“But imagine how many women would want to wake up looking like her. She has the face of an angel. Once she’s healed she’ll see it,” Jason says, as though I should feel lucky to have woken up in a pretty package.
Dr. Patel rattles off data about amnesia sufferers and their reactions to seeing themselves, but I barely hear him. I recall Dottie’s comment about Audrey looking like “the sweetest little doe-eyed thing” and I see now what she means. Large brown eyes—huge really—with long lashes. A bit Bambi-like. Her essence behind these eyes would seem sweet and innocent. In contrast, I’m jaded from spending days in a hospital bed, stripped of my identity. I stare back with hardened eyes and fierce determination. With my current attitude at the helm, she doesn’t seem so doe-like anymore. Even though Dr. Patel has explained the physical brain trauma thing to me over and over again, I can’t help wondering if Audrey had just been too fragile a person to handle the accident. Maybe that’s why she checked out of our brain and left me here holding the scrambled pieces.
“Can you tell me what you’re feeling?” Dr. Patel asks. “Just one word, perhaps.”
“Pissed off,” I say.
Jason puts his head in his hands.
I look up at Dr. Patel with exaggerated remorse. “Oops, that was two words.”
“What are you pissed off about?” Dr. Patel asks.
“I’m pissed off at Audrey. She should come back and face her own problems.”
“It would be better to start joining your ideas of Jane and Audrey,” Dr. Patel says. “To try to see yourself as some of both.”
“But who is Audrey, really?” I toss the mirror onto the bed. “I can barely stand to look at her.”
I suspect Dr. Patel thinks I’m having some kind of a psychological breakdown. Although he played along in the beginning by calling me Jane, he now addresses me only as Audrey, and his questions veer towards what I think and feel about becoming her again. As if he believes an alter ego has emerged and is taking over her life like some stupid comic book anti-hero.
Dr. Patel pats my shoulder. “That’s enough for now. I think it’s time for your bath.”
“Great. Sponge baths. I will never, ever tire of those.”
Ignoring my sarcasm, Dr. Patel turns to Jason. “Gilbert, may I speak to you privately?”
They walk out to the hallway whispering. I’ve been growing tired of so many things, but at the top of the list is the fact that multiple conversations are conducted without my involvement. I strain to hear what I can from their discussion in the hall.
“A psychiatrist?” I hear the anger rise in Jason’s voice. “Don’t you think it’s a little early for that?”
Dr. Patel keeps his voice low. They continue in hushed tones I can’t make out.
“No,” Jason says. “I want her home where she belongs. That’s an invasion of our privacy.” More whispering. “Just give her time. I don’t think we need that yet.”
Dottie strides into the room holding the plastic container of water that’s been my “bath” for as long as I‘ve been trapped here. She collects the soap and washcloth from the cupboard next to my bed, humming to herself happily.
“Shhh!” I pull myself up by the bed rail, grunting and heaving.
She puts a hand on her hip. “What in the name of glory are you—”
“Quiet,” I whisper, leaning my torso over the edge of the bed. I can see the corner of Jason’s lab coat. I know if he gets angry enough he’ll yell again, and I’ll be able to figure out what they’re saying about me. A trickle of sweat drips down my temple, and I shake from trying to hold my own weight on arms that haven’t lifted anything heavier than a spoon in weeks.
Jason’s voice gets louder. “I don’t want her studied like some freak!”
“Aw, hell no.” Dottie stomps off to close the door. “The last time you got wind of something you weren’t supposed to know, you almost stopped breathin’. And the last thing I need is you fallin’ outta bed on my watch.”
I struggle to catch my breath. “How would you feel…if people were discussing you…behind your back? And what century is this anyway? They need permission from my husband…before they can talk to me about anything?”
“If I were you, I wouldn’t be admitting I don’t know what century it is. With that amnesia thing you got goin’ on, they’re likely to believe you.” Dottie laughs as if she just told the joke of the year.
“Hilarious,” I say.
