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“We will keep you overnight for observation, Mia, but if all checks out, I will be happy to release you tomorrow.” The doc’s caring eyes smile with sincerity. “Any memory loss is a result of the head trauma, typically some memories are retrieved, but you may never recall the event.”
“Thank you, Dr. Singh,” Richard and my mother nod in agreement.
“Let’s keep this visit brief and allow Mia to rest. If you need anything, please let the nurses know.” With that, the good doc leaves and Richard follows him into the hall, I assume to discuss any particulars he doesn’t want my mother and I to hear. This momentarily irritates me, makes me feel like a child, but I brush it off because frankly I’m in no shape for a battle about overbearing parenting! I look at my mother who has not stopped holding my hand, and I’m happy she is here.
Suddenly, the thought strikes me… “Mom, how did you know I was in the hospital? If I was mugged and all my belongings were stolen, how did anyone know who I was?”
The immediate anguish on her face makes me bristle.
“It was the ER doctor who recognized you. When they brought you in, the doctor recognized you from, well, uh, from your accident last year…” Before I can utter a reaction, she continues with, “…but let’s not think about the past. I am just so grateful that I have you back safe and sound.”
It is all I can do to focus on my breathing and avoid a full-scale panic attack. Every time I think about that night, the demons still follow me. It’s been all I can do, to try and forget. I want to forget it more than anything, but the irony of my past invading my present is threatening to fuck up my future.
With a measured breath, I respond with, “Me too, Mom. I just wish I could remember. How did I get here? Who brought me to the hospital?” No matter how hard I try, I can’t remember.
Then, for the briefest moment, a face. A face flashes in my mind, but instantly it’s gone.
I know that face. It ishisface.But who is he?
I can’t hold onto the memory long enough. I don’t know who he is, but I know he saved my life.
It’s good to be home, even with my crazy-overbearing mother calling to check on me every five minutes, and my BFF and roommate, Alex, peeking her head into my room every five seconds. “I’m fine, Alex. You can stop stalking me now.” My lips curl into a small smile.
I can’t ever get mad at Alex. She is always there for me, loyal to a fault—the kind of friend who would help me move a dead body and never tell a soul. I love her fiercely and she knows it. She is just as unruly and outrageous as her red curly hair, but that’s her charm.
“Sorry for hovering, but I can’t believe I wasn’t here. You could have died!”
“I didn’t.”
“Stop being placating, you could have and I would be friendless and alone!”
“Well as long as we are making this about you, how was your trip?” I use her dramatics as an opportunity to change the subject.
“Eh, not really worth the money. It was all goofy family reunion stuff, a bunch of my redneck cousins wearing camo, asking me why I want to live around so many Yankees in New York City.” She rolls her eyes and makes her way past the doorway, plopping on the floor of my room.
“What are we watching tonight? Pretty Woman? Jersey Girl? Or another equally anti-feminist Cinderella story?”
I laugh and roll my eyes. You have to love a girl who recognizes the hypocrisy and goes full steam ahead anyway!
“I was thinking more along the lines of Die Hard, or Lethal Weapon. Ya know, something that requires zero thought process.” Alex smiles and pushes to her feet to change out the movies.
It’s a gift to have a friendship that is uncomplicated and easy. Alex understands me.
When everything went down last year, 18 months ago, she helped me cling to my sanity and I will always love her for that. She never threw my crazy in my face and most of all she never judged me. I couldn’t have invented a better friend if I tried. That’s what history with someone does, it makes them more than a friend. Alex is my sister.
“Hey!” I called from my room. “What’s taking so long? If you don’t hurry I’ll be forced to come out in these disgusting pajamas and risk my health for that movie!”
No answer.
“Seriously, what’s the hold-up Alex?” I start to slowly move my legs off the side of the bed and stand, letting myself acclimate to the position. Pain is an immediate reminder of how bruised and inflamed my limbs and head are. I want to sit back down, but an uneasy feeling is growing.Why isn’t she answering me?
Of course I’m being paranoid, overreacting because of what I’ve been through, whatever that is… I still don’t remember. As for Alex, it’s not as if she’s fallen and hit her head on the other side of the door, although the thought forces me to move forward. This mugging has affected me more than I realize.
When I reach the door, I grab the handle just as it begins to turn with force. Startled, I jump back, and pain grips my body. “Aaaaahh!!”
“What the hell, Mia! Get back in bed.” Alex looks at me like I’m nuts. “Why are you up? The doctor said to stay off your feet for a few days.”
“I know, but I got freaked when you didn’t answer. I was calling and you didn’t say anything.” I try to hide my shaking hands, but know Alex can see through me.
