What about us? (20 page)

I shook my head.

“May I?” she asked, only
opening the drawer beside me when I told her to go ahead.

“You have a wallet and a watch
in here.”

She pulled out the wallet and
opened the flap.

“There’s something in here.  Oh...”

“What?” I asked, hearing the
disappointment in her voice.

“There are no cards or
anything, just a receipt.  Here...”

I took the piece of paper from
her and stared at it.

“It must be because I’ve paid
for my operation.” I said slowly.

“Don’t be silly, you don’t pay
for your treatment and even if you did, they would wait until you were awake.  Here,
let me see.”

She scanned the paper quickly, then
looked up in surprise.

“You had more than four
thousand pounds in cash on you.  That’s the hospital receipt so you can claim
it back.”

I looked at her blankly; it
meant nothing to me.

“That’s a lot of money to have
in your wallet.” she said thoughtfully, “And this divers watch must have set
you back a packet.”

“So, I’m not ancient and I’m
not poor.  It could be worse...” I said, making her smile.

I looked up and saw the doctor
standing at the end of the bed.  Neither of us had heard him approach.

“I should go...” Grace said,
making that sort of half movement people do when they try to stand up, but are
not sure if they should or not.

“No, please don’t go.” I blurted
out.

I spoke too quickly and she
looked startled.  I had no idea why she was the only anchor I had in my life,
or the only thing I felt in anyway sure about and I wasn’t ready to be left
alone in my non-life with my dim-witted brain; not just yet anyway.

She nodded and sat back in the
chair, seeming to understand, without me having to explain.

The doctor was charming, full
of soothing words.

“All quite normal.” he assured us. 
“The brain is a very complex organ.  A knock like the one you suffered takes
time to get over.  Don’t worry, it will all come back.”

My arm however, seemed to give
him more concern.  Apparently I’d broken it in four places.  He waffled on for
a little while longer, but not much of what he said seemed that important.  I
discovered that I’d be there for at least a few more days, which made me feel a
little better; there would be time for my mind to sort itself out.  He told us
that he’d ask a colleague to stop by the next day, but I wasn’t really sure why. 
The best piece of information, as far as I was concerned, was that in a few
hours I could try eating something light.

Just before he left he turned
to Grace.

“You can help him remember by
talking about your usual life together, little things often help bring it all
back.  Get some of his other friends to stop by as well and family too of
course.”

He didn’t stay long enough to
see her face fall.

“Jack, how can I do that? I
don’t know what your normal life is like and I don’t know any of the people in
it.”

It took me a while to lift her
spirits again, but after she’d left, I was confident that she was not trying to
take responsibility for something that was not hers to take.  Later, as I was
drifting off to sleep, I mulled over the fact that despite everything I felt
optimistic.  I could identify the feeling quite clearly, but not the reasons
for it.  I smiled, sure that in some way the feeling was connected to her.

The following day a police
officer arrived on the ward.  The Sister introduced him to me and asked me if I
was willing to make a statement.  I wasn’t able to give much information about
the accident, but he explained that if I was willing to provide a current
photograph, a blood sample and have my fingerprints taken, they would run some
checks to see if they could help with discovering my identity.  Of course I was
willing.  As far as I knew, I had nothing to hide.

After lunch I met Dr Green.  She
had a further battery of tests and scans done and told me I had another appointment
in her office the following day at ten, where we would see if we could reboot
my mind or not.  She was very efficient and kind and the time passed very
quickly, although from my point of view, nothing was really achieved by it, so
I had little hope that the appointment the following day would bring happier
results.

Grace arrived later in the
afternoon with so many bags, I thought she was moving into the bed next door.

“Well, you don’t know what you
like, so how am I supposed to? I brought lots of different things; that way
maybe you can remember something about yourself.” she explained as she unpacked.

There were books, magazines and
a variety of edible things, which immediately caught my attention.

“I think I like food,” I said,
tearing open a packet of biscuits and enjoying the crunchy sweetness of them. 
“Mmm, I like these very much!”

“Good.  That’s a start I
suppose.  Here.” she said, passing a bag over to me, one that was softer than
the others.  I opened it and stared inside.

“Clothes?”

“Well yes.  That hospital gown,
well it isn’t really you, so I got you a couple of pairs of pyjamas, some
flip-flops, shaving stuff, soap and there’s a comb; you’ll need that when your
hair grows back.  I had to guess your sizes, I hope they all fit.” she said,
looking embarrassed again.

“Hmm, shaving stuff.  You don’t
like the beard then?” I said, looking at her sideways.

The next few days had a nice
routine to them.  I woke, was allowed to wash and shave myself and then
breakfast, of which there was never enough.  I wasn’t allowed to shower until
the stitches in my head were out and my arm was given the all clear, but that
was ok.  After breakfast I spent a couple of hours reading the books that Grace
replenished every afternoon when she came to visit.  It was only after, I
learnt that she’d switched to working the night shift for the whole time I was
in ward 5b.

Sometimes in the later part of
the morning there was an appointment with one or more of the doctors.  There
were four of them that were interested in me and they divided their time and
mine amongst themselves.

