by Emma Scott
Lost. Gone. Scream.
My hands were shaking now. There were weeks of drawings, and I shuffled through them, picking out more word chains at random, my breath coming short. One that terrified me more than any other. A short coil of words that made up a little shadow under Cleopatra’s throne.
Love live life knife near tear seer fear wear where? here here here
“Here,” I whispered. “She’s here.”
I wasn’t stupid enough to believe her doctors hadn’t seen these drawings, but why the fuck hadn’t they done anything about them? Didn’t this mean Thea was conscious of her situation?
It’s all right here. She knows what’s happening to her.
The thought sank like a stone in my heart.
“Jesus Christ.” Inhale. Exhale. I gripped the edge of the chair as twilight fell outside the windows. “She knows. She fucking knows.”
This was more than regurgitation. Had to be. Thea was there, trapped in her own mind, and had been for years.
Nurse Rita entered the rec room, this time with Nancy Willis clinging heavily to her arm—another resident who was suffering from permanent dizziness due to an injury sustained twenty years ago. Rita set the old woman down in a chair and brought her a set of dominoes.
“I’ll be right back, Ms. Willis,” Rita said, reading my expression. “Jim? You’re pale as a ghost.”
I started to show Rita the drawings but stopped. She’d seen them. She’d been working here for years too. Anger burned in my veins which meant the stutter was lurking.
“N-Nothing. I’m fine.”
She frowned but Ms. Willis dropped a domino on the ground and called for help to retrieve it. Rita left me to assist her so I could get to work. I was supposed to take out the trash. Do my job. Throw out all of Thea’s drawings.
Her cries for help.
I dumped Thea’s drawings into a trash bag but didn’t tie the bag. I lifted it from the can and gathered the ends in my fist to take outside to the dumpster.
What are you doing?
I had a vague idea I’d take the drawings and… what? Mail them to Thea’s doctor? Mail them to another doctor? A better doctor who would actually do something about the fact she was fucking trapped in five minutes at a time?
Outside, the air was thick and sticky; the summer sun brilliant in a clear blue sky. At the dumpster at the side of the building, I reached into the bag and grabbed three or four of Thea’s drawings, rolled them into a tube and stuffed it into my back pocket, then tied the bag and tossed it into the dumpster.
“Whatcha got there, Jim?”
Shit…
The dumpster lid slammed down, nearly smashing my fingers. I turned my back to it, my heart pounding as Alonzo approached.
“N-N-Nothing,” I said.
“Mighty hot out for chattering teeth.” He cocked his head. “Nervous? Show me this ‘nothing.’”
Now you’ll lose your job, you big dummy.
I inhaled, exhaled, and handed over the rolled-up drawings.
Alonzo unrolled the papers and tucked a cigarette in his mouth. “You an art fan?”
“No, sir,” I said.
“You mind telling me why you’re saving Miss Hughes’ drawings from the trash?”
I straightened, crossed my arms. If he was going to fire me, may as well tell the truth. “Didn’t seem right to throw them away.”
He nodded and rolled the papers up again. “Come sit.”
My arms dropped, and I followed him to a bench that faced the Blue Ridge’s west wing. Crickets chirped and flitted in the tall grass as Alonzo lit his smoke.
“The word chains, right?”
I nodded. Alonzo started to speak when movement above caught our eyes. Thea appeared in the window of her room. She didn’t look down but put her hand on the glass and stared out over the forest, to the mountains in the distance.
“You can’t be looking at her like that,” Alonzo said.
I flinched and tore my gaze from Thea. “I’m not—”
“And you can’t be taking nothing from the sanitarium. If Delia Hughes knew you did this, she’d have your ass, no questions asked.”
“They feel important,” I said in a low voice. “Those word chains—”
“They aren’t your business, son. We been over this. She isn’t like you or me. She looks pretty. Healthy. She smiles a lot. But she’s brain damaged. Brain damaged.”
I shuddered. “I know.”
