by Maggie Way
“It’s all right. I’m glad you’re finding things out about yourself,” she said. “I’ll help you get all of this cleaned up.”
John sat putting lids back on jars, folding up open bags, and packages as Gretchen put things back in place. They worked quietly for a long time. Gretchen was surprised by how natural it felt, working alongside someone. Instead of living in the dorms during college, she had found a little studio apartment in Boulder to live in, hoping to escape some of the all night drinking parties the University of Colorado was known for. It was expensive, and forced her to get a job to afford it, but she liked being completely on her own.
When Gretchen graduated, she proudly took her letter of employment to the bank and got approved to buy her first house. She loved her little two bedroom fixer-upper, and she loved living alone and having the freedom to do as she wished. Standing in the kitchen with John felt right, too. He seemed to fill an empty place in her life that she hadn’t even realized was there.
“Oh, I forgot,” John said suddenly, “That reporter from Albuquerque you emailed called today. She wanted to talk to us about everything that happened, get my picture on the news to see if anyone recognizes me.”
“That’s great, John! They reported on you the day it happened, but you were so beat up there wasn't any point in showing a picture on the news. They actually thought it would be too graphic to show,” Gretchen said, remembering how awful John looked when she first found him.
The bruising was still fading, but the swelling had gone down. Maria had been right about him having good bone structure. His pronounced cheekbones had been hidden beneath puffy purple flesh for so long. His jaw line could finally be seen to be strong and square. A few cuts still marred his skin, and there was a two inch scar on the side of his head that would never go away, but it was obvious now how handsome he was.
“Do you think it will help, having my face on the news?” John asked.
“It won’t hurt,” Gretchen said. “The Albuquerque news broadcasts to all of northern New Mexico.”
“What if I’m not from New Mexico? What if I was just passing through?”
His worries weren’t just his. Gretchen shared them, though she hesitated to voice them aloud. She had put in calls to the Las Cruces news companies, and even in Phoenix and Denver. Unfortunately, none of them were interested.
“I got a blog set up for you during lunch today,” Gretchen said. “I put your picture on it and where I found you, anything that might help people recognize you. I added my contact information too, so if someone does know who you are, they can email me.”
“Thanks, Gretchen, but what if nobody ever sees it?” he asked.
“We’ll just keep trying until we figure out who you are,” she said. Walking over to him, Gretchen put her hand on his shoulder and squeezed it lightly. “You may remember soon, too. We can’t forget that possibility yet.”
John shrugged, as though he’d already resigned himself to never getting that part of his life back. Gretchen didn’t understand that. Maybe it was the total emptiness of his mind making it seem impossible to unlock everything, but she held onto hope. Dr. Sanchez said it was possible, even if not likely. Gretchen didn’t want him to give up on that, so she opted for patience.
“I keep thinking there might be someone out there missing me,” John said. “It bothers me to think I might have parents somewhere, or siblings or a family, who have no idea what happened to me. I don’t like the idea that I could be here with you, and people who knew me might be worried and afraid.” He stayed quiet for a moment before saying, “But maybe there isn’t anybody out there at all. Maybe I was as alone in the world before the accident as I was after. I’m not sure which is worse.”
“I doubt you were alone in the world, John. I’m sure there are people who miss you and are trying to find you. I’m sure they’re looking for you right now,” Gretchen said.
At least, she hoped that was true. Even though John having a family somewhere may take him away from her, Gretchen hated to think of him being alone.
“Then where are they,” John asked. The quiet seriousness he spoke with made it clear he had been thinking about this for a while. “If there are people out there looking for me, why haven’t they found me yet?”
“John, it’s only been a week. If you were just passing through New Mexico they may not know where you disappeared. It will take a while longer for them to figure out where you are.”
What could be worse for him than losing all his memories and realizing that it didn’t really matter because he didn’t have anyone in his life worth remembering anyway? Both Gretchen’s hands looped around his shoulders and she lowered her head very gently to his.
“If I had anybody who cared about me, wouldn’t I have called them while I was driving, or at least told them where I was going? They would have at least known the route I was taking and known where to look. Getting left for dead in the middle of the road should have been easy enough to find out about,” he said darkly. “If anyone was looking, I think they would have found me by now.”
Sighing, Gretchen hugged him tighter. “That may not be true. You’ll just have to be patient. Either we’ll find them, or they’ll find you. Give it some time.”
“I don’t know, Gretchen. I think I’ve lost who I was, and I don’t think I’ll ever get that back,” he said.
A week ago, Gretchen had been happy living alone, but she had friends and parents who cared about her. She was alone in her house, but not in her life. Could John have really been so solitary in life?
“Whether you were alone before, or not,” Gretchen said, “you aren’t now. And you never have to be alone again.”
John leaned his head against hers, and said so quietly Gretchen almost didn’t hear him, “I hope you’re right.”
Chapter Fifteen
The Interview
Two weeks after being left for dead in the middle of the desert, John sat on Gretchen’s couch staring nervously at a camera crew and a perfectly made up reporter. Fidgeting with the collar of the dress shirt Gretchen had bought him, he waited for the interview to start. Gretchen sat next to John looking both excited and nervous at the same time. He was glad she made him go through with this.
