Anywhere But Here

by Remmy Duchene

  “This is your second one in a few years, right?”

  “Yeah. He was attacked, Lizzie. It’s bad.”

  “Well, if anyone can get him back in fighting shape it’s you, Mōṭhā bhā'ū. Just have a little faith.”

  “I love you, you know that, right?”

  She giggled. “You’d better or you’d have some serious explaining to do.”

  “Nerd.”

  “But the beauty of it is this—I am your nerd. Forever.”

  Chad laughed remembering the day his mother had brought home this tiny bundle wrapped in a pink blanket.

  “This is your little sister,” Lillian announced, sitting on the sofa so Chad could see the baby’s little face peeking out of the soft folds. “Isn’t she beautiful?”

  Chad scrunched up his nose. “Take her back. We don’t want any.”

  “I cannot believe I wanted Mom to take you back.”

  Eliza laughed out loud. “I grew on you, eh? I knew it! I’m just that fabulous!”

  “Right. Talk later. Love you.”

  “Love you, too, Mōṭhā bhā'ū.”

  Chapter Two

  “Code blue! Paging Dr. Holstrom. Code blue! Dr. Holstrom!”

  “No rest for the wicked it seems,” Chad muttered, looking away from the clipboard he was busy scribbling against and glanced over at the nurse. She turned to her screen. “Who?” he asked.

  “John Doe.”

  “Shit!” He dropped the clipboard to the counter, feeling that his stethoscope was still around his neck even as he took off at a run toward the section where John’s bed was located. As he went he removed a pair of gloves from his back pocket and began slipping his fingers in. At the bed, there were already nurses rushing around trying to help. On the bed, John’s body thrashed about with a couple of nurses trying to keep him on the bed.

  “Get me five hundred milligrams of Levetiracetam!” he shouted while diving once more into the chaos. He was afraid John would seize, especially with the brain scarring and the head trauma. Eventually, once the medications began taking effect, John’s body fell back to the bed. Chad set about checking him over starting with his mouth. John hadn’t bitten his tongue, but he had thrown up. Chad shifted John to his side then reached for a clean tongue depressor and used it to clear John’s mouth. Once Chad had him back on the bed, he checked John’s vitals.

  He knew that once he was satisfied, he’d have to do another scan of John’s brain. Seizures were dangerous, and it was more likely another one would happen the longer John remained in a coma.

  “Come on, buddy,” Chad whispered, looking down into the man’s face. “Wake up. It’s out of our hands right now, which means it up to you. You’ve gotta fight like hell to get back. There has to be something you want out here that’s better than in there. This cannot be the last place your body is before you die. Do you hear me? Fight!”

  The hours ticked by, ending Chad’s shift and sending him home. He barely slept, and soon it was time to go back into the breach. Those hours turned into two more days and another day off for Chad. He fell asleep beside John’s bed, holding his guitar. The last thought he remembered was wondering how he would handle it if someone was to take all he had, then leave him for dead.

  “Chad?”

  He opened his eyes and looked up. Surinder smiled at him. “You fell asleep by John’s bed again.”

  Chad sat up in the chair, set the guitar aside and dragged the back of his left hand across his cheek. “I do not want him to wake up alone.”

  “Chad, that is not your responsibility.”

  “I know that.” Chad walked over to check John’s charts then the numbers on the machines around him. His blood pressure had dropped slightly but not enough to be alarming. “But if I were in this situation I’d want him to be here so I wouldn’t be by myself when I woke up. I know what it feels like to be alone, and I never want anyone to experience that.”

  Surinder sighed. “I understand. I really, really do. But you’re running yourself ragged.”

  “He has no identification on him. We cannot call anyone. Imagine waking up from a coma and your loved ones aren’t by your side. I do not want that for John.”

  “You are making this personal.”

  “I don’t care.” Chad faced his friend. “Let me do this my way.”

  Surinder sighed. “I will get you some coffee.”