“Do you?” Alonzo cocked his head. “You’re reading into her scribbles like they’re a secret code. You look at her like there’s hope.”
“Hope…?”
“Hope she’s going to get better.”
“Don’t we all want that for these patients?”
Alonzo narrowed his eyes. “We do, but I told you, they’re not going to get better. Miss Hughes isn’t going to get better. Not today or tomorrow. Not ten years from now. The doctors have been all over her case. They’ve seen these.” He waved the drawings. “And there’s nothing they can do.”
I shifted on the bench, the weight of his words like a prison sentence being handed down to Thea. Twenty-three years old, with no other health issues. She could easily live to be… seventy? Eighty? Sixty more years in this place? Sixty years of drawings, introductions, and How long has it been? All the while, somehow knowing she was trapped with no way to get out.
I couldn’t fucking imagine it.
“There’s nothing they can do?” I asked. “Nothing at all?”
“Althea Hughes has one of the worse documented case of amnesia in medical history,” Alonzo said. “If there were something to be done, her doctors would do it.”
I sank back against the bench. “She’s trapped.”
Alonzo studied me a moment more then ground out his cigarette and picked up the butt. “Watch yourself, son.”
My head whipped up to meet his gaze. “I would n-n-never—”
“Never take her personal property home with you?”
He’s right. I sound like a fucking stalker.
“I get feelings about people,” Alonzo said. “Been good at reading them. I suspect you’re a good man, but this is your warning. Watch yourself and watch your hope. Watch that you don’t want Miss Hughes to get better just for her sake but for yours too.”
He handed me the drawings.
“I take it you know where to put these?”
I nodded.
“Good. See you in there.”
He walked away and when he was gone, I let the drawings uncurl in my loose grip.
Leave this to her doctors.
They were neurosurgeons and psychologists with years of training and education. I was an orderly with a high school diploma.
I stood up and headed back toward the dumpster. I shot a last glance up at the window, but Thea wasn’t there anymore.
She’s not there anymore.
Feeling more and more like a stalker infringing on patient privacy, I hoisted the heavy dumpster lid with one hand. It felt almost obscene to put artwork of this caliber in the garbage, but I should’ve left them alone in the first place. It was wrong to take them. Unprofessional. I was lucky Alonzo hadn’t fired me.
I reaffirmed my vow not to get involved in Thea Hughes’ care any more than an orderly should. It was none of my business.
I stuffed the pages in, and the heavy lid slammed down, pinning a drawing so that its corner stuck out against the rusted green metal. A word chain jumped out at me, like a goddamn five-alarm siren.
Bye lie cry try fly sly sigh high hail hell help help help
Chapter 7
Jim
I was in the employee break room, taking my fifteen minutes off when Rita burst in.
“Oh Jim, thank God, you’re here.”
“What’s up?”
“I have to attend to Ms. Perkins right now and Nurse Eric is out sick today. Would you mind taking Miss Hughes out for her FAE?”
I hesitated. Over the last few days, I’d been good
at avoiding Thea. Doing my job. Keeping my head down. I didn’t talk to her in the rec room, and I sure as shit wasn’t going to think about her word chains. I had to believe Alonzo when he said the doctors knew what they were doing or else I’d lose my mind.
“I’m sorry, I know you’re on break,” Rita said. “I wouldn’t ask but there’s no one else—”
“N-No, it’s fine,” I said. “I can take her.”
So much for keeping my head down.
“Thanks a ton. She’s in the cafeteria finishing a snack.” She tapped the doorjamb. “If you could hurry before she wanders to the front door again…?”
I headed to the dining room. In the hallway outside, I spied a doctor I hadn’t seen before conferring with a few other specialists from Roanoke. Mid-thirties, sleek black hair, intelligence sharp in her eyes.
“Hey, Joaquin,” I asked as he passed. “Who’s that?”
“Dr. Christina Chen,” he said. “New arrival from Australia. Word is, she’s interested in Miss Hughes.”
