Regression (2 page)

Suitably chastised, the child
changed the subject. “So if grandma’s turning sixty today how old
was she when she had you?”

“
I’m forty; you do the
math.”

Will, fifteen, spoke up, “She was
nineteen, then. That’s really young, isn’t it?”

“
Not back then. People
used to have kids a lot younger than they do now. I had your
brother when I was twenty-four.”

“
Is that when you
decided to stay home with us?”

“
Sort of. I did
research part time on my Master’s Degree, so I was still in
school.” Adya glanced at her oldest daughter and smiled. “You guys
were too cute to leave.”

“
Do you miss it,
working?”

“
I didn’t give up
working, just chose a different way of doing it. I think I would
have stayed in school anyway and the experience of having you kids
actually inspired quite a bit of my research. My thesis about older
siblings setting the precedent for younger ones−”

Luke rolled his eyes as only a
seven-year-old could. “Mom, you’re doing it again.”

She pulled the minivan into a gas
station flying flags at half mast. “What?”

“
Talking big…use
language we understand, not your shrink words.”

With an exasperated sigh she
replied, “Sorry, Luke. Anyway, you were my lab rats.” Serina
snorted in laughter and Luke began to squeak like a rat. Two year
old Jessica squealed in feigned terror. The gas attendant
approached the vehicle as Adya lowered the window.

“
How’s the family
today, Doctor Davies?”

“
They’re just
wonderful, John. How are your little granddaughters?”

“
Couldn’t be better,
and they’d love to come visit again any time you want to study
them. They thought it was a real hoot.” He peeked into the van.
“Sounds like you have a zoo in there. What’s with all the animals?”
The children laughed even harder while making new, louder animal
sounds.

“
I told the kids they
were my lab rats, just like your girls were. Could you fill it up,
please?”

“
Yes, ma’am.” John
quickly topped up the tank.

“
You know, I hope you
don’t close up this station; there aren’t many full serve places
left.” She grinned as she passed him the payment.

“
I don’t know…my son
doesn’t really want to take over the place. But, folks like you
keep coming, I’ll keep pumping.” The old man limped back to his
little booth. She drove on through a residential neighbourhood, to
pull into the driveway of her mother’s house. The children piled
out the sliding doors while their mother unbuckled the infant.
Grandmother Samantha approached from the front porch where she had
been waiting, grey hair in a long braid down her back. She stopped
to toss a fallen branch from the driveway before reaching the
van.

“
Happy birthday,
Mom.”

“
Thanks, honey. I saw
you at the service, but didn’t see Daniel. Is he joining
us?”

“
Yes, he got caught up
with something at the university so won’t be here till later.
Where’s Dad?”

“
Out back in his shop,
putting the finishing touches on Hope’s chest.” She peered into the
van. “You don’t have room to take it with you today.”

Adya shuffled bags inside the
vehicle before looking helplessly at her mother. “Shoot. I forgot
the diaper bag and your gifts. Do you mind if I drive back to pick
them up? I’ll take Hope, is it okay if I leave the others
here?”

“
These monkeys? I
don’t know… but, I do have a new game for them to play inside.
C’mon guys, come see grandma’s new video game.” The children rushed
into the house as their mother slipped back into the driver’s seat.
Adya reversed out of the laneway and turned the corner. The
ring-shaped birthmark on her right hand began to throb, distracting
her as she rubbed at it.

Her head snapped up as tires
screeched on her left. A large sport utility vehicle seemed to
approach her minivan in slow motion – she watched in mute horror as
the side panel folded beneath the onslaught of the larger vehicle.
A rainbow glitter accompanied the groan of bending metal as the
windows fractured and refracted the headlights of an oncoming car.
The world spun to the right, her stomach lurched, and a piercing
pain lanced through her hand as she screamed before all went
black.

“
Hope!” Adya struggled
to rise in the hospital bed while fighting the restraints of the
entangling linens. Tears rushed to her eyes as she again cried her
daughter’s name. Frantically she pressed the call button. The cord
pulled from the wall as she tumbled to the floor, sheets wrapped
around her legs. Nurses rushed through the door. From her knees,
she wailed, “My baby… how is my baby? Please God; let my baby be
okay…please let me know where she is.”

The nurses attempted to restrain
and reassure, murmuring platitudes she did not quite hear. “You
need to return to your bed. You should sit down. We’ll get things
straightened out for you.”

Her heart pounded and her breath
came in short pants as she escaped the confining sheets, stumbling
into the hall. An older nurse firmly held her arm to guide her back
to her room. No patience for anything but answers, she screeched,
“I need to see my baby, where is she?” She struck out, flailing
with all her might until a needle in her arm finally subdued her
with darkness.

Beeping roused her. A regular, low
tone sounded every second, punctuated occasionally by a higher
pitched double tone. The whirring of a ventilation system and the
drone of fluorescent lights nagged at her, bringing her to the edge
of consciousness. Muted voices were drowned by the wail of a very
young child, the sound of which finally brought recognition. She
was in a hospital room. Three people were conversing at the bedside
as she cracked open her eyes.

“
She was hysterical,
insisting she needed to see her child. We had to sedate her to get
her back into the room. I don’t think she has a child; her mother
never mentioned one.”

The nurse’s voice sounded
familiar, an echo in Adya’s head predating the panic. A deeper
voice replied.

“
She’s likely
delusional from the head injury. We need to work through the
delusion without allowing her to become too agitated.” This voice
was familiar too.

She opened her eyes. “I’m not
delusional; I just need to see my daughter.” One of the speakers
approached the bed as she propped herself up on her elbows. Closing
her eyes again against the dizziness, she regained equilibrium and
reopened them. The man standing in front of her towered over the
bed. She craned her neck to see him. He spoke softly, with gentle
concern.

