Intimate Strangers (2 page)

When he tried to release her hand, she held on to him with desperation. "Don't leave me, I don't have anyone, please don't leave me," she begged.

The doctor eased himself back into the chair and brushed the hair off her forehead with a caressing motion. "Sara, don't be so frightened; you're not alone," he murmured soothingly. "I'll be here to help you any way I can. But there's someone else who can help you far better than I." He stroked her forehead again. "You're married and your husband's been here at the hospital - almost from the moment they brought you to the emergency room."

Sara's eyes opened wide in disbelief. "My husband! I'm married?"

"Yes, you are and I must say that's quite a man you have there. He'll be so relieved to hear you're conscious. Now, no more questions. You need to sleep, so I'm going to have the nurse give you a shot and the next time you wake up, you'll feel a little better and all this won't seem quite so frightening." The doctor smiled warmly, mumbled something to the nurse, and left the room before Sara could ask him anything else.

Sara closed her eyes.
What in the world is wrong with me
? she moaned to herself.
How could anyone forget everything
? Sara's brow furrowed and a deep pain slashed across her forehead, making white sparks dance behind her closed eyes.
Sara Alex
ander… Sara Alexander, she repeated to herself, but her mind remained a pain-wracked blank. No images, no faces, no memories. Then the sound of the doctor's words filled the void. "You're married and your husband's been here at the hospital…"
Married! Husband
! Her mind rebelled at the words.
How can I be married and not remember that? And whom am I married to? What does he look like
? She pressed her eyelids together in concentration as she tried to recall what he looked like, tried to remember his face.
Face
! Of course, her face!
Surely you couldn't forget your own face. I know if I looked into a mirror and saw my face, I'd remember everything
. She raised her head slowly and saw the nurse standing at the foot of the bed checking a hypodermic needle filled with a colorless fluid. "Nurse, could I please have a mirror?" she asked weakly.

"Not now, Mrs. Alexander. I'm going to give you a shot so you can go to sleep. When you wake up, I'll check with Dr. Maxwell about giving you a mirror." The nurse lowered the needle and injected it into her arm without further conversation. Soon Sara's eyes were heavy and she drifted off to sleep, a sleep where there was no mystery or pain.

Opening her eyes abruptly, Sara was released from the nightmare that had been gripping her. She was still groggy and the nightmarish feeling clung to the edges of her mind. The man in her dream seemed familiar to her, but she couldn't connect a name with the face. The harder she tried to get his face into focus, the more it dissipated, and the man's face that had been so clear when she was asleep was now just a fuzzy remnant. Somehow, though, she knew, that in some way, he was very important to her.

"Good morning, Mrs. Alexander."

Sara turned her head and saw a nurse standing beside her bed. She had been so intent on recalling the man's face that had appeared in her nightmare, her mind hadn't registered another presence in the room.

The nurse was hovering over the bed, fussing with her pillows and straightening the sheets. "It's a beautiful morning. We're supposed to have temperatures in the middle sixties today. I hope that means winter is over and spring is here to stay." The nurse prattled on as she lifted Sara's arm to take her pulse. "Washington, D.C., is at its most beautiful in the spring, although the cherry blossoms are going to be late blooming this year, but I love living here."

Some of the nurse's banal chatter penetrated Sara's mind.
Spring! I don't even remember winter
! She felt so bewildered and frightened and her thoughts whirled around in her head.
Isn't there anything I can remember
? Sara put her free hand up to rub her aching head. "Excuse me, what did you say?" asked Sara, realizing the nurse was speaking to her again.

"I said, your head will still ache a bit, but it's nothing to worry about. It's just the last dregs of the concussion you have. I'm going to give you a sponge bath then your breakfast because Dr. Maxwell will be coming in soon to check you and I'd like you to be ready for his examination." The nurse moved to the foot of Sara's bed and wrote some notes on a chart.

"Yes, that's fine, anything you wish," Sara mumbled distractedly. Dr. Maxwell… she vaguely remembered him. He was that big burly man with unruly salt-and-pepper hair who had been so comforting to her last night… or was it last night? She wasn't sure of anything anymore. People had come and gone, floating through her semiconsciousness and between the pain and the drugged stupor she was kept in; people and time meant nothing.

She tried to focus her mind on Dr. Maxwell. He was the man who had tried to explain to her why she was in a hospital. He had told her she had amnesia from a concussion, that she had been in a car accident. She felt almost triumphant! She could remember him and what he had told her. So why would he say she had amnesia? She could faintly recall them moving her from Intensive Care to this room. But the memory was more like a dream, and she suddenly realized she couldn't remember anything that had happened before that.

Once again her mind churned and caused that now familiar sense of befogging pain. A ball of quivering anxiety shot through her chest to meet and increase the ache in her head. She was married! He had told her that she was married! How could she forget such a thing? The idea that she couldn't remember her husband frightened her and made her feel disoriented.

She had to concentrate on something she knew she remembered; maybe that would break the grip of this immobilizing fear. Testing herself, she tried to remember Dr. Maxwell's face in greater detail. It was craggy with graying eyebrows. Of course, her face! "Nurse, could I please have a mirror?" Sara tried to sit up but grabbed her side and winced with pain.

The nurse came over to the side of her bed and gently settled her back onto the pillow. "Mrs. Alexander, you must keep in mind that you have had surgery. We encourage our patients to move about and sit up, but please do it slowly. These quick moves and thrashing around could hurt you. Now, I'll raise your bed and you can fill out your menu for tomorrow. And after I've given you a sponge bath, I'll bring in your breakfast."