  After he left, Chad sat once more and leaned in to look into John’s face. “You have to wake up. If not for anything else but to tell me your name. I bet it’s a pretty cool name.” He reached for John’s hand but hesitated for a second. Surinder returned with a cup of what could be loosely be described as coffee. Chad thanked his friend with a smile.

  “Listen, you and I should do something,” Surinder said. “Next weekend we’re both off. What do you say?”

  Chad gave Surinder a smile. “Sure,” he agreed. “I will be okay, Suri. Do not worry so.”

  “I believe you. I have to go. Mr. Pravash is back, and this time, I am going to have to admit him.”

  “If you need my help…”

  “I know.”

  Chad sipped from the foul-tasting coffee again, hoping the taste would change, but he was wrong. With a sigh, he set it on the floor beside his chair and turned once again to contemplate holding John’s hand.

  Would that be a line he shouldn’t cross? How could it be? One of his professors in university told him that a doctor was supposed to heal everything for his or her patient, and if they could not, find someone who will. That took away Chad’s second-guessing, and he held John’s hand. “Somehow your name is important to me. I mean, after all, if a man has no name then what is he? Squeeze my hand.”

  “Dr. Holstrom?”

  Chad drew his hand away and turned to face Bindi. “Yes?”

  “I have the results for his scan,” she replied, handing it over. “I was giving it to Dr. Jotha, but he said you are the attending.”

  Chad nodded and accepted it. He said nothing else, and he didn’t hear her leave for he was caught up in reading the results. It seemed the brain activities had improved after the seizure. He wasn’t sure how, nor did he care. This was a good sign.

  Feeling a bit inspired, he set the results on the floor by the chair, sat and closed his eyes.

  ****

  The world was a noisy, blurry place. Somehow, he knew that. From beeps to whoosh to someone screaming Code Orange! It was as though the second he opened his eyes, all hell broke loose. He craved for peace and quiet, and he wanted to revert to the abyss. The feeling of emptiness, of being alone, kept him outside himself.

  Perhaps it hadn’t at all been that bad. But inside his head, the chaos around him seemed magnified as his head pulsed with pain. For a while, he remained motionless, trying to mentally will the hurt away. But the longer he remained unmoving, the ache worsened.

  Even as he opened his eyes and had to close them again to the brightness, he knew. Something didn’t feel right. There was something in his throat that he was pretty sure shouldn’t be there. Still, he moved his head as much as he could, then tried opening his eyes once more.

  This time it worked. The haze began slowly lifting, and he could make out the form of a person by his bed. Blinking, his vision cleared up, and he realized it was a man. Though he was dressed in a pair of blue jeans and a graphic t-shirt, he had a stethoscope hanging around his neck, which was supported by wide shoulders. Allowing his eyes to trail down the man’s face, he found he was happy to see he had full lips, a proud nose, and handsome features. The stubble on his face did not take away from the man’s good looks.

  He groaned, and the man on the chair lifted his head and opened his eyes to show off deep, brown eyes. “You’re awake! You had me very worried.”

  He blinked at the man.

  “I’m Dr. Holstrom,” he said. “You can call me Chad.”

  Chad. I never would have guessed.

  He tried smiling, but the tube down his throat was not helping.
Lifting a hand, he pointed to the thing sticking out his mouth, and the doctor smiled.

  “I know. It doesn’t feel natural, but trust me it was necessary. Let me take a look at you, and then once everything is good we will remove it. Deal?”

  He nodded, happy the doctor could basically read his mind.

  It was another hour of people fussing over him. Soon, the tube was out, and the room descended into silence again. He tried speaking, but his throat was raw. When he grunted, Chad hurried from the room and returned with a notepad and pen. He accepted them, bowed his head in thanks and tried writing. His hand wouldn’t cooperate. Instead, it wavered all over, dragging scraggly lines against the page. He gritted his teeth, lifted his hand from the paper and closed his eyes. When he opened his eyes again, his hand had stopped shaking. He flipped to a new page and had to focus—use serious brain power—to will his hand to do what he wanted. Holding his breath, he wrote on the paper.