She laughs again and gathers my hair in a ponytail so she can wash my face and neck.
“Dr. Patel thinks there’s something wrong with me,” I say.
“More wrong than not remembering who you are and having severe injuries that almost killed you?”
“Yes. He thinks I’m not getting better because I don’t want to or something.”
Dottie scrubs my neck and takes one of my arms out of the gown. “Now, honey, why would he be thinkin’ that?”
“I don’t know. I was trying to figure it out before you closed the door.”
“Well, I’m sure whatever it is, your husband and Dr. Patel are takin’ care of it.”
And that’s what I’m afraid of. I haven’t been around that long, and it already seems like they want to exorcise me from poor Audrey’s body.
“Dottie?” I say.
She wrings water from the sponge. “Mm hmm?”
“Why do you think I don’t have any friends?”
“Oh, c’mon now. You have lots of friends. Look at all these cards and things people sent you.”
I shake my head. “Those are from people who know his family, people who work here in the hospital. I’m talking about friends. Did you know that I don’t have any friends? Other than senior citizens apparently?” My voice breaks.
“Honey, don’t be sad. You have a whole full life out there just waitin’ for you. Don’t let this confinement get the best of you. What about all them doctors’ wives? They all go and take day trips together and hang out while their husbands are on rotation. Some of them volunteer here at the hospital and work on all the fancy events for the board. They’re comin’ and goin’ all the time. You’re probably good friends with some of them.”
“No, I’m not. If I had girlfriends, they would’ve come to see me by now. And besides, Jason told me I shy away from those groups.”
“Hmm.”
“Something doesn’t feel right to me about Jason. I need help figuring it out, from someone who knows us both.” I smile at her and bat my lashes.
“Oh, honey, I don’t wanna go diggin’ into anyone’s business.”
“But I heard Dr. Patel tell Jason earlier that when I go home, I’ll need round-the-clock care. I’ll need someone for a month at least.” I gaze up at her, making my eyes as doe-like as possible. “I’ll ask for it to be you. Just think…no seventh floor, no nurses calling out sick last minute.”
“Sounds tempting,” she says. “What would I have to do?”
“I need someone I trust to help me put my memories back together. To find out a few things about Jason and me. Maybe get some clues about the accident?”
“Oh, no. You heard Dr. Patel. Forcin’ memories on you isn’t gonna help you recover,” she says.
“You wouldn’t be forcing memories on me. And besides, these things will be going on with or without your help. I’m sure Leslie would take the job. Do you think she’d feel comfortable sleeping in a doctor’s house?” There’s no way I’d let Leslie anywhere near my recovery effort, but the threat of it might be enough to hook Dottie. She has to know by now that Leslie is not to be trusted within five feet of me or, more specifically, Jason.
Dottie huffs and pretends to mull it over. “OK, fine. I’ll do it.”
“Just talk to people. Ask questions. I’ll tell you everything I want to find out. In the meantime, I need to get closer to Jason to find out what’s going on with him—any way that I can.”
She scrunches up her face. “And what does that mean, missy?”
Before I ca
n answer, Jason walks in. “Oh, sorry,” he says and turns his back to give me privacy.
“It’s fine,” I say casually, unlike the last few times when I had Dottie pull a screen around me. My gown is down around my shoulders, but everything is covered. “Jason?”
He turns to face me with his eyes lowered. “Yeah?”
“Can you get Dr. Patel’s permission for me to take a real shower? I think it would make me feel much more…alive.”
“I don’t need Patel’s permission to order a shower for my wife. If you feel up to standing, we can try it. Dottie, can you help us with that?”
I smile at him lovingly. “Maybe you can help me, too?”
“Uh, yeah. Of course,” he says.
Dottie looks at me with narrow, judgmental eyes. I know exactly what she’s thinking, and she’s right. There’s very little I have to use to my advantage, but what I do have, I plan to use. Just as any woman would.
She peers in one of my gift baskets. “Might as well break into these presents. Boy, did somebody wanna pamper you! Caviar shampoo? I didn’t even know there was such a thing.”
