by Emma Scott
My goddamn eyes stung, and I bowed my head, jaw clenched. The last time I’d cried was at Grandpa Jack’s funeral and I hadn’t done it since. But the tears that tried to get me now were different. Good. So good they scared me.
But I didn’t cry. I never cried. Thea was okay. She was there and she was okay. Free. I didn’t need anything more.
I can walk out of here with my head up.
I turned to go.
“I think that’s everyone,” Anna said. “Dr. Milton, would you like to—”
“Guns N’ Roses,” Thea said suddenly as if the name had been on the tip of her tongue and she’d just found it.
I froze.
“Sweet Child O’ Mine,” Thea said. “Oh my God, I remember.”
I turned around. Thea was walking between all the people, wending her way toward me. Her eyes wide and taking me in, a shy smile on her lips.
“And… Lady Gaga. One of my faves.”
My heart stopped then jolted again, double-time. Delia was scowling, but now Thea was singing softly, “I want your love. Love love love…”
She was all there. Standing right in front of me.
I waited for our usual script—one that we’d played out a hundred times.
How long has it been?
The doctors are working on my case.
Can I call you Jimmy? You have kind eyes…
“Hi,” Thea said.
I swallowed hard. “Hi.”
She cocked her head. Her gaze roamed my face, my eyes, my mouth, studying me. “You’re Jimmy. Right?”
I wasn’t wearing a nametag. Rita had pulled me out of the break room before I could put it on.
“Yeah.” My voice was gruff. “That’s me.”
Thea’s smile broke free, like a goddamn sun after a decade of gray clouds and rain. She stuck out her hand and said, “It’s nice to officially meet you, Jimmy.”
I had no words. None I could trust. I took her hand, soft and warm in mine, and she gave it her signature, one-pump shake.
“Wow, this is crazy,” she said with a laugh, glowing with happiness. “Crazy and good and just…”
“A miracle,” I breathed.
“Yeah. Exactly.” She moved closer to me, as if we were alone instead of in a room full of people. “And I was right.”
“About wh-what?”
“About you.”
Her smile was brilliant, shy, and bold all at once. She still hadn’t let go of my hand. “You aren’t just a dream at all.”
Part II
Chapter 19
Thea
I open my eyes for the first time…
A hospital room, gauzy white in my blurred vision. Doctors surrounded me. One, a pretty young woman named Dr. Chen, told me I’d had surgery to restore my memory. I nodded that I understood, but I didn’t. Not truly. My memory had been lost? They said I had only a few minutes of consciousness, but that made no sense. I was always there. Awake and asleep. What they called my amnesia to me felt like an endless dream in a tiny, airless box. The surgery pulled me out, woke me up. I could breathe again. Think again.
I’m alive…
Joy suffused me like adrenaline.
Another doctor, this one with an Australian accent, asked me questions:
Did I remember my name? Date of birth?
Yes and yes.
Did I remember the car accident?
No.
I remembered the four of us—me, Delia, Mom and Dad—in the foyer, taking a photo on my phone. For Delia’s… graduation. Yes. She was wearing a cap and gown.
That memory was one bookend. The other was the hospital, and in between, empty books with their pages slowly filling back up with words. The pages were being filled in, lines at a time, cued by words or scents or the snippet of a song. One familiar face blowing open a whole new avenue of memories.
Delia stayed by my side for the two days I was in the hospital. My sister looked like she’d aged more than the two years I’d been gone. Every time she hugged me tight, she stared at me as if I were an alien life form. Everyone stared at me—specialists, nurses—while I stared at this life that was so much brighter and richer than I’d remembered.
“When are Mom and Dad coming?” I asked.
“Soon,” Delia said. “Get some rest.”
I was so tired from the surgery. I wanted to sleep, but I was scared if I closed my eyes, it would all disappear.
I don’t want to sleep ever again. I want to live.
But I slept and woke, and all that had come back was still there.
I was still here.
