The Memory Agent & Fool Me Once

by Kane, Joany

  She silently feeds him a few more bites until the chili and fries are gone. “All done, you ate every bite, good job.”

  Worry furrows into Duke’s brow. “Does that mean you’re leaving?”

  “Heck no, you’re my only patient and I’d much rather hang out in here than at the nurses’ station. How about we find something fun on TV and since you can't see, I'll provide running commentary on what's happening.”

  Claire gets a big smile out of Duke for this idea. “Sounds fun.”

  Claire turns on the television hanging above the bed. She laughs heartily at what she sees.

  “What?” Claire’s laugh has Duke curious.

  “The Three Stooges are on. Get ready to yuk out loud,” Claire states as she settles into the chair with a view of the television. As she watches the television, observing the crazy antics of the Three Stooges, Claire regales Duke with funny and crazy quips. He laughs out loud, enjoying, and especially appreciating, Claire’s efforts.

  *****

  After having spent the night at the hospital with Duke, Claire enters her condo – carrying a take-out bag. She heads straight for her desk area. She removes a soup container from the take out bag.

  She has a seat at the desk and immerses herself in Duke's dossier and studies the presentation board as she cracks a whole bunch of saltines into her clam chowder.

  She eats, reads and studies, learning all about Duke. She learns that for a few years Duke traveled the country providing security at Blues festivals. She then looks at a crime scene photo and notices that Duke was wearing a Blues Fest black tee shirt when he was shot.

  She turns her attention to her computer. She searches for blues music and, without listening to any of the tunes, she downloads a bunch of songs.

  Duke rests in bed. Eyes closed, right-hand still handcuffed. Claire enters wearing a different pair of scrubs and carrying an ipod and splitter earphones.

  Duke takes a breath. “Nurse Jasmine.”

  As soon as he turns his head, she can tell he still doesn't have his sight back, but he does have a warm and welcoming smile for her. “I have a name, you know,” she comments.

  “I know. It's Claire. The doctor told me.”

  “I hope he didn't spill any more secrets.”

  “That was it. But if there's anything worth spilling, go for it, I'm kinda bored.”

  “Sadly no. My life is pretty dull. Work, home, work. I don't even have a cat.”

  “You must like being a nurse.”

  “I was on the fence about it, but at the moment I like it,” she tenderly admits.

  Duke sincerely appreciates her response, although Claire doesn’t. She’s shocked that she said that. How is this guy having such an effect on her?

  She shakes her head as if shaking the feeling off and regains her focus. “When you were brought in you were wearing a Blues Festival tee shirt, so today I downloaded a compilation of blues tunes hoping that maybe the music will trigger some memories.”

  “You did that for me?” Duke is touched.

  “Would you like to listen?” Claire asks as she moves closer to the bed.

  “Yeah, I would. Thanks.”

  “I'm putting the earphone in your ear,” Claire tells Duke as she places the earphone in his ear.

  “Won't you be able to listen?”

  “I will, I have a splitter set of earphones,” she places the other one in her ear, then takes a seat on the chair next to the bed.

  “I'm turning the music on,” Claire preps Duke. She starts the music. Duke closes his eyes, relaxing into it. Claire studies him, noticing how the bluesy music affects him.

  An hour goes by as Claire and Duke continue to listen. They both have their eyes closed enjoying the music.

  A new song begins – Kenny Wayne Shepherd’s I Found Love When I Found You." As the song plays Duke opens his eyes.

  He looks directly – and intently - at Claire. He takes in the moment, appreciating what he is seeing, and he’s seeing her!

  He reaches out with his left hand and touches Claire's cheek. Which startles her. She opens her eyes.

  Her eyes lock with Duke’s. Their eyes stay locked as the smokin' hot music continues to play. It's a powerful, intense tide-turning moment between the two of them.

  Duke gives Claire a warm, appreciative smile. “I can see.”

  Claire, lost in his gaze, barely utters “great news.” She breaks the momentous moment between them by averting her eyes, removing the earphone and standing up. “I should get the doctor.” Flustered and flushed she hurries out of the room.