  When he turned it, Chad arched a brow. “Um—could you write that in English or Marathi or Urdu—French?”

  Flipping the pad again, he scribbled quickly in English. “Sorry. Where am I?” This time his hand only shook slightly, making the letters look strangely mutated.

  “Jaipur—India.”

  “India. That does not sound right.”

  “I understand. What you wrote before was not Hindi, Urdu, Marathi, or even Hakka. That’s why I asked you to speak in English. What’s your name?”

  He laid the notepad back in his lap again. “My name—my—name is. I do not know!”

  “Do not panic. Please. It happens sometimes. You have been in a coma for a little over a week, so memory loss is one of the side effects of that.”

  His hand shook even more violently than before. No amount of concentrating helped, so he stopped, inhaled deeply and rested back on the bed. Mentally, he counted to ten and attempted once more. It seemed when he panicked his brain couldn’t seem to work on freaking out and anything else at the same time. “How do I remember my birth language and that I speak English? I remember that I am left handed. Something as simple as my name, I can’t remember anything!”

  “It’s all right. Some things are innate. We do them without having to think. Like, if when you woke up, I tossed a ball at you, you would have caught it or attempt to catch it with your left hand.”

  “Please help me!”

  “I will.” Chad sat on the side of his bed and gripped his shoulder. “I will do everything I can to help you back onto your feet. You can start by not panicking. Until we know who you are, we will call you John.”

  “John? I do not feel like a John.”

  “It is only until we figure out your real name. I think it is better than calling you Hey You until then.”

  “John. I will wear that name with pride—until I find my real one.”

  “Good. Let me get you some jelly so you can begin eating actual food again. We need to ease you into the solids.”

  John gripped Chad’s arm to get his attention then quickly scribbled on a fresh page. “Thank you. I am glad you were here when I awoke. I will try and remember quickly so I do not become a burden.”

  “The mind is an amazing thing, John.” Chad said softly. “You cannot rush it. It has been damaged. That’s why your hands shake when you try to concentrate on more than one thing at a time. So yes, it’s broken, and while it can recover, you have to give it the time necessary. First, we heal your body and then we work on your mind. And you’re not a burden. You require help, and I’ll make sure you get what you need. Until then, one thing at a time.”

  “One thing at a time—right. How badly was I hurt?”

  “John…”

  “I wish to know.”

  Chad’s large shoulders rose and fell. “Really badly. Your right arm was broken. That is why it is wrapped the way it is. Your face was swollen, you had lost a lot of blood—we did not think you would have made it.”

  “I see. How did I sustain my injuries?”

  Again, Chad was reluctant. John tilted his head.

  “We’re not sure,” Chad finally replied. “When you came in you had no wallet, no money, no cell phone—nothing. So we are going on the premise that you were robbed.”

  “And the authorities?”

  “Have yet to check on you. I would not hold my breath. I believe the only way they would is if you died.”

  John winced.

  “The sad truth about this place is this—there are millions of people here in this one city. A missing person isn’t really at the top of their list, I’m afraid. You must have family who are looking. Listen, you’re still with us, thankfully. Don’t worry. I will try and help you remember so we can figure things out.”

  “You are only responsible for my body. My mind is something different.”

  Chad smiled.

  “What did I say?”

  “Nothing. One crisis at a time, John.”

  “Thank you.”

  “No need for that. Let me get your jelly.”

  John offered Chad a smile, but he didn’t really feel it. There were so many things happening in his head. Did he have a family? If so, where were they? Surely him being gone for so long would raise some red flags? He didn’t want to think they didn’t care—someone had to care!

  He knew Chad said to not panic, that these things happen, but how could he forget something that ran through his veins like his name? Setting the notebook beside him on the bed, he placed the pen on top, then settled in again against the pillow.

