Page 37 of Rock Me

It opens, to two words scribbled in black ink.

Autumn Leaves.

I read it again. And again.

Autumn Leaves.

How?

How could he know this? My love affair with that word. With that kind of music?

HOW?!

I scrunch up the note and throw it across the room.

No. NO!

Just fucking relax, Noémie. Don't make more of this than it is. It could mean nothing at all. He's probably bored, looking out the same window you are. See the same trees starting to bloom into life, to welcome the rebirth of spring. It's no surprise you're having the same thoughts about nature.

But he's didn't say “spring fever” or “peach blossoms.”

He said, Autumn Leaves.

A shiver dances slides down my spine, and I pull the blanket up to my chin, my whole body chilled.

No more notes from Robbie, I tell myself. No more.

I point the remote at the television, relying on it to distract me from my own life for a while.

It’s past midnight when I finally allow myself to switch the television off, mid late-night talk-show. And the scrunched-up note is still glaring at me from its spot on the floor across the room. I can't sleep. I can't stop thinking. Thinking about what it means.

I turn onto my side in bed, facing the window and there's a reflection of my ukulele against the glass pane. I haven't picked it up since he came into my room yesterday.

Him. That mystery man. Jez.

He looked like he knew me. He really did.

But there’s not even the slightest whisper of recognition in my mind. I’ve searched. I really have. I wish I did remember him. Because maybe I could be with him right now.

I'm not going to be able to sleep. That's clear at this point, I slip out of bed and pick up my ukulele. It's too late to play now, I don't want to disturb the other patients.

But I need to. It’s like an itch in the tips of my fingertips I just can’t scratch away.

And I can process the tangled thoughts in my brain when I play.

I hadn't realized how much I'd missed it until yesterday and the notes had just come tumbling out of me.

Then that... guy. That stupid guy had to come into my room, my life, and scare me.

Screw that. Screw him.

I tuck the uke under my arm and poke my head out into the hallway. The nurse's station is empty, they must be busy with someone, I slip quietly past it, and tip toe down into the last room on the floor. It's the family room, where visitors can come and sit and visit with the patients, away from their private rooms. It's the only non-white room on the floor. It's carpeted and warm, there are couches and tables set out and book shelves full of books and games and large TVs mounted on the walls.

I slip inside and pull the door as far closed as I can. It’s heavy and there’s an open gap but I leave it.

The room is dark, there's just the soft, ambient light filtering through the gap in the door and the flickering LED lights on the electronic equipment.

It's such a stark contrast to the busy activity of the day.