Panic flares in his eyes, then fades. “I don’t know what I did exactly, but I know it was bad. I have these feelings, these awful feelings, they keep bubbling up inside me.” He looks down at his hands clasped tight in his lap, as if he were praying. “I wish I could remember what happened, but I can’t, and—and maybe that’s for the best, you know?” He looks up at me. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. Any of you. But I knew I had to find you.”
“You had tofindme? Have you been looking for me, Matthew?”
“I must have been looking for you. I think that’s why I ended up on that beach. I know it seems strange but I knew you’d come and find me if I waited. How could I know that?”
“I don’t know,” I answer honestly.
“Do you recognize me, Emma? Honestly?”
I feel a tug in my chest and I hesitate, unsure of how to answer. I don’t recognize him and yet he does remind me of someone so strongly. “Why do you think you were trying to find me?” I ask instead.
He shakes his head. “Because…” He sighs heavily and takes a ragged breath. “Because I put the flame out, honey.”
His words slam into me, a full-body hit, knocking the air right out of me.Oh God, it is him.I feel a rush of nausea—I’m going to be sick.
“And I want you to know that I’m sorry, Marn. I’m so sorry.”
I don’t stop to think, I stand and leave the room. It’s only as I start to run, shoes squeaking down the empty hospital corridor, body shaking, that the vomit comes.
27
DR. EMMA LEWIS
DAY 9—FMRI
It starts to snow on my morning run. Great soft clumps drifting down through the gaps in the forest canopy as I follow the track that leads away from the lodge.
I only got back from the hospital at around 4A.M. this morning so I decided to give myself at least five hours’ sleep. I’ll go in later. Matthew needs time to rest before we do his fMRI scan anyway. I’ll head in after my run but right now I need time to process exactly what happened earlier.
After bolting from his room, I managed to pull myself together in the staff locker room, thankfully before anyone saw me. Back in my office I shot off an email to Nick Dunning, asking him to move around some appointments and fit us into radiology for an fMRI today. When I woke, Nick had replied, telling me he’d booked the fMRI in for this afternoon, which is ideal. It gives me enough time to source some prompt images and questions for the test.
I let ideas flash through my brain as I run, my sneakers crunching over frozen leaves and hardened mud while the snow floats sleepily down around me and settles. Today I need to distance myself from the patient, I need to put my messy life to one side to diagnose him. While he may remind me of someone long gone, I do not know this man. And I must remember that no matter what he says, he does not know me. I need to keep that foremost in my mind, whatever happens today. God knows how he knows the things he’s been saying, but there will be a logical explanation, and I need to stay far enough away from the subject matter to find that reason.
Back at the lodge, I knock the snow off my shoes and plonk them down by the still-glowing fire. I slept on the living room sofa when I got back this morning, rumpled blankets and pillows evidence of my stay. Order slowly breaking down.
When I get to the hospital I tell the nursing team to prep Matthew and have him sent up to Radiology. I head to my office and email the questions and photos I’ll need for the test over to the Radiology Department as well. Only then do I pick up the phone and call Peter.
“He’s talking, Peter.”
“Emma.” There’s a pause on his end before he speaks again. “Well, that’s fantastic. And what’s he saying exactly? Anything helpful?”
I think carefully before I speak; how much should I tell Peter? “He doesn’t know his name or who he is. At least that seems to be the impression. You were right, the symptoms seem real. I’ve ordered an fMRI scan to verify the amnesia and the extent if there is any.”
“Good. And he consented to that?”
“Yes, instantly. It was…unusual.”
“Humph, interesting.” He hesitates. “Look, Emma, I think in this particular case it might be worth conducting the scan on your own. Just in case anything sensitive should come up…that we aren’t expecting. Perhaps once you’re set up, best to have anyone else leave the room.” He lets the idea hang there for a moment.
My stomach tightens. Is he worried Matthew might reveal who I am?
“Sorry, in casewhatcomes up, Peter?”
He chooses his words carefully. “I know you’ve signed an NDA, but, of course, we can’t have everyone at Princess Margaret’s signing one. I mentioned before, there are…concernsrelating to the patient’s identity.”
His evasiveness annoys me. “Tell me what the concerns are, Peter. If I’m going to lock myself in a room with him, I think I deserve to know.”
“Uh, well…yes, I suppose if you put it like that. There is a concern from the Ministry of Defense that the patient may be military, a missing person. Obviously, it’s not ideal that this is only coming to light now—but there we go. There are some conversations going on re jurisdiction—nothing to be concerned about just yet.”
