thoughts, he hadn’t even realized Gretchen had failed to answer his
question. Why didn’t she answer?

“Gretchen?”

She looked
up, broken out of her own thoughts. “Will you remember? You probably will
eventually…”

The way she
trailed off made John worry. “Gretchen, do you really think that?”

Hesitating
again, she didn’t look at him. “It’s not really about what I think. It’s about
what the doctors think.”

“And?” John
asked.

“And Dr.
Sanchez didn’t seem very optimistic. She said your brain was healing, but there
was a lot of damage done to your memory centers. She said there’s always a
chance, but she didn’t sound very hopeful,” she said. Looking up at John, she
tried to lighten her expression, but didn’t do a very good job of it. “You’d
fallen asleep by then and she said she didn’t see any point in stepping on your
hopes, but I think you’re better off knowing the truth.”

John’s
heart and mind attempted to wrap themselves around that statement. A crushing
sense of aloneness pushed its way into him, but a strange tide of pleasure held
it back. All he could think about when he wasn't focused on Gretchen was how
much he wanted to have the gaps in his mind filled in. But where did that small
ray of happiness come from? Why would staying in the fog be a good thing?

Feeling
Gretchen beside him, even without looking at her, John suspected he knew.

“Thanks for
telling me, Gretchen. I would rather know what my chances are,” John said.

Gretchen
seemed to appreciate the sentiment. Her uncertainty faded and warmed into a
smile. “Do you want to take your mind off all this?” she asked.

“I would
love to take my mind off the doctors and therapists and tests,” he said. “What
did you have in mind?”

Holding up
a case, she said, “How about a movie?”

“Sure,” At
least he knew he hadn’t seen it before. Not that watching the story play out
was really the point. Escaping the hospital for a few hours was what they both
wanted. That should have been the main point, but when Gretchen moved her chair
closer to the bed and let her head rest on the mattress the point became
something else entirely.

The ends of
her hair fell over John’s fingertips, tickling his overly sensitive skin. His
arm was bent. He knew if he extended his hand he would be able to touch her.
The previews on the DVD ended and the movie began by panning out over a large
city. John’s hand remained frozen under the edges of her hair. Did she realize
how close she had laid her head to his hand? Long sections of the movie went
by, but he had no idea what it was about. Stretching his hand out, John gently
lowered it to the side of Gretchen’s face, and he could have sworn he heard her
sigh happily as he did.