When I was well enough, I was taken back to Blue Ridge Sanitarium, which, apparently, had been my home for the last two years. Everything about the old building was strange and familiar at the same time. The sights and smells. The wood and the dust. The disinfectant and the potpourri. I moved through a perpetual fog of déjà vu.
“I know this place,” I said in the foyer, standing in front of a still-life painting of fruit in a bowl. “I know this picture, too.”
It’s beautiful, isn’t it? The way the light falls over the curve of the apple…
The words were my own. I’d been talking to someone in front of this picture. A man. Tall. Dark hair. Dark jacket. I could almost see him… A mirage in my vast desert of nothingness.
They took me upstairs to the rec room and there he was.
He stood near the door. In white, not black, but he was there, looking as if he were about to leave. I recognized the angle of his jaw and the softness of his eyes. Another flood gate of memories opened up. Sun-drenched afternoons. Music. This man sang to me. He played my favorite dance songs on his phone for me. He saved me when—
I brushed that dark memory aside. I’d deal with it later. The same way I’d deal with whatever Delia wasn’t telling me about our parents. Later.
As I crossed the room, more came back to me—sun and music and… paint. Yes. He brought me paint. A canvas. He brought me back to life…
And now I stood in front of him, my heart pounding like a drum.
Holy crap, he was gorgeous. Beautiful brown eyes. Stubble along his square chin. Muscle and strength and gentleness too.
“Hi,” I said. This guy made me shy, and I had never been shy in my life.
I watched his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed hard and said, “Hi.”
That’s Jim. The name bubbled up from the recesses of my mind.
I saw it carved in black letters on white plastic. A nametag. But he wasn’t wearing a nametag and I hadn’t needed it anyway. I remembered his name on my own. Just as I remembered it wasn’t Jim, but…
“You’re Jimmy. Right?”
“Yeah. That’s me.”
That’s him. My Jimmy.
I nearly laughed at the silly thought. He wasn’t mine, but I was bursting with happiness that he was here. I stuck out my hand.
“It’s nice to officially meet you, Jimmy,” I said, his impending touch making me shy again.
His large, strong hand with scars across the knuckles engulfed mine. I gave it a shake but didn’t let go.
“Wow, this is crazy,” I said. My cheeks hurt from smiling. “Crazy and good and just…”
“A miracle,” he said.
God, the way he was looking at me. I searched my memory for some moment with Jimmy that was more than talk and music. There had to be, given how insanely attracted I was to him already. I found only echoes of conversations about Marc Antony and Cleopatra. And Jimmy protecting me from the sick asshole who’d made me touch him. Jimmy hauling him off of me, making him go away. Jimmy holding me and singing, promising that he’d follow me into the dark.
“Yeah. Exactly.” I moved closer to him, my hand still in his. “And I was right.”
“About wh-what?”
“About you,” I said. “You aren’t just a dream at all.”
He was taller than me by a good six inches. His head inclined slightly as if he was going to kiss me. Which was nuts. I just met h
im, for crying out loud.
Only I didn’t. We met a long time ago. We met over and over again. This time, instead of slipping away to wherever the amnesia took me, I was staying right here. If Jimmy wanted to kiss me in front of all these people, that was fine with me because I wanted to kiss him too. Badly. It would be a bow on the momentous gift of waking up, so to speak, because my God, this man was sexy in both the most obvious and understated of ways.
“Thea,” Delia said from behind me, jerking me from my thoughts. Her tone like a cold shower. “It’s time you rested. Say goodbye to Mr. Whelan.”
“Why?” I said.
Before she could answer, an older man with a grandfatherly face spoke up.
“Because your sister is right,” he said. “You should rest. You can talk with Jim again later. Tomorrow, maybe. Or the next day. Or the day after that.”
Something passed between the two men. An inside joke, maybe, because Jim looked like he was biting back a smile. I stared at the older man, my brain working as if I were on Jeopardy! and the seconds were counting down until the buzzer.