  Chad wasn’t gone long, and soon, John was trying to eat but wasn’t having much luck. Each time he lifted the spoon, his hand would shake so terribly, the jelly would tumble off into the bowl. He sucked his teeth and flung the bowl and spoon across the way. It hit the curtains then slammed into the floor.

  “I know you are upset and scared. But your brain is not used to being as hurt as it is right now.” Chad’s voice was soft. “There were previous injuries to your brain, too, that will make recovery a little harder but not impossible. Give your body time to heal.”

  “I—I guess…” John stopped, his throat burning. “I was able to write when I concentrated. Why can I not hold a spoon?”

  “I don’t know.” Chad shrugged. “The brain tends to react differently in any given situation.”

  “I will starve.”

  “I would not let that happen.” Chad walked across the room and picked up the bowl. He then yanked some paper towel from a box nearby and cleaned up the dessert. “You have to be patient, John. Certain things won’t make sense for a while, and some things on or in your body won’t work as they should. But you must take your time. I know it’s hard.”

  Though he listened to what Chad said, John’s head began throbbing. He closed his eyes tightly, trying to make it stop. “And what happens when—my body is healed, but I am—still— still crazy? What will happen to me then?”

  “You’re not crazy.” Chad set the bowl and soiled paper towels in his vacated chair.

  “Then…” He swallowed. “What am I?”

  Chad didn’t speak for a breath. He rested his hands akimbo and pressed his full, delectable lips into a thin line. “You are temporarily out of service. Emphasis on the word temporarily. It means, that will not last forever. Sooner or later your brain will heal, and it will come back.”

  “You sound—sure.”

  “I am.” Chad said. “I’ll keep the faith for both of us. How’s that?”

  John smiled and nodded.

  “Awesome. Now, I have to head home and get some sleep before my boss yells at me at the number of hours I’m spending here. Will you be okay?”

  “I suppose—” John stared into Chad’s gaze, trying so hard to gather some strength from them. Though he nodded, all John wanted to do was cling to Chad and beg him not to leave. He wanted to tell Chad that his face gave so much light. And John needed light to shine in the dark corners of his head. Still, he returned Chad’s smile, hoping it was at least a little bit
as hopeful as Chad’s. “I will—be here.”

  “Good.”

  Chad reached out and smoothed some hair from John’s forehead before letting his hand fall. It was strange, but John enjoyed the softness of Chad’s caress. The only explanation was that John was terrified and Chad was showing he cared. John would accept that with an open heart.

  “I will be back as soon as I can,” Chad promised. “I’ll also send a nurse in with some more jelly. Do not whip that one across the room.”

  “I—won’t.”

  “You promise?”

  John smiled. This time he felt it spanning his face and sending a warmth to his eyes. “I promise.”

  With that, Chad was gone, and the blackness filled John’s head again. What if he was stuck with that name forever? He hoped not. John didn’t feel right. It was almost as if he was wearing someone else’s underwear. Still, he settled into the bed, and soon enough, a bright-eyed nurse entered with a bowl of jelly. She didn’t speak but instead sat on the side of the bed and fed him the cool dessert. When she finally spoke, John’s mind became even more fragile. She spoke rapidly, and all he could do was shake his head.

  “English?”

  She shook her head. Finally, when the jelly was finished, she sighed and left him alone. John used his good hand to rub his eyes.

  Who am I? And why can’t I remember?

  Chapter Three

  Adding a pinch of salt to the chili bubbling on the stove, Chad then stirred it and tasted. He covered the pot, turned the stove down low, and turned his attention to the tabletop grill he was using to make some homemade burgers. Though he was trying to keep John out of his head, it was hard. As he worked, he still tried coming up with clues as to what could have happened and who was responsible. Maybe if he could find out the answers to those two questions, they’d be closer to solving the riddle that was John Doe.

  “I was looking at some pictures of John’s injuries,” Surinder said, walking in and leaning his back against the counter. “Something caught my eyes so I went and gave him a checkup myself. I hope you don’t mind.”