  Claire, shutting the door behind her, nearly crashes into the cop posted outside of Duke's room. “Excuse me.”

  She disappears around the corner to a quiet space where she can catch her breath and regain her focus and resolve. She then heads to the nurses’ station.

  “Duke Reeves has regained his sight,” Claire tells the nurse.

  “I'll let the doctor know,” the nurse replies.

  “I’m going to go get a water, Claire informs the nurse. She walks down the hallway and purchases a bottled water from a vending machine. As she takes a drink of water she sees a room at the end of the hall, a solarium.

  She enters the solarium and looks around. It's a quiet sitting room filled with comfortable chairs, plants, a water feature and calming prints hanging on the walls.

  One wall is floor to ceiling windows offering a dazzling view of the city lights. She consumes the water as if trying to wash down her conflicted feelings.

  The doctor enters and joins Claire.

  “Your stunt seems to be working,” he states. “His sight, as you know, is back, the swelling is subsiding. We have surgery scheduled for the day after tomorrow.”

  “But he doesn't have his memory back yet.”

  “He doesn't need to have his memory back for the surgery.”

  “If he doesn't regain his memory before surgery what are his chances of regaining his memory post surgery?” Claire asks.

  “I think the greater concern should be whether or not he survives the surgery.”

  Claire's completely startled by the doctor’s declaration. “He could die?”

  “Yes. That's a strong possibility. The failure rate for this particular procedure is far greater than the success rate.”

  So the odds aren’t in his favor?” Claire asks, trying not to sound personally concerned.

  “They'll be greater if he feels like fighting.”

  “Can you wait to have the surgery?”

  “If he doesn't have the operation very soon, he most assuredly will die.”

  The doctor leaves Claire alone. She phones Whitmore. She gets his voice mails so she leaves a message, trying to sound detached. “Hey Whit, He has his sight back but not his memory. They’re going to operate the day after tomorrow. It’s a risky procedure and the odds aren’t good. That gives us twenty four hours to trigger the memory and get him to give us Riker’s location.”

  Claire puts her phone away, wipes her face, takes a sip of water and focuses, determined to stay professional and complete her mission.

  Claire enters Duke’s room. Duke appears to be sleeping, but he's not. He takes in a breath of the jasmine scent.

  He smiles knowing that Claire has joined him. “You're back.” He says before he opens his eyes and looks intently at her.

  “I'm assigned to you. You're stuck with me,” she teases, trying hard not to get lost in his eyes.

  “The one true bright spot in this mess,” he smiles as he studies her, appreciating what he sees.

  “I just spoke with the doctor. Your surgery is the day after tomorrow,” Claire shares with Duke.

  “Are you going to be around?” He asks with a touch of vulnerability.

  Now that he has his sight back, Claire sees it in his eyes, he's scared. “Yes, I'll be around.” She takes a seat next to the bed and takes his hand in hers. “I'm not going anywhere.”

  Duke admires Claire's beautiful wide band s
ilver and turquoise bracelet on her wrist. “Very special.”

  “My high school graduation present. My Aunt Rita made it for me.”

  “Is Aunt Rita your dad's sister?” He asks, clearly and honestly interested in learning about Claire.

  “Yes, actually. My mom died when I was two so Aunt Rita helped my dad raise me. Now he's gone. She's not only family, she's my best friend.”

  “Sorry about your dad.”

  “Yeah, me, too. He was a Coast Guard captain, died while attempting a rescue during a storm.”

  “He's a hero.”

  “Yes he is. Was.”

  “I'm no hero,” Duke reveals, his expression pained.

  “There are different ways of being, or becoming, a hero.”

  Duke shrugs. “Odds are I won't get a chance to find out.”

  Claire does not want to hear this, neither Claire does: neither the Claire on a "Get Riker" mission who is trying desperately to stay focused on playing Duke for information or the Claire who's falling in love against her better judgment. “You most certainly will.” Claire encourages.