“Interested? What’s that mean?”
Joaquin shrugged. “Have you seen Dr. Stevens around at all? Me neither,” he said before I could answer. “Interested is better than nothing.”
I nodded. For days, I’d been telling Thea the doctors were working on her case. Maybe this meant it was finally true.
In the dining room, Thea sat at a table, an empty plate and a half glass of lemonade in front of her. She wore the usual drab clothes they put her in but beautiful in the summer light streaming in from the tall windows.
Her nervous glance told me a reset had just hit. I hurried toward her.
“How long has it been?” she demanded before I was halfway across the room.
“Two years, Miss Hughes.”
She nodded and eased a sigh, her eyes going to my nametag. “Thanks… Jim. I had an accident. The doctors are trying to figure out what’s wrong with me.” She stuck out her hand. “I’m Thea.”
I’d forced myself to stop counting her introductions and endured her vigorous handshake for what felt like the millionth time.
“Would you like to go for a walk?”
Thea’s luminous face broke out into a smile that made my chest ache. “I would love to. Are you my escort?”
I nodded.
She raised an eyebrow. “Well?”
“Oh, right…”
I offered her my arm and laughing, she took it. I led her to the back door that opened on the fenced grounds.
“It’s such a beautiful day,” Thea said, turning her face to the sun.
The heat wrapped around us in a thick blanket of humidity. Insects buzzed. The lush, green grasses threatened to overtake the stone path through the grounds. The high fencing was just visible on our right, with the thick forest on its other side. I wondered if Thea saw only the trees and plants and not the fence that kept her in.
“You’re awful quiet, Jim,” she said. “Not a big talker?”
“Not much.”
“I’m the opposite. My sister says I never shut up.” Thea peered up at me. “Jim is short for James, yes? You don’t look like a James. Or a Jim, even. Jimmy, I think. You have kind eyes. Do you mind if I call you Jimmy?”
“I don’t mind,” I said, my heart aching and glad at the same time. The same every time.
“Something bothering you, Jimmy?” Thea gave my arm a squeeze. “Contrary to what Delia thinks, I’m a good listener too.”
“N-Nothing’s bothering me,” I said.
Nothing was what I could do about Thea’s predicament. I suddenly regretted this walk.
Thea cocked her head. “Okay, but I’m all ears if you change your mind. Especially now. It’s so quiet out here.”
Twice she’d brought up the quiet. I wondered if the silence of her mind—empty of memory—bothered her more than the quiet of the grounds on this humid afternoon.
Of course, it bothers her. Because she knows. Her word chains are proof.
That line of thinking wasn’t going to get me anywhere. There was nothing I could do to change the future, but I could do something for her at the moment. For the five minutes she had.
“Do you like music?” I said.
Thea’s face lit up. “Like it? Music is life. I’d kill for some tunes right now.”
I reached for my phone to play something for her and realized I’d left it in my locker.
Shit. So much for that plan.
“What about you, Jimmy?” Thea asked. “What do you listen to?”
“Old school rock and metal, mostly,” I said.
“Right on. Dance and techno are my jam. Do you play an instrument too?”
“Not really.”
She gave my arm a nudge. “Not really usually means yes, but you don’t want anyone to know.”
What difference does it make if you tell her? In about three minutes, she won’t remember anyway.
“I play guitar,” I said. “And I sing a little.” The words flew out before I could catch them back.
Thea stopped walking and stood in front of me on the path. “You sing?”
“A little,” I said. Fuck.
“You sing and you play rock music on the guitar. Good grief, Jimmy. You have to know how hot that is, right?”
I coughed. “N-N-No…”
She cocked her head, her expression softening. “Am I making you nervous?”
Inhale. Exhale. Hell, I told her before.
“I have a stutter. It was worse when I was younger. A teacher told me singing can help.”
Thea nodded, then her smile returned. “I’d love to hear you sing.”
I stared. I hadn’t sung in front of anyone. Ever.