The weeks sitting alone at the house while Gretchen worked had given John a lot of time to think, probably too much time. After getting over his initial panic attacks at being alone the first week, he felt himself bouncing between depression and hope. The more he thought, the less hope he had. Someone should have found me by now if they’re really looking, was John’s constant thought. Gretchen’s buoyant hope was hard to overpower, and kept him from falling too far into depression. She wanted John to believe the interview would work. She wanted him to hope.
John believed the interview was a waste of time, but he couldn’t bear drowning her hopes. So they sat on the couch waiting for the crew to finish setting up their equipment and run through signal tests. They would be going on live. Itching which started beneath the cast on his leg began creeping around John’s flesh, and he struggled to ignore it. He had to keep the damn thing on for four more weeks and he was already thinking of cutting it off himself. Just thinking about the itching made the skin under the cast on his hand start to itch as well. He couldn’t wait to be done with the interview.
“Okay then,” the reporter, Melinda Velasquez, said cheerfully, “we’re just about ready to start.”
Gretchen nodded eagerly while John hid a grimace.
“I’ll wait for the signal from the anchorman, then I’ll introduce myself and tell the viewers where I am. After that, I’ll introduce the two of you, and we’ll get into the rest of the interview.”
“How long will the interview last?” John asked. Sweat dampened his skin, thanks to anxiety and the lights glaring at him.
“About five minutes,” she said.
That wasn’t so bad. He could last five minutes. Melinda looked as though she was about to say something else, but instead rais
ed a finger to her ear piece and quickly composed herself in front of the camera. “Two minutes,” she mouthed.
Those two minutes came quickly. Gretchen squeezed John’s hand tightly as Melinda thanked the anchorman and proceeded to go through the formal introductions. John smiled when she turned to them, hoping it didn’t look as fake as it felt.
“So, John, how are you feeling?” Melina asked, insincere concern for his condition plastered across her face.
“I’m doing pretty well,” he said. “Most of my smaller injuries are healing without any problem, leaving mostly just the broken bones that still hurt and give me a hard time.”
“How many injuries did you sustain?” Melinda asked.
“Um, I’m not sure. I think there were too many to count,” John said. Melinda wilted with pity. She was incredibly overdramatic.
“The doctor I spoke with, a Dr. Marshall, said you sustained a shattered ankle, a broken tibia, several broken ribs, your femur was broken in three places, concussion, multiple contusions and lacerations, as well as suffering from retrograde amnesia, meaning that you can’t remember anything that happened before your accident. Does that sound about right?” Melinda asked.
“Yeah, I think so,” John said flatly.
Melinda’s mouth tensed at his tone. She turned her attention to Gretchen. “And sitting next to John is Gretchen Gesner, the woman who found John. Gretchen, could you please tell us about how you found John.”
“Well, I was driving home from a teachers’ conference in Albuquerque when I saw something in the road ahead of me. I thought it was an animal and slammed on my breaks. I came close to hitting it, but I managed to stop in time. When I got out, I realized it wasn’t an animal, it was a person. I called 911, and the paramedics took him to the hospital,” Gretchen said. It all came out in one long breath, something John was used to, but it took Melinda a moment to react.
“How long were you in a coma?” she asked John.
“Six days,” he said.
“And when you woke up, you had no memory of the attack or anything before it. Is that correct?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“Have you remembered anything in the week since you woke up?” Melinda asked.
“No. I still can’t remember anything about my life before being attacked.”
Melinda frowned sympathetically and turned back to Gretchen. “During the time John was in a coma you were visiting him each day. Why did you feel the need to continue visiting him?”
Gretchen’s cheeks colored faintly and Melinda smiled. “I was worried about him. I knew he didn’t have anybody else and I didn’t want him to wake up and be alone.”
“And what inspired you to open your home to this man, a man you barely know,” Melinda asked pointedly.
Gretchen looked a little taken aback by the direct question, but she answered anyway. “Like I said, I knew John had nowhere else to go. With no family or friends, he didn’t have anyone to help him get back on his feet. I just wanted to help.”
Turning back to the camera, Melinda seemed to forget them completely. She was focused on impressing the anchorman. “Well, Jim, there you have it. These two have gone from tragedy in the middle of the desert to a budding relationship. It might not be the ideal way for two people to come together, but sometimes real life fairytales don’t play out exactly as they do in books.”
She seemed to be listening to something Jim was saying, then smiled and wrapped up the interview with, “We would like to remind our viewers that this man is desperately searching for anyone who might know who he is. If you recognize this man or know anything about the assailants who attacked him, please call the number on the bottom of your screen. This is Melinda Velasquez. Back to you, Jim.”
Tossing the microphone to her assistant, Melinda took a rubber band in return and deftly looped her hair up into a bun. “And we’re all done,” she said proudly. “Thank you for letting us into your home.
