When I Was Jane

by Theresa Mieczkowski

  Once that’s over, I’m helped into a chair by two assistants who submerge my hands and feet in hot bubbling baths. They give me manicures and pedicures while another woman gives me a facial. It’s pure heaven. Once I’m polished and dried, Vivienne comes down the stairs with a gentleman I’ve never seen before, but who obviously knows me.

  “Audrey, darling.” He holds out his arms and kisses both of my cheeks.

  Vivi looks at me with a wink that lets me know I shouldn’t tell him I’m not Audrey. They sit me down and discuss what to do about my hair.

  “Work your magic, Henri,” she says as she heads outside to visit Daisy. “We want to knock somebody’s socks off.”

  Henri cuts and shapes and highlights my hair. He styles it, stands back to survey his work, and styles it again. When he’s done, he snaps his fingers, and a woman comes over with more makeup containers than I ever knew existed. While they work, they talk to me about what I use on my skin and what I should be doing to cover the last of the bruises and scars left behind by the accident. They show me how to use the many brushes and liners and shadows that are piled up in front of me, and when they’re done, they call Vivienne in to get her approval.

  “Oh, look at you, my beautiful Audrey,” she says, beaming.

  Henri spins my chair around to show me a large mirror. I look like Audrey, only a better, sexier version of her. For all the makeup they used, it’s tastefully done. My hair has been cut several inches and parted on the other side, hiding the patch of shaved hair beneath long layered bangs that cross over my forehead and tuck behind my ear. Waves curl around my shoulders. Toffee colored highlights brighten my face. I like the way I look for the first time in as long as I can remember. I look up at Vivienne. “Why did you do this for me?”

  “Because when a woman feels beautiful, she acts beautiful. And it is time for you to feel beautiful,” she says.

  I understand she’s trying to give me a present, but it’s fairly obvious she’s trying to give Jason one, as well. She’ll stop at nothing until her son and I are in love.

  “Are you trying to get him to fall in love with me?” I ask. “If so, you’ll have to make over my personality, too.”

  “Jason loves you just the way you are, dearest. I wanted to do this for you. But if that happens to make you feel extra confident and sexy and he is able to see that side of you, I do not think it would hurt anyone, do you? Perhaps you both need a reprieve from this doctor-patient thing. Maybe it is time to see each other as a man and a woman.” She stands behind my chair and puts her chin on my head so I can look at her in the mirror. “I knew you were having trouble looking at yourself, and I wanted you to see how beautiful you really are,” she says.

  Her gesture is so thoughtful I don’t want to point out that this is not at all how I really am. I’d been poked and prodded and brushed and scraped and glistened for hours to look this way.

  “Shall we find you something cute to wear? There is a great big closet up there waiting for someone to enter it again,” she says. We venture upstairs and I try on several of Audrey’s outfits mostly consisting of flowing skirts, simple fitted t-shirts, and flat sandals.

  Vivienne clasps her hands under her chin and smiles. “Don’t you look lovely.”

  Everything is simple, lots of khaki and crisp white button down shirts. Plain and understated. Like a nun. “Audrey was pretty conservative with her clothing, wasn’t she?” I say as tactfully as I can.

  Vivienne grabs Dottie’s leg with a look of hopeful anticipation on her face. “Whatever do you mean, dearest?” she asks.

  “It’s just…I’m not sure that my style is the same as Audrey’s. But I don’t even know what my style is.”

  Vivienne yelps and jumps off the bed, nearly tripping over her own feet trying to run and hug me. “Je ne croyais pas que ça allait jamais arriver.”

  Dottie shakes her head. “What did that woman just say?”

  “I thought this day would never come,” Vivienne says laughing. “Oh, we are going shopping, my darling. I can take you to Paris! I have always wanted to dress you. Such a cute little figure to be hidden in such boring clothes.”

  Dottie snorts. “Paris? Dr. Patel won’t even let her go on a weekend getaway yet.”