“No one’s around for miles,” she said. “And it’s so quiet. Please? Just a little sample?”
“I don’t have my guitar.”
“A cappella works for me,” she said.
My stomach tightened and my palms got sweaty. “I don’t think so.”
“Are you sure? Because—”
“I’m sure.”
Thea flinched and looked away. I cursed myself, aware of the sheer volume of trust Thea had to place in everyone around her—whether she knew it or not. Except for Delia, everyone in Thea’s life was a stranger.
“Sorry,” I said. “Didn’t m-m-mean to bite your head off.”
“No, it’s my bad. Delia’s always telling me I’m pushy as hell. Guess she’s right.” She slugged my arm half-heartedly. “You’re off the hook. I just feel like…”
“Like what?”
“Like it’s so quiet, you know? Not just out here.” She gestured at the grounds. “But all the time. Always. I know that doesn’t make sense. Not even to me…”
Just fucking sing for her. Make her happy. Her reset is coming. She won’t remember.
The ache in my chest tightened like a hand squeezing. I dreaded singing out loud, but I dreaded the reset more. How it would tear down everything we built. Another introduction. Another request to call me Jimmy. But in these few minutes, she’d have what she wanted. A change from her endless cycles of sameness.
It wasn’t about me anyway. If she really was aware of her situation, deep down, the very fucking least I could do for her was anything she wanted.
“Okay,” I said. “I’ll sing.”
“Really?” Thea’s face lit up. “Score. I am so ready.”
“Let’s walk. I can’t do it with you staring at me.”
We began to walk. Years of taunting and bullying nearly changed my mind, but before I could think about it for another second, I began to sing “Sweet Child O’ Mine,” low and rough. A slowed-down a cappella rendering of the rock song as we walked the silent grounds.
I sang of a woman’s blue eyes that thought of rain, her smile, and the beauty of her face that could make me cry if I stared too long. I lost myself in the words, inhibitions falling away with every syllable because I was singing to Thea. I was singing about Thea and it was the easiest thing in the world…
“
Are you kidding me?” Her hand clutched my arm, cutting me off.
Shit. Here it is. The reset.
But gazing up at me, those crystal blue eyes were only full of wonder, awe and—God help me—want.
“You’re so good.” She yanked up the sleeve of her ugly beige shirt. “It’s a million degrees out but I have goose bumps. Look.”
Her pale, perfect skin was raised in gooseflesh.
“You have a beautiful voice,” she said, her tone lower now. “Rough and deep and… sexy.”
I swallowed. Jesus, I wanted to kiss her. Her cheeks were dusted pink, and the sun glinted on her hair. I wanted to bury my hand in it, haul her to me and kiss her. Feel her smile against mine and taste the sweetness of her mouth.
“And you play guitar too?”
“Y-Y-Yes.”
She gave herself a little shake and her eyes filled with the desperation I’d seen the other day. “God, if only…”
“If only?”
“I don’t know,” she said. “I feel so comfortable with you. It doesn’t make sense. We don’t know each other. You’re the first person I’ve seen since I came back.”
“Thea…”
“Whatever happens, Jimmy, please don’t stop singing to me. Okay?”
I swallowed hard. “What do you think is going to happen?”
It wasn’t an Alonzo-approved question, but I had to ask. I had to know if she knew.
“I might go away again,” she said, her voice strangely hollow. She glanced around the silent grounds under a blanket of thick, heavy air. Her hand in mine. “I don’t want to go away again.”
I gripped her fingers hard. “I don’t want you to either.”
Now her eyes filled with tears and she moved closer to me. “Jimmy,” she began, but the rest of the sentence was lost forever. Time was up. Our five minutes was over.
I watched myself disappear in her eyes, then reappear as she glanced around.
“Who…?” She pulled her hand out of mine and took a step back, brows furrowed.
Remember me, Thea. Please.
Her gaze dropped to my nametag. “Jim?”
I nodded, my breath held tight.
“How long has it been?”