Jason smiles. “That’s from my aunt in California. She likes to spoil Audrey.” He brings the walker over to the bed and cuts the feed to my IV catheters so I can stand up.
I slide to the side of the bed and pull myself up to stand. She helps me balance as I place the walker a few inches in front of me and hobble to it, using my heel as a stand. The cumbersome leg cast goes all the way to my thigh and is difficult to maneuver.
“See how good she’s gettin’ at this?” Dottie says, and then hurries ahead to turn on the shower.
“I was hoping you could ask Dr. Patel this afternoon about arranging my home care,” I say to Jason, trying to catch my breath between steps.
Jason raises an eyebrow skeptically. “You sure you’re ready?”
“I think so. I’d like to get it settled today and leave in a day or two. It’ll be good for Daisy, don’t you think?”
“Absolutely. I had no idea you wanted to come home so soon.”
I stop to look at him and do my best to keep eye contact, making a conscious effort to smile. “Won’t it be good for us, too?”
He hesitates. “Yeah, of course.”
When I reach the bathroom, Dottie takes the walker and I lean on her to support my weight. “Do you mind if he helps me in?” I ask.
Dottie rolls her eyes. “Of course not, Mrs. Gilbert.”
Jason takes her place under my arm and holds me up while she fits a protective bag over my cast. I tighten my grip around his waist. When she’s gone, I take a few shaky steps towards the shower, holding on to the handicap bars for support.
“Don’t leave me in here, OK?” I say. With my back to him, I nudge the gown with my chin and let it slide it down to my waist. “Thanks for helping with this. I feel a little weird having Dottie do it.” Losing my nerve to completely strip in front of him, I close the curtain behind me and hobble into the shower, pulling my gown off and throwing it over the curtain rod.
The hot water washes over me and soothes every muscle in its wake. I forget all about Jason or going home or Dr. Patel thinking I’m an alternate personality and become so relaxed I need to hold the walls to keep myself up. This is the most intoxicating experience so far in my short life as Jane, and I realize that one of the few perks of losing my memory will be having a lifetime of “firsts” to look forward to. I hold my face under the stream and laugh as it tickles my skin. It takes a while, but I’m able to turn myself by grasping the bars on the side and propping my casted heel against the wall. As soon as I’m steady, I ease back in and gather my hair up to let the water massage the back of my neck and melt away the knots left behind by the flimsy hospital pillows.
“Oh my God,” I whisper in pure exhilaration. I reach for a shampoo bottle and it slips through my drowsy fingers and drops to the floor.
“Audrey, what was that? Are you OK?”
Before I can respond Jason throws the curtain aside, but I’m too relaxed to care.
“Jason, you’ve got to feel this.” I grab a fistful of his shirt and pull him into the shower, too carefree to worry about being naked in front of someone who has already seen my body more than I have.
“Audrey, what the hell?” he says as the water soaks his scrubs.
“Is this not the best thing you’ve ever felt in your whole life? Why didn’t anyone tell me this was in here?”
I tilt his chin down to get his attention, but he keeps his eyes respectfully fixed on the wall above my head. Water streams off his nose onto mine, which for some reason strikes me as hysterically funny, and I begin to laugh. He stands in silence, hair matted to his forehead, and his lack of amusement only makes me laugh harder.
“I’m sorry,” I say, trying to stifle my giggles. “It just feels really, really good. I don’t remember having done this before.” I clutch the sides of his waist to keep my balance.
Jason’s face softens. “I hadn't thought about it like that.”
I notice flecks of gold and green in his grey eyes that I haven’t seen before. Droplets of water hang off his thick eyelashes before trailing down his face and falling off the sharp edge of his jaw. I trace the shape of his lips, the small scar on his chin, and I watch his chest as it rises and falls.
