“We’d better stop that bleeding on your hand, at least,” he said, and I wanted to cry happy tears. I wanted to throw my arms around him and hug him, but didn’t.
I walked into a small lounge and glanced around. The floor was almost completely taken up by a huge flat-screen-TV box that had been ripped open. Bubble wrap and bits of cardboard lay scattered across it. I looked up at the wall, where the massive TV had just been mounted. It was enormous, completely disproportionate to the size of the room. A drill lay next to little cement piles on the floor.
“It’s . . . it’s new,” Noah said, sounding self-conscious about it. “I never have time to watch TV. And I’m taking some leave and thought now would be a good time to catch up. I haven’t even watchedGame of Thronesyet.”
“Game of Thrones. . .” I repeated, and then something hit me. “Dragons. Daenerys Targaryen.” I clicked my fingers a few times as images from the show flashed in front of me.
“I much preferredThe Handmaid’s Tale. Wait . . .” I paused. “You see, and how do I know that and not my own name? It makes no sense.”
“That’s pretty common with amnesia, actually. Fragments of memories come back, and not necessarily in the order you want them to.”
“That’s what Dr. Cohen said.” I looked around the room some more, and that’s when I noticed the piece of paper stuck up on the wall. I ran my eyes over the words. All of them familiar.
“My list.” Noah came up behind me. “Of TV shows I have to watch while on my break.The Handmaid’s Taleis down there.” I knew all these TV shows, I could see bits and pieces of each of them playing in my head in short bursts.
“I think I’ve watched these,” I said, wishing I could see more than that.Who had I watched them with? Where had I watched them?
A cool breeze blew in from the open door and Noah rushed to close it.
“Autumn. Definitely getting colder in Jozi now.”
I nodded, even though I had zero idea of how to quantify that. The Johannesburg weather. How did I know what was a cold day, or a warm day? I had no memories of Joburg weather.
“Let me get something for your hand.” He disappeared down the passage and I watched him go. I hadn’t noticed until now how big he was. Muscular. As if he worked out a lot. He had been a blur of shapes and sounds when I’d last seen him, but now he was high def. He came back moments later with a cloth, some cotton wool, cream and a plaster.
“May I?” he asked, looking down at my hand.
I wanted to scream,yes! Please take my hand again, because you holding my hand is the only thing that has felt vaguely normal in days. But that made me sound like a stalker, which at this stage I wasn’t altogether sure I wasn’t. But I kept that thought to myself and raised my hand slowly.
He took it tentatively at first, and the warmth that came radiating off it was instant. It tingled up my arm, familiar and comforting. I closed my eyes to record this feeling, so I could keep it mentally and conjure it up when I needed to feel better.God, maybe Iwasa stalker?I opened my eyes again and watched as he gently wiped the blood away, put a layer of strong-smelling cream on the grazes, and added a few plasters. When he was done, his hand began to move off but just as his fingertips were about to completely leave, they lingered for a second. I looked up at him. His eyes were locked to my hand. He blinked a few times rapidly, as if something was confusing him, and then he pulled his hand away quickly.
“That should stop any infection.” He moved away and we fell silent. It pressed down so hard on us that I wanted to say something to break it. Anything. Why wasn’t he saying anything?Why was he just looking at me like that?
“I’m sorry I came here so late,” I whispered.
He lowered himself into a chair and I did the same. “The thing is, you can’t be here. It’s inappropriate—you’re my patient. And you can’t just leave the hospital without being discharged. And I’m sure the whole ward is in a panic right now, looking for you. They might have even called the police in, since you’re considered a . . . vulnerable person.” He said this last part delicately.
“Because I still don’t know who I am?” I asked.
“Yes. I’m going to have to contact the hospital and let them know where you are, and we are going to have to go back.”
“You can’t take me back!”
Noah started shaking his head at me, and I wanted to reach out and physically stop it. But I couldn’t, so I aimed my words at it, hoping they would have that effect.
“Please! I don’t want to go back. I feel like I’m going to die if I go back to that place. I can’t be there for a second longer. I can’t! I’m begging you!”
Noah put his hands together in his lap and squeezed, as if he was really wrestling with this. His knuckles whitened, and I had the urge to hold his hand again.
“I can’t. This is highly inappropriate—it could even be illegal. This has never happened to me before, so I don’t know what it is. I can’t have you here without some kind of permission, I’m going to have to call the hospital.”
Tears dammed up, slowly at first. But then they pushed their way out of my eyes, climbed down my lashes and threw themselves onto my cheeks. I was surprised to hear the sound that rose up out of my throat with the tears. And to feel my shoulders shaking backwards and forwards with such force that my whole body seemed to be moving on the sofa. I gripped my knees with my hands, stuck my fingernails into them, trying to stop myself. But I couldn’t. It was as if someone had pulled the plug out of the bath and everything that was in it was pouring out, unstoppable. Out of the blurry corner of my eye I saw Noah rise up out of his chair. He rushed towards me, not tentative this time. And the thing I’d longed for the most, the thing that I’d been thinking about, happened. He slipped a hand through mine and gripped it tightly. I squeezed back, as hard as I could, trying to convey everything I was feeling in that one small gesture.
“I’m sure you must be feeling very frightened,” he said. “Not knowing who you are. Not having any memory. And I’m sorry this happened to you, I wish it hadn’t. But still, I have to contact the hospital and let them know where you are. And I have to take you back.” He gave my hand another squeeze, but this time it had a feeling of finality to it, which made me cry even more. He got up and disappeared down the passage once more. It felt like he was gone for an eternity, and when he finally returned, he was holding a phone in his hand.
“I’m sorry,” he said again softly and then started dialing the number.
CHAPTER 11