From them I learnt that I had
two abnormal bone growths inside my skull, but that they appeared benign and
were probably genetic, so were nothing to worry about.  I also learnt that my
broken bones were healing very quickly indeed.  The word ‘accelerated’ was used
in a tone that conveyed puzzlement, but overall we agreed that this was a piece
of good luck.  I was also told that I appeared to have high levels of antigens
and something that appeared similar to a complex antibiotic in my system,
neither of which they could account for.  Dr Green said that the military were
always trying new combinations of inoculations, so perhaps I’d been in the
armed forces, but it was something I never got round to following up.  Grace
was never keen on the idea.  She was also sure that the very frequent samples
of my blood that seemed to be needed, were not all for my benefit.

The sessions to help me regain
my memory were the most difficult.  I was an enthusiastic guinea pig and more
than willing for them to try anything.  Sometimes very vague ideas came into my
mind.  One was looking down at a destroyed, dead planet, knowing that it used
to be blue and green.  Another time I felt sure that I’d never known my parents. 
It wasn’t that I’d forgotten them, there was simply nothing to forget.  When we
discussed adoption as a possibility for my lack of feelings about them, that
didn’t seem to fit either.  I felt nothing, but it didn’t feel wrong to me; it
felt natural.

When they asked me to draw a
house, the type a child would like to live in, I drew what we decided looked
more like a spaceship; mainly because I drew it above the planet, not in a
street or anything.

Under gentle hypnosis I
remembered a conversation that I had overheard.  It was very distant.  Grace
was there, talking to someone else and she was very upset.  There was something
about the war that was coming and I felt that I had to do something to stop it
or stop her from joining up in some way.  During another session I remembered
watching a political rally; everyone was wearing brown shirts and it was a long
time ago, I could tell from the cars on the street.  I felt that I was actually
standing there watching it, not just seeing it on a screen.  None of it made any
sense and by the time I left the hospital we were all pretty much agreed that I
had a very vivid imagination.

There were only two things I
felt in anyway certain about: that I loved history and I knew Grace, even if I
had as few real details about her life as I had about my own.  I knew that I
knew her in all the important ways, but that didn’t change the fact that she
hadn’t known me at the time of the accident.

Grace and I were not confined
to the ward during visiting hours, so we often went to one of the cafes
downstairs where we would chat for hours.  During my in-patient stay I found I
had a knack for getting people to talk about themselves.  Most people were very
open with me and from them I learnt all sorts of interesting things, but not
Grace.  I learnt very little about her life and who was in it.  Apart from the
subject of work, she avoided any questions about anything else and little was
offered in conversation.

I did however, learn a lot
about her.  We talked about what I’d been reading and what we both thought
about it.  Books were clearly important to her and she often became quite
animated as we discussed plots and characters of those we had both read.  We
talked of places that we would like to visit and what we’d do there.  For both
of us Paris figured high on the list and I had a vague feeling that I’d been
there before, but I couldn’t explain it or even be sure about it.

I learnt that she liked
watching the rain and looking at the stars.  I could draw all the
constellations and I taught her them, without the help of the night sky.  She
liked clothes, but she didn’t buy many.  She liked things tidy and organised,
she loved watching films and her tastes ran to all kinds.  I began to think
that she also liked me and that made me very happy indeed.

She was there when I was told
that I would be discharged in two days.  The nurse suggested that I talk to
Social Services, as I couldn’t just leave and go nowhere, but Grace was not all
happy about that.

“They mean well I suppose, but
things tend to become unnecessarily complicated when Social Services gets
involved.”

She didn’t look me in the eye
as she spoke and I wondered how her life had been complicated by their
involvement in it.

Then she became quite animated. 
“Look, one of the women where I work rents out rooms to students.  I know she’s
got a vacancy because she put a card on the notice board yesterday.  They’re
not expensive and everything’s included except food.” she said, looking at me
to see what I thought.

“Well I have to go somewhere
and I have to start thinking about building a life until I remember what the
old one was like and I do have some money.  Do you think it would it be
enough?”

As I asked, I realised that I
didn’t even remember what a normal lifestyle cost.

She laughed.  “If you’re
careful, you could make that last a good five months and I’m sure it won’t take
that long to get your memory back.”

She tried to sound confident,
but I could tell that she was no longer sure that it wouldn’t take months or
possibly even years.

Grace arranged everything and I
moved into one of the rooms at the top of the house.  It was large enough to be
more than just a bedroom and it had a TV, which I found I liked to watch and it
helped me while away hour after hour.  It was just a twenty minute walk from
where she worked, so it meant that she often popped in to see how I was doing.

On her day off she took me to
the home to meet some of the residents, in the hope that one of them would
recognise me.  There was no one there that I felt close to in any way and they
all soon lost interest in me.

“We’ve had three deaths in the
last six months.” she told me sadly.  “Perhaps when you were last here you were
visiting one of them.”

“Yes, perhaps.” I said, more to
please her than out of any conviction, because neither the place nor the people
who lived there gave me any sense of anything at all.

After we left the home, she
took me to some shops where I could buy cheap clothes.  It was fun choosing
things with her and I got the distinct impression that this was in some way a
first for me.  She also led me round the market and the supermarket, pointing
out things that were good value for money and healthy eating.  When she
realised I had no idea about cooking, she tried to teach me and with some
success.  She also took me to the local library, which was an Aladdin’s Cave
for me, but she had to take the books out in her name, because of course I
couldn’t join.

She met me there one day after
work and slid into the seat beside me, looking over my shoulder at what I was reading.

“Is that interesting?” she
asked, but I noticed a strange catch in her voice.