AllFreeNovel
Share Us
John answers with a glare, gets back into bed, and turns his back on me. I turn to Delia.
“Thank you for taking care of him,” I tell her. “Just make sure he gets his rest, continues to take his antibiotics and sticks to the diet I’ve prescribed. I’ll check on him again in two days. He should be back in the pink of health by then.”
She gives me a warm smile. “Thank you, Antonio. You’ve truly grown into a fine man and a fine doctor. I’m sure Mitch and Abby are both proud of you, wherever they may be now.”
I nod and walk towards the door but Delia grabs my arm.
“It’s a shame you never found out who your real parents are, but Summerset is lucky to have you.”
I pause. I know it’s what many people in this town think. They all know my story. They just don’t say it to my face. Maybe it’s because they don’t want to sound selfish or maybe they just don’t have the courage to be honest. I guess Delia is the exception.
“Thank you,” I tell her. “I feel lucky to be here, too.”
She lets my arm go as she broadens her smile, showing me her missing front teeth. I leave the room. As soon as I close the door behind me, I hear bickering. So much for letting my patient rest. I ignore it and make my way downstairs. With each step, Delia’s words weigh on my mind.
It really is a shame I haven’t been able to find out who I am. I did try. In between studying, I combed through newspaper clippings and websites, trying to gather details about the fire where I supposedly lost my memories. After all, don’t explosions and fires usually make the news? But I found nothing. Not a single photo or article about it. Even the police didn’t seem to know anything. Mitch took me to the next town to ask for the help of his friend, a sergeant, but he couldn’t pull up any information either. Mitch went to the nearby hospitals, too, to look for the woman who brought me to Summerset and to inquire if there were any other burn victims at that time, but that also yielded no results. It was almost as if the fire never happened.
Desperate, I patiently scoured social media for the profiles of people named Antonio – hundreds, since I didn’t have a last name. None of them seemed remotely like me.
Finally, Mitch suggested I go through therapy. I went. I saw a cognitive specialist five times. Each time, she tried something else. Nothing worked. Every time I felt like I was on the brink of remembering something, I’d just stumble back. It’s like reaching for something on a top shelf. Just when you’re about to reach it, the ladder you’re perched on disappears and you fall.
I felt trapped in a maze. No matter which route I took, I just kept running into one dead end after another. So I stopped. I told Mitch and Abby not to waste any more time and money. I told them I’d just wait for my memories to return.
They haven’t. Sometimes, I get flashbacks and vivid dreams, pieces of the puzzle I once was. I write them down as soon as I can and try to make sense of them, but I can’t. All I can come up with are theories with no way to confirm them.
It is a shame.
Yet I taught myself to look on the bright side, to be grateful for my new home and family, to make the most of the new opportunities I’d been given. I made friends. I treated Mitch and Abby like my own parents. I studied and became a doctor. I’ve made a place for myself here in Summerset. I finally feel like I belong here.
Or so I thought. But there’s an uneasiness inside me that won’t go away. There’s a hole in my chest that won’t be filled. There’s a voice in my head saying I don’t belong anywhere and never will. And since yesterday, since Triss arrived, it’s grown louder. Is it because her presence, her circumstances remind me of how I used to be?
My leg collides with the back of the couch, bringing my thoughts to an end. I rub it as I make my way to the front door.
Outside, Sally seems to be having a chat with the woman who lives next door, Irene. Her husband, Dave, on the other hand, is talking to Ned, whose presence slightly puzzles me. What is he doing here again?
“Hey.” Ned waves at me and comes over. “Is John alright?”
“He’s getting better,” I answer. “You on patrol?”
“Yup. Everything seems fine. Even Otto and his gang have been quiet for a while now.”
“That’s good.”
I can’t count the number of times I’ve treated those guys for injuries from fights and overdoses. If they’re behaving, that’s good news for me.