I raise my eyes to meet his and see that he’s watching me. There’s pain in his face, and it knocks me off course. I no longer know what I’m doing or why; I can only stare up at him, paralyzed by uncertainty. What was I thinking dragging a man I barely know into a shower? What was I thinking trying to exploit what he feels for his wife? He breaks our stare first and pulls me to him, nearly crushing me in his embrace, cradling my naked body against his soaking wet scrubs and burying his face into my shoulder. For a second I think he’s laughing, until a deep moan rises from his chest.
“Oh God, I don’t know what to do,” he whispers between sobs. “Forgive me.”
“It’s OK.” I pat his back, unsure of what to do. I don't know how, but I manage to hold us both up, trying my best to soothe his grief, which builds and builds until he is limp and shaking.
He cries into my hair. “I'll give her up if it will make us happy again.”
“Everything’s going to be fine,” I say, only because it’s all I can think to do.
We stay under the water for a long time, holding on to one another as I wait for him to work out whatever it is he’s dealing with. The sound of Dottie coming into the bathroom brings Jason back to his senses, and he lets go of me with the most heartbreaking expression torturing his face. He looks, really looks at me. Probably for the first time since I woke up. His eyes grow cold and indifferent, telling me he finally sees me as a stranger. With that, my last shred of confidence runs down the drain, and I instinctively shield myself with my arms.
“I'll bring you home, Jane. Tomorrow.”
Before I can respond, Dottie clears her throat outside the curtain. “You alright in there, Mrs. Gilbert?”
Jason backs out of the shower. “She needed help standing up. We need to get her ready for discharge, Dottie. I assume you'll be coming with us.”
“What about Dr. Patel? Will he allow it?” I ask.
“Let's see him stop me,” he says. With that he walks away, leaving me reeling in confusion.
I pull the curtain aside and use it to cover up. “I don't know what just happened,” I say to Dottie.
She puts her hand on her hip. “What happened is you are one quick worker, honey. Sounds like you're gettin’ outta here.”
~10~
I’ve felt Jason watching me the entire ride home, waiting to see if I recognize anything. Unable to look at him, I focus on the scenery, still full of regret for having dragged him into the shower. I’m beginning to believe that my brain damage causes psychotically carefree behavior one moment and complete self-consciousness the next.
I adjust my casted leg on the back seat in a futile attempt to get comfortable and lean my head
against the partially opened window to let the breeze cool my face. Though Jason’s offered to turn the AC on several times, I prefer the open air. I’ve grown so tired of the synthetic hospital, the paging intercoms and beeping machines. At least now I’m free of that stagnant environment, though I have no idea what I’m headed towards.
For now, all I want is to experience sounds and sights and feelings away from the white walls and stiff bed where people knew me only as the woman who doesn’t remember anything. Out in this world I can be anyone. I can go to a store and talk to a clerk and carry on a complete conversation about the weather without anyone knowing I have brain damage. Once I can actually walk, that is.
Jason breaks the silence by telling me about the house. It belonged to his great-grandparents and was passed down twice before it became Jason’s after his grandparents passed away. His parents renovated part of it, though they never intended to live there, and he and Audrey moved in and took over the project soon after Daisy was born. Apparently they only have a few more rooms to go before it’s finished. Thankfully, Dottie is already there waiting for me, having set up the solarium as my temporary living quarters. Jason asks if I’d rather he stay down there with me or up on the third floor in the master bedroom, but I don’t respond.
I watch the houses go by and notice that they get bigger and farther apart the longer we drive. Finally, the car begins to slow, and we turn onto a cobblestone drive and follow it around a wooded patch of yard and up towards a sprawling brick house presiding over beautifully manicured gardens. Two large wings bookend an enormous central section, and several chimneys poke out of the roof. Black iron window boxes explode with brightly colored blooms and cascades of ivy and vinca. On a grassy island in the center of the driveway, Otis runs in circles, barking and whimpering.
Jason opens the back door and leans in to help me out of the car. “You ready?”
“Wow.” I crane my neck to look at the top of the house, trying to wrap my mind around the idea that I live here. “What’s in the dormers?”
When I Was Jane Page 7