“Thank you for covering the story,” Gretchen said. “We really appreciate it.”
“Well, it’s not everyday something like this happens,” Melinda said. “Viewers love these kinds of stories. Tragedy, love, and a little bit of danger. They’ll eat it up.”
Gretchen cocked her head to the side at Melinda’s comment. “I guess.”
Melinda nodded and proceeded to herd her crew out the door. John and Gretchen watched them pile into the van with surprising efficiency. John was glad to see them go. He maneuvered his crutches so he could turn when Gretchen huffed next to him.
“What’s the matter?” he asked, turning around. Her eyes were focused to the side, and when he followed her gaze John was startled to see a very large man lumbering up the driveway toward the front door. He looked angry. John wasn’t sure what use he would be, but he tried to move himself in front of Gretchen. Gretchen put a hand on his shoulder and stopped him.
“John, why don’t you go sit down and rest?” she said. It wasn’t a suggestion.
“Gretchen …” John started.
“Now, John. I can handle Carl on my own.”
She was pretty angry herself, by that point. The look on her face convinced John she could indeed handle the overgrown tantrum thrower.
“Go, John,” Gretchen said, pushing him back and shutting the door in his face.
Suddenly, John was worried less about Gretchen than he was Carl.
Chapter Sixteen
Fairytales and Fights
Gretchen stalked across the grass right up to Carl. She couldn’t believe he was doing this. At least the news van had already pulled away. Being on the news screaming at her neighbor was the last thing she needed. Although, Melinda would have loved the follow up. First Gretchen was this kind and caring woman, then she was a total nutcase. Gretchen really didn’t need that right now. She didn’t need Carl fighting with her in her front yard about John again, either.
“What, Carl?” Gretchen demanded.
“What the hell was all that about, Gretchen?” he demanded right back.
“What are you talking about? I told you two days ago that they were coming to do a story about John. Don’t you remember standing right here, arguing about whether or not it was a good idea, like I needed your permission or something?”
Was he really that thickheaded? Gretchen wanted to slap him. She suspected it would hurt her worse than it would him, or she might have actually done it. Instead, she settled for jabbing him with her finger and saying, “This has nothing to do with you. It was about John trying to find out who he is.”
“A story about John, Gretchen, not about you and him meeting up like some kind of twisted fairytale. What was that about your budding relationship with John?” he asked. His arms folded across his chest, muscles tensed, trying to hold himself back. He still looked as though he were about to explode in her face.
“Are you serious? That’s what you’re mad about?” She didn’t have the energy for such stupidity. “The reporter was only saying that to make it sound more interesting. I never said anything like that, and neither did John.”
“Oh really? So she just decided you two were so cute and in love all on her own then?” Carl asked, his emotions still boiling over.
“Yeah, she did. She was trying to play to the camera and have something witty to say at the end of her report. It didn’t mean anything. There’s no reason for her to think that anyway,” Gretchen said. “I’m not in love with John, and I have never claimed to be.” Why was she defending herself to him? Her personal feelings weren’t any of his business. Despite his protective steak, he wasn't in charge of her. Gretchen did not have to explain every choice she made to him.
“So you don’t think you visiting John in the hospital all week and then letting him live in your house, and feeding and clothing him, doesn’t make people think that you’ve fallen head over heels for this guy?” Carl asked.
“Nobody thinks that, Carl,” she snapped.
“Yes, they do,” he said, his anger finally turn
ing to hurt, giving away the true source of his emotional outburst.
Gretchen’s anger at him faded. He was the one who thought she was falling in love with John. It wasn’t really about what the reporter said, but about the fact that she’d said it where everyone could hear his personal fears. Maybe he thought her saying it made it more real, confirmed everything he had been thinking.
“Carl,” Gretchen said softly, “I’m not your girlfriend. I never have been.”
Carl looked up at the sky and shook his head. “That’s not the point, Gretchen.”
“Yes it is. I know you have feelings for me you wish I could return, but I can’t. John has nothing to do with how I feel about you,” she said. “You’re a good man, and a wonderful friend, but that’s it. I’m sorry.”
“It’s just…it’s a bad idea, Gretchen, a really bad idea to fall for this guy,” Carl said.
The pleading in his voice broke her heart. In that moment, she would have given anything to soothe his pain. She knew exactly what it would take to mend his heart, and it was the one thing she couldn’t give him.
“I don’t want to see you get hurt,” Carl said.
“What makes you think John is going to hurt me?”
“Besides the fact that he might be a murderer, one of these days he’s either going to get his memory back or his family is going to come looking for him. And no matter how much you’ve done for him, he’s going to choose them over you. He’s going to break your heart.” Reaching down, he took Gretchen’s hand in his. “You know as well as I do that he’s going to leave you in the end, and if you let this continue, it will crush you.”
The seriousness in his face was too much. Gretchen should have been angry at Carl for sticking his nose into her life, yet again, but his honesty pierced straight through her. Instead of storming off, Gretchen wrapped her arms around him and pulled herself against him in a hug. He put his arms around her in a flash and embraced her even tighter.