by David Archer
“That’s a great idea,” Dex said. “I know I’d feel a lot better about you being home alone, that way.”
I laughed. “Yeah? We’d just have to be sure to go in and erase all the video from the bedroom pretty often.”
He grinned. “I’ll handle that part,” he said. I smacked him on the shoulder and told him he was a naughty boy, which only made him laugh harder.
We had snacked on the picnic basket as we drove, and we finished off what was left in it for dinner. Critter was happy to take a few of the leftovers, and then we all curled up on the couch together to watch a movie.
The movie was called “Courageous,” and it struck me that it was actually about fatherhood. In the story, a police officer and his family are devastated by the death of their little daughter, who was killed in a car accident while riding with some friends. His son, who was older, begins to question what life is all about, and starts to rebel, which leads the officer to discover a local movement to guide men into becoming better fathers. It was an awesome movie, and it had some incredible themes, along with a couple of absolutely hilarious scenes.
Of course, watching the movie made me remember my conversation with Mom, and my thoughts about whether Dex would even want to be a father. It all sort of rolled around the back of my mind while the movie was playing, and I decided that it might be time to find out his thoughts on it.
I waited until the movie was finished, and we were getting ready for bed. We had locked up the house and gone to the bedroom, and I turned to him as I slid under the covers.
“I want to ask you an off-the-wall question,” I began, “but I don’t want you to read too much into it. Do you think you can manage that?”
“Off-the-wall? I guess I can try. Go ahead, what’s the question?”
“You hardly ever talk about your childhood. You mentioned your mom a few times, but the only thing you’ve ever said about your dad is that he was never there. I was just wondering—this is the part I don’t want you to read too much into—but did you ever think about having kids of your own?”
I’m not entirely sure what I expected. I thought he might freeze and stare at me, or he might bust out laughing, and I even considered the possibility that he would get upset. What I got was a chuckle as he went right ahead taking off his clothes and getting into bed beside me.
“Mom put a little pressure on you for grandkids?”
“No,” I said, “not really. I mean, I know they would love the idea, but she’s fully aware that we are not at that point in our relationship, so relax. Now, I really just wondered if you’d ever given it any thought.”
“Of course I have,” he said. “And someday, under the right circumstances, I think it could be great. I used to worry that I might not be a very good dad, because I didn’t have an example to learn from. I got over that, though, when I realized that I had a perfect example of the kind of father I wouldn’t want to be. I’m not just talking about my own dad, who ran out when I was little and only dropped by once in a while until I was in my early teens, but I’ve watched other men. Some of them were my buddies’ fathers, and there have been others that I’ve seen who didn’t do a very good job. I figure I know enough things to avoid to let me do at least a halfway decent job of raising a kid.”
Now, I heard everything he said. It’s not my fault that the only part that really stuck in my ear was that one little phrase.
“And what would be the right circumstances? Hypothetically, I mean.”
He got himself settled in the bed and rolled onto his side so that he was facing me. “Right circumstances? That would involve you deciding you wanted to be a mother.” He kissed me, then rolled over and turned his back to me.
I lay there for a long moment without saying anything, and then I reached out and put my hand against his back.
“You know, there’s always the possibility that I couldn’t even have a baby. Some women can’t, after massive burns.”
“That’s true,” he said. “In which case, there’s always adoption. If, and I stress if, we ever got to that point.”
TWENTY-SIX
Monday morning. Dex and I had agreed that, even with everything going on with Danny Kendall, it was time to get busy with our respective businesses. We rolled out of bed at six thirty, took a quick shower together, and then got dressed and went out for breakfast. The Denny’s on North Sheridan was on the way, since the shop was just around the corner from my office, and I’ve always enjoyed having breakfast there.
When we were finished, I drove us to the shop and Dex pointed out that one corner of the big storage lot, inside the fence, was directly behind my office. The dumpster where I had found Marsha was right there, next to the fence. We decided to put a gate in so that I could keep my car parked there on our property.
For that morning, I simply walked around the block. I got to work at just a couple of minutes after eight, locked the door behind me and went into my office. I needed to get started on advertising, to let the women who needed me know that I was there.
I took out ads in all of the local newspapers, from the big dailies to the weekly shopper variety. When that was done, I called two or three of the radio stations and arranged for commercials. I decided to use a “public service announcement” style, talking about the dangers of abuse and then listing my name and phone number.
At about ten o’clock, my phone rang, and I looked at the display. It was Nicole calling, so I answered it quickly.
“Hey, girl,” I said. “How are you doing?”
“I’m okay,” she said. “I just thought you’d like to know that Angie woke up. I’m up here at the hospital now, and I was just stopping in to see how she was doing when I saw the nurses were getting all excited. She just woke up about twenty minutes ago, but…”
“But?” I asked.
“Cassie, she doesn’t remember anything. I mean, she doesn’t even know who she is.”
“Oh, my God,” I said. “What did the doctor say?”