“Alonzo,” I blurted. “You’re Alonzo.”
He tipped an imaginary cap to me. “Indeed, my dear. And may I say it’s so very good to have you back, Miss Hughes.”
“Thank you,” I said. My gaze returned to Jimmy like a tractor beam. “I’m glad to be back.”
“Come, Thea,” Delia said stiffly. “The doctors have more questions.”
Nurse Rita stood beside me. “Let’s take you to your room.”
I loved Rita so much—thousands of memories of her taking care of me with kindness and patience clogged my brain, as each day was almost identical to the next.
Until Jimmy came. Bringing music and singing, paints and canvas.
Delia took my arm and physically pried me away from him. I gave him a parting smile I hoped wasn’t too desperate and let my sister and Rita drag me away.
Dr. Chen and Dr. Milton followed us up to the third floor of the sanitarium. We passed a dining room on the way to the elevators, and the scent of fried chicken wafted out.
“I’m super hungry,” I said. “I haven’t eaten anything in two years.”
“Of course you have,” Delia said. “Don’t exaggerate.”
“Wait, please explain, Thea,” Dr. Chen said. “What do you mean by that?”
“I mean that I know that I ate, but I can’t remember eating. Does that make sense?”
She and Dr. Milton exchanged glances.
“Is that bad?”
“Not at all,” Dr. Milton said. He had a silver beard and a full head of hair the same color. He reminded me of Jeff Bridges but with Hugh Jackman’s accent. “Do you find you can describe many of your memories this way?”
“I can clearly remember things from before the accident. With details. But my time here…” I gave my head a shake. “The details are fuzzy. Maybe they’re not all back yet?”
Like Mom and Dad. They’re not back yet, either.
A soul-deep fear dug itself into my heart, and suddenly I lost my appetite.
“I want to lie down,” I said.
Rita led me to a door with 314 on it. I noticed the lock was on the outside of the knob. Inside, the room was spare and drab. No color. No art on the walls or decor of any kind, unless you counted all the papers taped everywhere.
This is the closet said one taped to what was obviously a closet.
“Was I not only an amnesiac but a moron too?” I teased.
Rita laughed. “We figured better safe than sorry.”
Inside, the clothes were nearly all white and beige. Nothing with a pattern or color.
“Who was in charge of my clothes? Let me guess.” I shot my sister a look.
Delia lifted her chin, wearing her stiff, stubborn, I’m-always-right expression, which meant she was the guilty party. “I’ve been managing your money on things you need. Flashy clothes aren’t on the list.”
“Obviously,” I said, wandering the tiny room. Examining the little reminders on every wall.
This is the bathroom, on the bathroom door.
Smell your breath, said the one taped to the bathroom mirror. If it’s not minty, brush your teeth. If it is, you already brushed.
“Unreal,” I said, and then I realized I was tired. My lower back ached from the bone marrow extraction they’d said I had, and sensory overload made my eyes want to close. I climbed into the twin bed, propped up on the pillows. “Why is this room so godawfully boring? I didn’t stop loving art. Or Egypt. Or color. What gives?”
Delia started to speak up, but Dr. Chen intervened.
“Until the advent of Dr. Milton’s research, you were misdiagnosed,” she said. “Stevens believed you were completely unable to lay down new memory. That your few minutes of consciousness were all you had.”
“So it didn’t matter what I wore or what my room looked like? I wouldn’t remember it anyway?”
“Essentially, yes.”
Delia looked guilty again. “I felt the less stimulation, the better. To keep you calm.”
“I guess I understand. I can hardly explain what it was like for me. I was here, but I couldn’t grasp anything. Like trying to climb out of a box and constantly sliding back down. No thoughts. None that I could hold on to, anyway.”
I looked to Delia, sitting on the edge of my bed.
“But I know things,” I said. “I know things from these two years since the accident that I can’t actually remember knowing. I wanted to paint. Constantly. I was starving for it. I can’t remember feeling that, but I felt it.” Tears started to sting my eyes. “And music. And color. I wanted those things.”