  She’s right. I see him twice a week, and he always reminds me that I need to take it easy. He still hasn’t even signed off on me watching TV or reading books. I didn’t have the heart to tell him that I already watched a movie with Daisy and snuck a magazine or two.

  Vivienne clicks her tongue and sighs. “Oh, that is a problem. And probably no to the city as well. I can take you to the mall, perhaps, just for now, and then we can go to Paris when you are recovered. The mall is such a disgusting place.”

  “I’m sorry, Mrs. Gilbert,” Dottie says to Vivienne. “But if she goes anywhere and gets an infection in that leg, she’s gonna be in lots of trouble. We’ll all be.”

  Vivienne tilts her head and eyes me thoughtfully. “Do you trust me to pick out some lovely things for you, just for now? I will bring them home to you and that way you do not have to go anywhere.”

  “Absolutely. I’d love anything you’d choose for me,” I say.

  It occurs to me a moment too late that I’ve just given a French fashionista free reign over my wardrobe.

  A few hours later, Vivienne returns with enough packages to fill the bedroom and then some. Dresses of all lengths and shapes hang from every knob in the room, artfully displayed amongst shoes, skirts, tailored pants and blouses, jackets, scarves, accessories, and a heaping pile of lingerie. Vivienne holds up a lace bodice with matching thigh high stockings, pretending, for my sake, that she’s requesting my approval. As if I have a say.

  “You’re like her own personal Barbie Doll,” Dottie says under her breath.

  “Where am I going to wear all of this stuff?” I ask. I barely have the energy to look through all of it, let alone try it on.

  “Edmund and I want to throw a party to celebrate your recovery,” Vivienne says. “And I am sure that you and Jason will be getting away together for a few days as soon as your doctor lets you go, so you will need a few outfits for that as well. And…I thought it was time for you to drop in on your husband at the hospital and bring him lunch like you used to. Perhaps your next visit with Dr. Patel can be in his office instead of the sunroom?”

  I nod my head in agreement. I’d like to go back to the hospital. I want to stop being a shut-in and get the ball rolling on my recovery. And I’d like to meet the other doctors’ wives and figure out why Jason didn’t want Audrey to be friends with them.

  “I’ll tell Dr. Patel when I call in tonight to update him on your progress,” Dottie says. “He’s ready for you to start with the physical therapist and counselors any day now. It’ll be a lot easier to plan it all if you went there.”

  As they walk out of the room, I hear Vivienne whisper to Dottie about making sure ahead of time that Jason will have a nice long break to see us during our visit. She isn’t going to rest until she has us happily married, and I can’t help but wonder how much she knew about Jason and Audrey at all.

  ~20~

  I wake up trembling. Even though Jason has explained the origin of the bathroom dream to me, I’ve had it again. Like always, the floor turns into a deck, and the blood pools around my feet until there’s nothing left but red. But this time I leave the bathroom, running, and end up outside at night. Jason chases behind me, yelling Audrey’s name. I fall into the dirt and pick myself up to keep going. To get as far away as I can.

  I’ve learned to control myself during the nightmares. I no longer wake up panting and crying. I no longer need to use the oxygen mask. I peek over at the clock on the bar; three thirty am. I lie in the darkness listening to the whir of Dottie’s fan in the next room and try to force myself back to sleep. It’s been more than two months since my accident, but at times like this, it feels like years.

  At Vivienne’s suggestion, we’re going to the hospital today to se
e Dr. Patel and drop in on Jason. I remember when I first woke up in my room there, how long ago it seems. How strange it felt when Jason came to see me with pictures of a life I didn’t remember and then climbed into my bed. How confident he was that night, walking in and handing me flowers, telling Dr. Patel he couldn’t be kept away from me. Now he seems so unsure of what he wants from me, if he wants anything at all. I picture his face when he left two days ago, so conflicted, so pensive. I think about the green and gold flecks in his eyes and the way he’s always sweeping hair from them.