With quick efficiency the nurse clutched the control and along with a low, humming noise, Sara felt the bed move and soon found herself in a sitting position. A tray table was placed across her bed, a menu and a pencil on the tray, and the nurse was out of her room before Sara could ask her again about having a mirror. Frustration brought quick tears to her eyes and her thoughts raced through her brain so rapidly, they almost tumbled over each other.
There's something wrong that they don't want me to see. It must be my face! What's wrong with my face that no one will give me a mirror
?

With trembling fingertips she tentatively touched her cheeks and flinched from the slight touch. The flesh was tender and sore, but she felt no bandages until her exploring fingers reached her forehead where there was a small square of gauze. Other than the small patch and the soreness, there didn't seem to be any cuts or stitches. She traced the moisture from her tears down her cheeks and shuddered, knowing that she had to try to keep some control over her emotions. What she wanted to do was to scream with outrage that she was thrust into this alien existence. But she knew if she let go and caved in to her fear, she would give up any chance to rebuild her life. She knew that weakness and tears wouldn't solve the situation nor heal her wounds.

Sara wiped the tears from her eyes and with determination took the pencil in her hand and quickly filled out the menu. She sighed and laid her head back against the pillow. Suddenly a light of hope flickered in her mind and she felt a surge of joy.

She picked up the menu and looked at it in wonder. Grasping the pencil in her right hand, she sensed how comfortable it felt there. Again tears came to her eyes but now for a different reason. She liked sugar and milk in her coffee and held a pencil in her right hand! Excitedly she kissed the menu and waved the pencil in the air. At least she knew these things instinctively and if she could remember this, there must be hope for remembering everything else.

She lay in her bed propped up by several pillows, waiting for the doctor to come to her room. She felt a little better, in fact had almost enjoyed eating the soft-boiled egg and cereal she had been served for breakfast. The nurse had sponge-bathed her and had brushed her hair back and caught it with a clip at the nape. Thinking was not quite so painful, and her thoughts were a little clearer. She supposed it was from the realization she could remember something and that had given her hope. But she had to have some answers if she was going to be able to cope, and the most important answer she needed was to the question of how long this amnesia would last. Deep in thought, she was barely aware when the doctor breezed into the room.

"Good morning, Mrs. Alexander." He took a chart from the waiting nurse and studied it. After a quick conference with the nurse, he walked over and stood beside Sara's bed. As he examined her, he said, "I see you've been a model patient—slept all night and ate a good breakfast. How do you feel today?" He finished probing her and pulled the chair close beside her bed and sat down.

"Except for a sore head, sore side, a lead foot, and a numb brain, I guess I'm okay. But why won't anyone give me a mirror? Is there something wrong with my face?" Sara demanded.

"You are indeed feeling better, Sara. May I call you Sara?" he asked with a pleased look on his face, amused by her bravado.

The smile that quivered around her mouth made the skin on her face tingle with twinges of pain. "You can call me Joe and I wouldn't know whether you were talking to me or not!" The laughter in her eyes was slowly replaced by a haunted expression. "Why won't anyone give me a mirror?" she asked in a small shaky voice.

Dr. Maxwell took her hand and squeezed it. "Because I told them not to give you one. Your face is bruised and swollen and you have a bandage on your forehead. Even if you could remember everything, you wouldn't recognize yourself. I'll strike a bargain with you. As soon as the swelling goes down and the bruises start to fade, I'll hand you a mirror myself." He smiled at her and thought to himself that he could see her beauty beneath the bruises and that she must really be a lovely woman. He squeezed her hand again.

"It's a deal," Sara replied, in control of herself once more. "How long will it be before I can remember anything about me?"

The doctor shook his head. "I don't know how long the amnesia will last. It's a very peculiar occurrence, but I think once you're back home and in familiar surroundings, things will come back to you a lot more quickly. I wish I could tell you more, but to be perfectly truthful, I really don't know. Your head will hurt for a few more days because of the very severe concussion, but the confusion you feel is probably more from the anesthetic and pain killers than the bump on your head. You must take things slowly and not push yourself. Try to take it day by day, although I know it's hard to do. If you remember something, fine, just don't try to reach for it. Let the memories come to you."

Sara nodded her head in exasperated agreement. "I found that out this morning when I woke up from a nightmare. The harder I tried to recall a face I had seen in my dream, the more quickly the face faded. But I'm desperate; I have to remember." Sara turned her head away with such a forlorn look on her face that Dr. Maxwell gasped. "Sara, don't try so hard, it will come."

He held her hand lightly. "Your husband would like to see you for a few minutes. Do you feel up to that?"

"I don't know…" Sara looked up at him, hoping he would give her the answer.

"I don't think it would be such a bad idea for you to see him. I feel sure he can answer your questions better than I. The poor guy's been here five days now, waiting to see you awake. Every time he's been in to see you, you've been unconscious or sound asleep. I've told him not to stay too long this visit because you still need plenty of rest and no excitement. Remember what I said though, don't reach for the answers, let them come to you. Frustration isn't going to help you at all. I'll be in to see you again this evening." He walked to the door then turned to look at her with an impish grin on his face. "Take care of yourself… Joe!"

Sara laughed weakly as he swept out the door, his white coat flapping around his knees. Dr. Maxwell's sense of humor and his genuine concern made her feel almost confident that she would get well and remember everything.

A nurse appeared in the doorway as Dr. Maxwell left. "Would you like me to ask your husband to come in now?"

"Yes, please." Sara wiped her palms nervously on the sheet and took a deep breath, fear mixing with hope. Maybe when she saw him, the past would all come back to her but… but what if it didn't… ?

Following the nurse, a tall, well-built man came into the room, carrying a huge bouquet of flowers in his arms. Sara's breath caught in her throat; she knew she had seen his face before, but where? Then the veil of forgetfulness shifted just a little. His face… it was the face of the man in her nightmare. That's the only way his face was familiar to her. Not a flicker of recognition, of memory, or anything else. Just that he was the man from her dream!