Page 36 of Rock Me

"Try being her roommate,” I say, trying not to laugh.

"I feel like I have been!"

I wander over to the bed and slide into it. The linens are soft and silky. Paige insists on bringing me new sheets every time she comes. I can't help but think where I'd be if she hadn't taken it upon herself to take care of everything. What hospital I'd be at... or if I'd still be able to afford treatment at all. Instead, I'm being treated by the country's best doctors, in the most exclusive hospital in L.A. I don't know how I’ll ever be able to thank her.

Robbie comes over and hands me a cup with my medication from his tray.

"How are you feeling today?" His face is open and warm. I don’t know how they do this job day in, day out. But instead of showing that their caring is finite, the nurses here have shown me that the more you need them, the more they’re there for you. Heroes, in my eyes. At the very least, it makes me feel comfortable sharing with them about how I feel. Which is the whole point, of course.

"Honestly? I feel the best I’ve felt since I arrived."

He rewards my answer with a big smile. "Good. How's the noggin?” He knocks on his forehead with his knuckles.

"Feels good, physically, memory wise, not so good, apparently. I still can’t understand how… a time frame like that can just... disappear."

"Eh, that grey stuff is pretty delicate. And the memory’s still there, your brain has just got to get back to being able to access it."

"Well, work faster brain,” I say, waggling a finger at my own head.

"You tell it!” He pumps his fist, egging me on.

I wait until my laughter dies down before I swallow my pills. Robbie reaches into his pocket and hands me a small folded up piece of paper, taking the empty cup from me.

"Some night reading for you."

"What's this?" I frown, holding it between two fingers away from me.

"It's from another patient on this floor. He asked me to give it to you. I wrote it, so... I know it's nothing too offensive. But you tell me if you don't want me to pass any more along, okay?"

A note. From the mystery guy. Jez. Why?

"Uh… No. It's fine. Thank you."

"You got it. I'm going on break for a bit, just press the button if you need anything. Anything at all."

“Thanks, Robbie.” I’m too intrigued by the note to say anything more.

He gives me a wink and moonwalks out of my room, the sound of my giggles following him into the hall.

I look down at the note in my hand, and place it on the bed tray table in front of me; unopened, unread.

What am I afraid of? I know it's nothing hurtful or offensive or threatening. Robbie said he wrote it himself, and I’m sure he wouldn't have passed it on if it was anything bad.

What could it be? What could he possibly want to say to me?

Are you afraid to read it because he's a stranger or because there might be something in the note that will prove he does actually know you?

The answer is; I don’t know.

It took a while for the doctors to really measure the extent of my amnesia. When I finally came out of my coma, I recognized Paige, I recognized my parents, I recognized some of the work friends that had come in to visit in the early days. It wasn’t until specific question about events were asked that I realized, there were holes in my memory. Parts of my life I had lived, and didn’t remember.

Him, I don’t remember him.

How could I not remember him?

It feels like being in a fishbowl, the thought of someone out there knowing me and me not knowing them.

“Fuck it,” I say out loud to the TV. And grab the piece of paper from the table. I unfold it from its perfect quarter fold.