  The next thing I know, the sun is bursting through the blinds, and Daisy climbs into my bed telling me it’s time to get dressed. I pull on a figure-hugging coral wrap dress that Vivienne bought for me and a pair of light brown sandals since I can’t wear heels until I can walk without assistance. Because it seems so important to her, I let Vivienne do my hair and makeup however she wants as consolation for my uninspiring footwear.

  She hands me a pair of earrings to put on. “There. I think you’re ready.”

  I take a look in the mirror. I have to hand it to her; she knows what she’s doing. I didn’t even realize I had a figure like this, and I’ve been living in this body for over two months. If it weren’t for the ugly pair of crutches I need to drag with me everywhere I go, I’d feel pretty spectacular. I survey my reflection from head to toe, wondering what Audrey would make of this.

  “Mommy, you look pretty.” Daisy holds the side of my skirt and gazes up at me. She’s wearing a dress so we can be “twins” and her tap shoes in case any of the nurses want her to demonstrate her newest abilities.

  We pile into Vivienne’s town car and head back to the place where I was born as Jane. Much to my mother-in-law’s dismay, the first person I have to see is Dr. Patel since Jason is in surgery and can’t be paged. Vivienne decides to take Daisy to the cafeteria for lunch while I get examined.

  Dr. Patel asks how I’m feeling, and I report the same thing as always: I don’t remember anything and I’m incredibly bored having to sit around and do nothing all the time. We talk extensively about how I feel about Audrey, and I follow along with what Jason suggested to me on my first day home and tell Dr. Patel what he wants to hear in order to avoid having to spend hours with therapists. He checks my eyes and has me look into a machine that blinks wildly and then back at him.

  “The concussion is healing, but I would still like to be conservative about television and books.” He scribbles in his notepad. “So, you aren’t angry with her anymore?”

  “Who?”

  “Audrey. You once thought it was her fault that you were in this predicament.”

  The last thing I should admit is that I still think of myself as someone else. “Well…I’ve been home for a while now and I’ve bonded really well with Daisy. I think it’s going to take some time to get to know Jason, but if someone did put me in this predicament, she sent me into a very happy life, so I guess I should be grateful.”

  “But you still feel you are a separate person from Audrey, do you not?”

  “I guess,” I say with a shrug. “I’m frustrated by not having her memories, but I know there were some unfortunate events before the accident that Jason is concerned about me remembering. We decided to live life day to day for now and deal with memories as they arise.”

  I have no idea how to answer these questions anymore. I don’t know who Audrey was or if I even want to know. If Jason were helping me recover memories and I knew a thing or two about Audrey, maybe I’d be able to decide. But I can’t admit to Dr. Patel that he isn’t.

  He nods approvingly. “It is a good idea to do that. You sound like you’re coping remarkably well. But tell me…these unfortunate events that you have discussed with Dr. Gilbert, do you find yourself feeling overwhelmed about them? Do you think you have strong feelings about these events that you’d rather not remember?”

  “Are you asking if I think that somewhere in my mind I’m choosing to not remember because it’s easier than facing feelings I can’t handle?”

  He begins to speak but then stops himself.

  “That’s what you meant, right?” I ask.

  “It would be up to a professional to decide if you are experiencing a dissociative state. I am asking what your feelings are about the events that you and Jason discussed and if they produce any anxiety in you.”

  I smile at him. “You don’t have to keep saying ‘the events’ like that. I’m not going to flip out if you mention the baby we lost. That’s the benefit of not actually remembering.”

  Dr. Patel flinches and opens his notebook.

  “I’m sorry it happened to them, of course. I can have sympathy, right?”

  “Yes, of course you can have sympathy.” He reads through his notes. “I didn’t know that you and Jason lost a child. He told me there were some unfortunate matters in your history, but he never gave me specifics.”

  “That’s not possible. Jason told me he shared the specifics with you, and you both thought I shouldn’t be told certain things until I’m ready.”

  Had I dreamt that? I don’t know how much more to say. Why would Jason tell me that Dr. Patel knew everything?

  “You would have heard about it last year. I’m sure it was no secret,” I say.