“All I’ve heard is that amnesia is not uncommon after major trauma like she had. They say her memory might come back on its own, or it may not. I’ve actually read a lot about amnesia, and usually the patient will get back at least some memories, even if they don’t get them all.”
“So, she doesn’t know who you are?”
“No. Like I said, she doesn’t even know who she is. We told her, but nothing seems to be registering.”
“Well, I’d like to come and see her, but I’m afraid I might be a shock. If she doesn’t remember me, then we might be back to her being afraid of the way I look.”
“Well, actually,” Nicole said slowly, “I was thinking that, out of everyone she knows, you might be the one person whose appearance could trigger a memory. I mean, I know it’s possible she won’t remember you, and she might even freak out a bit, but I think it might be worth a try. If you’re willing.”
I thought about it for a moment. As a psychologist myself, I also knew a bit about amnesia, and her idea could possibly have some merit.
“Yeah, it’s worth a try. I’ll be there in a bit, I just need to finish up a couple things at my office.”
“Okay, great. I’ll see you when you get here.”
Of course, what I really needed to finish up in my office was to lock up and go let Dex know that I was headed for the hospital. I had planned on calling more of my clients and trying to get appointments set for that week, but that could wait until the afternoon. Right now, Angie might need me more than any of my clients.
I locked up the building and walked around the block, and found Dex talking to the Snap-On man. There was a really big step van sitting beside the building, but the two of them were in the office, going through a catalog.
“Hey,” I said as I stuck my head in the door. “I don’t want to interrupt, but I wanted to let you know that Angie woke up. Nicole called, so I’m going up to the hospital to see her.”
Dex nodded. “Okay, babe,” he said. “Real quick, this is
Tom Hardy, our Snap-On dealer. I’m going another fifty or sixty grand in debt.”
Tom turned around with a smile, and I have to give him credit. It barely even faltered when he saw me, and then he was up and holding his hand out. I shook hands with him, then looked at Dex and said, “Okay. Have fun.”
Tom chuckled, and I turned around and walked out the door. I had to go right back in, though, because the truck was blocking the exit through the fence. Tom came out and moved it, and I got my car and took off for the hospital.
When I got there, I went straight to Angie’s room. I was surprised to see that the police guards were gone, but I knew they couldn’t keep them there forever. Danny seemed to be focusing his efforts elsewhere, nowadays, so I guess they decided Angie was safe.
Nicole was waiting in the hallway for me, and smiled when she saw me coming from the elevator. We stopped just out of sight from Angie’s open door, and Nicole brought me up to date.
“She’s a little bit combative,” she said. “I think it’s because she doesn’t understand how she ended up in the hospital, and she’s obviously terrified that she can’t remember anything about her life. I can imagine how scary that would be, so I can’t say that I blame her. Anyway, I just thought I’d give you a heads up before you go in. I really don’t have a clue how she’s going to react, but if she’s gonna recognize anybody, I think it might be you.”
I took a deep breath. “Okay, then,” I said. “Wish me luck, here goes.”
I stepped into the room and looked at Angie. She was laying back on the bed, the head end tilted up somewhat, and her face was turned slightly away as she watched television. There was some sort of talk show on, but I’d never been a big fan of them and didn’t recognize this one. I walked to within a couple of feet of the bed before she noticed me and turned to look my way.
“Holy God,” she said. “Who are you?”
“Hi, Angie,” I said. “My name is Cassie, Cassie McGraw. You and I used to work together. Nicole called and told me you were awake, and I just wanted to come down and see how you’re doing.”
She was staring at my face, and while she didn’t look as terrified as when she first met me almost nine months earlier, there was definitely an aura of revulsion.
“I don’t remember you,” Angie said. “I don’t remember anything.”
“Yeah, that’s what I heard. I came to work at the Outreach about nine months ago, and I’m afraid the way I look seemed to have scared you pretty badly, back then. It took a while, but you finally got used to it. Ever since then, we were pretty good friends. You’ve even been to my house for dinner a couple of times.”
She stared at me for several seconds, and then she cocked her head to one side. “Do you have a cat?”
I smiled. “Yes. Her name is Critter, and she loved you to pieces. Each time you came over, she’d climb up in your lap, lay down, and purr. I remember you stroking her and smiling a lot.”
“I remember a cat,” Angie said, “but they tell me I don’t have any pets. You wouldn’t have a picture of her, would you?”
I took out my phone and scrolled through my pictures. I had a couple pictures of Critter, but then I found the perfect one. It was actually a picture of Critter curled up in Angie’s lap. I opened it up and handed her the phone.
“Wow,” she said. “Yeah, that’s the cat I remember.” She looked at the picture for a long moment, then handed the phone back. “I wish I could remember more than just that.”
“Well, as it happens, I happen to have a degree in psychology. The fact that you’ve remembered something is a very good sign. It means that your memories are intact, you’re just having trouble reaching them.”
“So, you think they’ll come back, then?”
“I think some of them will,” I said. “I can’t make any promises, but you should at least start to remember things about your life before long, I think.”