  “I hope you're right.”

  “I'm counting on you to prove me right.”

  Duke appreciates her comments, but he still looks big time worried; he doesn't look like he's ready for a fight for his life. He does, however, look exhausted.

  “You really should get some sleep.” Claire encourages. Duke squeezes her hand as if he doesn’t want to sleep and he doesn’t want her to leave his side. I'll stick around if you’d like,” Claire offers.

  “I’d appreciate that.” Duke says shyly. His eyes close as he drifts away. Claire remains in the chair, her hand in his, as a peaceful look creeps into his sleeping expression.

  Claire storms into her condo, a flurry of energy and emotion. She tosses her shoulder bag near her desk.

  She tears down a few of the photos of Duke on her presentation board. She replaces the photos with photos of: Brent, Riker, the store owner Riker killed. She looks intently at the photos as if trying to exorcise her feelings for Duke from her being and to remember what her goal is.

  Claire puts on shorts, a sports bra and sneakers and hits her treadmill. She gives her workout every ounce of energy she has in her, trying to sweat out all of her conflicted feelings. Once she feels satisfied that she's released the demons and is back on her mission, she leaves the treadmill and takes a seat at her desk.

  She flips through Duke's dossier, focused on his time spent in prison.

  From close-ups on specific pages, she learns that Duke was a voracious reader, checking out at least two books from the prison library a week. He read all of the classics, from William Shakespeare to Ernest Hemingway, James Joyce to Arthur Miller. He read biographies of historical figures and history books.

  She reads over a list of items that were in storage when Duke was in prison.

  The list includes his mom's jewelry box decorated with seashells. Inside the box is a photograph of Duke's parents on their wedding day, a couple of wedding rings and one of William Shakespeare's sonnets - Sonnet 116 - handwritten on a piece of paper.

  She flips through more Duke information learning that his mom died from cancer just months before the liquor store robbery that landed Duke in jail.

  *****

  Claire, dressed as a nurse, enters Duke’s room. She’s pushing a wheelchair with a book bag resting in the seat. Duke is no longer hooked up to monitors, but he is still handcuffed.

  “Good morning.”

  “Jasmine.”

  “I guess the nickname's sticking.”

  “Do you mind?”

  “No. I like it.”

  “How come you’re back so soon?”

  “Tired of me already, Duke?

  “Not at all,” he quickly counters with serious conviction.

  “I asked for extra shifts until we get you safely through surgery.”

  “I appreciate that,” he whispers, heartfelt.

  Claire wheels the chair next to the bed. She takes the book bag and places it in the pouch on the back of the chair. She then unlocks the handcuffs. “We are getting you out of the room today. The doctor okay’d it.”

  “Are we running away together?” Duke asks flirtatiously.

  “Not until at least after the operation,” Claire deadpans.

  Claire puts her arms around Duke to help him out of the bed. Duke, with his face close to her neck breathes in her scent and smiles letting out a faint “hmm.” She moves catching his cheek on her neck, his scuff momentarily rubbing her neck, which sends tingles down her spine. It’s a highly erotic brief encounter.

  With her help, Duke lowers himself into the wheelchair. Their lips are close, and desperately want to meet, until Claire pulls away, flushed. She might have broken the physical connection with him, but even without touching the sparks between them are combustible.

  She handcuffs his wrist to the armrest of the wheelchair, “ready for a ride?” She asks breathlessly. He nods, himself flustered, as Claire pushes the wheelchair out of the room.

  After Claire pushes the wheelchair out of the room, she hands the cuff keys to the cop. “Thank you. We'll be in the solarium.” She tells the guard.

  Claire pushes the wheelchair into the solarium. She positions it so Duke has a view of the water feature and the cityscape. She takes a seat in the chair next to Duke and removes books from the bookbag.

  “This morning I stopped at a used bookstore and picked up some books from the bargain table. I thought I'd read to you if you'd like.”

  Duke looks distracted but appreciative of Claire's efforts. “That'd be nice, thanks.”