  “I was on a sabbatical until April. Are you saying that Jason told you he and I decided to keep upsetting information from you until you remember it on your own?”

  My mouth goes dry. “Isn’t that what you told me when I first woke up in the hospital?”

  “Yes, when you were in critical condition. But not now that you are strong and trying to regain your life.” He closes his notebook and looks at me sternly. “Perhaps I wasn’t clear with Dr. Gilbert the last time I saw him. When I specifically said he should be reacquainting you with your history to see if, in fact, you are purposely blocking anything.”

  “Oh, you know what?” I shake my head a little, trying to look mixed-up. I hate to lie to him, but I’d rather not let on that I’m still in the dark. “Jason did say that to me the night we discussed the situation with the baby. I was talking about way back when I first woke up. He told me about the baby they lost and suggested I keep a journal to write my feelings in like Audrey did. He said if anything came up, I could discuss it with you.”

  Dr. Patel’s face perks up. “And have you written anything down?”

  “Not yet. I haven’t felt the need to. I’m just enjoying Daisy and rediscovering that I cook French food and getting to know the man I live with.”

  He nods to himself. “It sounds like you are getting on very well, Audrey. There’s a good chance that once your head heals fully, your memories will return to you very suddenly. It can be quite a shock for some people. You may experience head pain and dizziness when that happens, or just before.”

  “So the people who never get their memories back…” I say casually. “Do you think it’s because they had a psychological block that was preventing them?”

  He folds his glasses and slides them into his pocket. “I cannot say because they weren’t my patients. There could be many reasons why someone never recovers their memories.”

  I wonder if any of those reasons have to do with their own family members not wanting them to.

  I leave Patel’s office and make my way to the elevator. I’m supposed meet the physical therapist next and set up our sessions for home care. I press the down button, wondering how I’m going to find Vivienne and Daisy who are somewhere in the hospital eating lunch or tap dancing for nurses. I still don’t own a cell phone, and Audrey’s was destroyed in the crash. This was not a well thought-out plan.

  The doors open and several doctors step out of the elevator. Jason is among them, but he walks right by me and down the hall, engrossed in conversation with a colleague. I follow behind for a few feet, but there’s no way I can keep up on crutches.

  “Jason, wait.” I lean against a wall, exasperated by my limitations.

  He turns around, his expression unchangi
ng as he tries to figure out who’s calling him. Then his eyes grow wide with recognition, and astonishment blooms in his face. He looks me up and down, shaking his head and smiling. “What are you doing here? My God, you look amazing.”

  “Your mother did this.” I have to admit it feels pretty good knowing that I was the one who put that look on his face.

  He leans in and kisses my cheek. “You look incredible. God, your hair…” He takes a piece that has fallen from behind my ear and tucks it back in place. “You’re stunning.”

  “They’re in the cafeteria,” I say, staring idiotically at his perfect face.

  He smiles at me. “Who is?”

  I notice a little dimple by his mouth that I don’t remember seeing before, and have to keep myself from smiling. I can’t understand what’s wrong with me, unless the change of scenery has helped us step out of the cycle we’ve been stuck in. The elevator doors open again. As the hallway fills with people, Jason takes my arm and gently guides me to a wall, leaning against me for a moment so they can get by. When he steps back, I feel a pang of disappointment.

  “Who what?” I ask, trying to remember what we were talking about.

  “Who is in the cafeteria?”

  “Oh.” I stand up straighter and shake myself to my senses. “Your mother and Daisy.”

  “Did you see Patel today?”

  “Yes. I think I avoided the therapists again.”

  “Good,” he whispers.

  I don’t know what’s come over me, but I’m unable to take my eyes off him. He looks so handsome with his lab coat over his dress shirt and tie. I bite my lip, trying once again to stop myself from smiling like a maniac.

  The corner of his mouth twitches. “What?”

  “Nothing. Just something funny Daisy said this morning,” I say to cover myself.

  “Oh.” He sounds disappointed. “Do you want to go find them?” He texts his mother to tell her we’re on our way down then smirks, holding his phone up for me to see her response.