She was staring at me again, but the revulsion wasn’t there anymore. It was more like she was trying to analyze or quantify what she was seeing, the damage to my face.
“You wear an eye patch. Did you lose your eye?”
I nodded. “Yeah, I was in a bad fire, and that’s what happened to me. I lost my eyeball and my left ear, and ended up looking like this.”
“Oh wow,” she said suddenly. “You have a lot of eye patches, right? You put, like, rhinestones on them, that kind of stuff?”
I smiled brightly. “Yes! Yes, I like to decorate them. I put a heart made of rhinestones on one, and you told me that it actually looked nice.”
She nodded her head. “Yeah, that’s what I’m remembering. It was a heart, with lots of rhinestones. Red ones and white ones and blue ones, right?”
“Exactly. See? I think you’ll remember things.”
She reached down and picked up the call button, and pressed it for the nurse. When the nurse came in, she glanced at me for a second, then looked at Angie.
“Hey, honey, everything okay?”
“Yeah,” Angie said. “This is Cassie, and I kind of remember her. Well, I remember her eyepatch, and she’s the one who has the cat that I remembered.”
The nurse looked at me, her eyes wide. “Really? That’s very good.” She turned back to Angie. “Let me go and get the doctor, he’s going to want to hear about this.” She turned and hurried out the door, and Angie looked back at me.
“They said I worked at some kind of counseling center,” she said. “You worked there, too?”
“I did, yes. I was a counselor there, for women in abusive relationships.”
“Then I guess you’re out of a job, too, right? They said the place got blown up, and the guy who did it is the one who hurt me.”
“Yes,” I said. “I decided to open my own office, because I have a lot of clients who need me. When you get out of here, if you’re still looking for a job, I could always use a receptionist. That’s what you did at the Outreach.”
“Yeah, they told me that. It’s just that I—I don’t think I remember how to do it.”
“I think it would come back to you,” I said. “And it isn’t really a hard job, anyway. I could show you everything you need to know.”
She smiled at me, then, for the first time since I’d come in. “That’s really nice,” she said. “I still don’t really remember you, but there’s something about you that just makes me feel comfortable. You think maybe that’s just kind of a memory of the fact we were friends?”
“I’m sure that’s what it is. I’m just glad to hear you say it, because back when we first met, you were absolutely terrified of me.”
She giggled. “Oh, come on, you’re not that scary looking. And I can tell you’re really a nice person. Maybe, if you’re serious, we can talk about that job when I get out.”
I dug in my purse and found one of my business cards, the old one from the outreach, and handed it to her. “I don’t have my new business cards yet, but that’s my cell number on the back of this one. You call me anytime, and I mean that. This doesn’t have to be just about a job, you can call me for any reason at all.”
The doctor came in just then and asked Angie a series of questions. He was definitely encouraged that she was able to remember Critter; he confessed he hadn’t been sure there really was a cat that she remembered, or that it might’ve been a cat she had when she was a child. Knowing that it was a more recent memory made him feel better.
He was even more encouraged when she told him about my eye patches. The one I was wearing that day was plain, just a simple black patch with an elastic band. Most of my patches are made of leather, but they have a tendency to start to smell after a while. All of my nice ones were currently sitting in a plastic tub full of baking soda, which would leave them smelling clean and fresh again.
The one she remembered, though, was the one I had made only a few weeks earlier, for Valentine’s Day. The fact that she could describe it perfectly, even down to the colors, convinced the doctor that her memory loss was not permanent,
after all.
Nicole came back in after the doctor left, and we stayed and visited with Angie for an hour or so. She was still in some pain from the surgery she’d undergone, but she insisted it really wasn’t very bad. I could tell she was getting tired, though, so we finally left her to rest and went up to visit Marsha.
The police guards were gone from her room, as well. We walked in to find her sitting up and watching television, and she broke into a smile when she saw us.
“My two favorite girls,” she said. “How is Angie?”
Nicole looked over at me with a smile. “I came up earlier and told her that Angie woke up. I figured it might brighten her day.”
“And it did,” Marsha said. “I was getting pretty worried about her.”
Marsha had gotten so accustomed to talking with her teeth clamped shut that she was actually very easy to understand, now. I had actually tried talking with my own teeth clamped together, just to see what it was like, and I hope and pray I never have to do it for real. I sounded like a robot, and it wasn’t nice.
“I think we all were,” I said. “She’s doing pretty good. Apparently she has some amnesia, but she remembers my cat, Critter, and she remembers some of my rhinestone eye patches. The doctor thinks it’s pretty likely that she’ll get her memory back.”
“Oh, I’m so glad. That poor kid. I don’t know what she’ll do for a job, now.”
“I offered her one,” I said. “I’m planning to hire a receptionist, anyway. The doctor said she’ll be able to go home in a few days, so I offered her the job.”
Marsha just looked at me for a moment. “You’re going to go broke, if you keep hiring all of us. You need to go ahead and file for tax-exempt status. Even though the bishop doesn’t want to keep the Outreach going, I’m sure I could get him to donate some money to help cover your costs.”