“
Hello there, I’m
Doctor Redborne. Nurse Skinner tells me you gave them a bit of a
scare. I need to ask you some questions, alright?” At her nod he
continued. “What’s your name?”

“
Adya Davies. Where’s
my daughter?”

The doctor frowned. “When were you
born?”

“
April 28, 1971. Why
won’t anyone tell me if Hope’s okay?”

“
What’s the last date
you remember?”

“
November 11,
2011…”

His frown deepened and he wrote a
quick note on the chart in his hand. “How old are you?”

“
Forty. I want to see
my husband and children. Can you at least let me see
them?”

The physician rested his hand on
her shoulder, his face still clouded. “I need to check your vitals,
make sure you can tolerate visitors. Can you remain calm while I do
that?” She inclined her head, closing her eyes against another wave
of pain. The doctor raised the head of the bed and flashed a light
directly into her pupils. As she began to get restless, he
addressed her. “Adya, you were involved in a serious car accident
and suffered a head injury. You’ve been in a coma for seven days.
This is the first time you’ve been conscious during that
time.”

She looked toward the nurse for
confirmation. The woman nodded encouragement and agreement. Her
gaze returned to the doctor, still confused. “What about Hope? Is
she okay? Where’s my husband?”

“
The brain is a
mysterious organ. We’re never quite sure how it will respond to
trauma. During your coma you may have experienced a dream which
seems like reality to you. The current year is 1985 and you are a
single young lady of fourteen−”

She interrupted him. “That doesn’t
make any sense. You’re telling me I’m only fourteen?” Seeing stars
because of a vigorous head shake, she persisted. “What is this,
some kind of joke?”

“
I realize this might
be very difficult for you; you need to−”

“
I can see it all so
clearly, though−all the little details, everything about them. I
have children, a husband, a home…and you say this was all my
imagination? There’s just no way.” Standing up, she was ready to
run from the room to find the truth. A flash of movement caught her
eye, the mirror where her reflection moved in the glass. The
familiar laugh lines around her eyes were missing although the
clear blue colour was unchanged. No parenthesis lines at the
corners of her mouth echoed decades of smiles. Not the face of a
forty year old. She slumped down on the bed while the doctor
continued.

“
Today is Saturday,
July 27, 1985. You’re in Stamford General Hospital. Your mother’s
in the cafeteria on the bottom floor having lunch and should return
shortly.” The doctor gently laid a hand on her shoulder as he
spoke. “You are indeed only fourteen and have your whole life ahead
of you to have those children, the husband, the house, and
everything else you could ever imagine.”

Adya looked solemnly into his
eyes. “I’m fourteen.” He nodded. “It’s 1985.” The doctor agreed
again. “I guess I get to relive the eighties again. Perhaps this
time the music will be better.” He laughed with her, his relief
evident, and then jotted more notes on her chart. “Will I have to
stay here much longer?”

“
We need to run some
tests and keep you under observation for a little bit. You had a
serious concussion. But, if things look normal you’ll be out within
the week. I’ll look in on you again later in the evening. You
should try to rest.” With a reassuring smile on his angular face,
he left the room.

The nurse added her own notes
after lowering the bed, and departed as well. Adya closed her eyes
and visualized the life she had been living. The faces of her
husband and children were clear in her mind, especially the
children. The slightly chubby cheeks of her eldest daughter. The
wiry hair of Tyler as a toddler when he snuggled beside her in the
morning. Hope’s blue, blue eyes.

Stomach churning, she sat up
again. Swinging her legs over the side of the bed, she paused as
dizziness returned, prevented her from standing. Panic slid up her
spine and her panting breaths ruffled the front of the hospital
gown as she tucked her chin to her knees to fight the rising
vertigo. Her bare feet stuck out from under the edge of her gown
and she focused her concentration on her toes to fight down the
queasiness. Looking more closely at her feet, her eyes
widened.

“
The scar’s gone.” At
seventeen a bicycle accident had left a large scar across the top
of her foot. While riding on the handlebars of her boyfriend’s bike
when he lost control speeding down the hill toward his house, she
had spilled onto the pavement and abraded the top layer of skin off
her left foot and forearm. Slowly elevating the arm, she inspected
the intact skin. Twisting and turning both foot and arm, she gazed
at the smooth flesh, running her fingers where the scars should be.
She shook her head again, “No. No…they can’t just make twenty-six
years disappear.” Her feet were steady as she slid to the
floor.

Cautiously, she checked the
hallway from the door. No nurses within view. The elevators were
across the way and the nurses’ station out of sight around the
corner. She slipped over to the elevator, pressing the down button
before hurrying back to her room. At the ping of the indicator, she
rushed through the open doors, holding the ‘close door’ button down
with a white-knuckled finger. The portal whooshed shut, and Adya
paced the confines of the car while it glided downward.

With a quick glance through the
doors, she darted toward the front entrance.

“
Hey.” An older lady
yelled as she pushed past her. The front desk attendant rose,
concern written across her face.

“
Wait, young lady.
Hold on.” The authoritative voice did little to slow her flight.
She made it through the entrance and stopped short, her gaze locked
on the hospital sign. A rushing sound built in her ears and the
corners of her vision blackened.

THANK YOU FOR HELPING
REACH OUR 1985 FUNDRAISING GOAL $250,000

A horn blared. Adya turned toward
the sound. The angular fenders of a tiny Toyota reflected the light
from the sign. A 1984 Toyota. She slowly wilted to the
ground.

“−
fluctuations in
serotonin and dopamine. Right now her levels are high.”

She faded in and out of
consciousness, catching snippets of conversation.