“You had seizures, Thea,” Delia said. “Do you remember those?”
I met her gaze. “I remember wanting to be with you, every minute. Seeing you made me so happy but somehow, I knew you’d vanish. And it scared me. Terrified me. I know that without remembering it.”
I swallowed hard; the tears threatening to overwhelm me now.
“I remember asking you when Mom and Dad were coming,” I said, my chest hitching, my hands clutching the sheet. “But they never came. Not in two years. I don’t remember how I know that, but I know that. Tell me now, Delia. Tell me the truth. Where are Mom and Dad?”
From my other side, Rita suddenly took my hand, tears in her own eyes.
“No,” I said, looking between her and Delia, shaking my head. “No, please…”
“The accident was bad,” Delia said, her voice hardly more than a whisper. “It’s a miracle you survived.”
“But Mom? She didn’t make it?” I had to stop to breathe, the sobs wanting to erupt as the horrible truth bloomed in me like an icy black hole sucking the light and warmth out of the room. “And Daddy? He… He’s gone? They’re both gone?”
Delia’s eyes filled and spilled over as she nodded.
“Oh my God,” I whispered, tears streaming. I let go of Rita and held my arms to my sister. “Oh my God, Delia…”
Wordlessly, Delia moved to sit beside me, and I clutched her to me, sharp angles and all, and we cried. Her body shook soundlessly while the sobs tore out of me. Mom and Dad were gone, and now the memories were all I had.
Delia brushed the hair from my wet cheeks. “Get some sleep now.” She sniffed and turned to the doctors who were watching in solemn silence. “No more questions today.”
“Of course,” Dr. Chen said. The team filed out, Rita last.
“I’ll be right outside the door if you need anything.”
“Thanks, Rita,” I said, my voice a croak. “Deel,” I said, the tears starting again. “For two years, you didn’t tell me.”
“How could I? What would it do to you, to tell you over and over—?”
I was shaking my head. “I meant, for two years, you dealt with them being gone alone. And me. I was gone too.”
Delia straightened, dabbed her eyes with a Kleenex from her purse, shifting back into her business mode. “I did what I had to do. And I wa
sn’t…”
“What?”
She patted my hand. “Sleep now. We’ll talk more later.”
“We have lots to talk about now, don’t we?”
Her smile was stiff as she left, quietly closing the door behind her. Memories of my parents—thousands of them—swarmed up at once, bursting through as if making up for being barricaded for so long.
I curled into a ball on my side, like a burnt leaf, and cried until my stomach ached. I wished Delia hadn’t left. Maybe I could call Rita in. I didn’t want to be alone. So fucking exhausted by it. I wanted to be touched. Human contact. Someone to hold on to so that I didn’t slide back into oblivion.
I want Jimmy.
My lungs sucked in a huge breath. Just thinking of him brought relief. With tears drying on my cheeks, my sobs hiccupping, and grief a heavy stone in my heart, I slept because Jimmy was there. I listened to his voice. I felt his arms around me.
He was all there, in my memory.
Chapter 20
Jim
When I walked into the break room at seven the next morning, Alonzo and Rita were there, wearing identical, bemused smiles.
“Shut up,” I said, turning to hide my own smile in my locker.
Alonzo chuckled. “Glad to see you’ve come to your senses.”
“I’m only here because…”
“It made Thea so happy?” Rita finished. “Good enough answer for me.”
“She wasn’t happy long,” Alonzo said.
I turned around. “What do you mean?”
“Delia told her about their parents.”
“Shit.”
“Poor thing.” Rita checked her watch. “I want to be there when she wakes up.” She started out the door then stopped. “Jim, would you take her on her FAE today?”
I frowned, even as my stupid heart leaped at the idea. “She’s back on a regular sanitarium schedule?”
“For now,” Rita said. “Dr. Chen wants to integrate her back into life slowly.”
“Delia’s not going to allow me anywhere near her.”