  Claire holds up a William Shakespeare book. “Can you believe William Shakespeare was on the bargain table?”

  “That is unfortunate,” Duke teases.

  “I'll start with the sonnets so I don't have to do voices.”

  Duke smiles. “Good thinking.”

  Claire flips through the sonnet chapter, landing on sonnet 46. She begins to read. "Mine eye and heart are at a mortal war. How to divide the conquest of thy sight; Mine eye my heart thy picture's sight would bar, My heart mine eye the freedom of that right..."

  Duke, looking miles away from Shakespeare, interrupts. “I guess it really shouldn't matter what happens in surgery tomorrow. If I pull through, I'm going to jail. Either option ain't all that pleasant.”

  “Please don't think that way, Duke. A positive, hopeful attitude will help you pull through this. You need to fight.”

  “What's there to pull through for? To fight for? Jail time? I don't have the memory of it, but I feel it, I don't have anyone,” Duke says with such heartache it touches Claire deeply.

  “You have me,” Claire tenderly touches Duke's inner knee. It's meant to be a display of comfort and empathy, but it's most highly erotic. Their eyes lock, and stay locked for a long moment.

  Claire, shocked as hell by her actions, removes her hand, averts her eyes and returns her attention to Shakespeare, wanting to distance herself from her comment and actions. Duke, surprised himself by Claire’s actions, is deeply pleased.

  “Billy boy wrote one hundred and fifty four sonnets. I haven't even finished the first one yet,” Claire says, trying to sound calm even though she’s shaking on the inside.

  “Read on,” he encourages as he studies Claire with a look of true affection and appreciation.

  Claire flips through the book and picks another sonnet – the sonnet listed with Duke’s mom’s jewelry box items. “Sonnet one hundred and sixteen. Let me not to the marriage of true minds, admit impediments. Love is not love, which alters when it alteration finds, or bends with the remover to remove: O no! it is an ever-fixed mark, That looks on tempests and is never shaken..."

  She looks over at Duke while reading and notices that it looks like his eyes could be misting with memories. She turns her attention back to the sonnet pleased that the efforts could be working.

  "It is the star to every wandering bark, whose wor
th's unknown, although his height be taken. Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks, within his bending sickle's compass come: Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks, but bears it out even to the edge of doom. If this be error and upon me proved, I never writ, nor no man ever loved."

  After she finishes reading the sonnet, she looks at Duke. Something's wrong. “Duke?”

  He begins to convulse. She rushes the wheelchair out of the solarium. Claire hollers as she hurries towards the nurses' station. “Help!!!”

  Claire watches with incredible concern and worry as the nurses, orderlies and doctor attend to Duke. They manage to get his convulsions under control before wheeling him away.

  A short time has passed. Outside of Duke’s room Claire sits next to the cop, waiting, worrying. The doctor exits the room, closing the door behind him. He stands in front of Claire.

  “It was just a seizure. A result from the wound. He does have his memory back though. I told him I was obligated to alert the authorities.”

  The doctor walks away. Claire removes her cell-phone from her scrub pants pocket and calls Whitmore. “He remembers.” She says into the phone. She hears him respond, “I’ll be right there.”

  Claire stands up and paces for a while, a bit nervous about seeing Duke now that he has his memory back. She contemplates whether to wait for Whitmore to arrive, let Duke know she’s not a nurse or keep up the ruse until after the surgery for his safety and sake. By the look in her eyes she’s chosen the later. She enters Duke’s room.

  Claire approaches Duke. He's now hooked back up to several monitors. His expression is dour.

  Claire tries to lighten him up. “Please tell me you're not married to a broad that goes by the name of Mean Jean or that you own a Chihuahua.”

  “Guess you heard.” Gone is the playful, flirtatious, vulnerable Duke, back is the strong, silent Duke.

  “The doctor told me,” Claire says softly.

  “He's calling the police.”

  “He told me that, too.”

  “You don't want to know me, Claire. I am a criminal.”

  “The man I have come to know, and care about, is not a criminal.”

  “I've done time.”