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"I...”
"You are, aren't you? That's why I felt so compelled by you; that's why you called me darling. We’re in... love.”
This was bad. The crippling sensation of nausea and anxiety almost knocked him off his feet.
"Yes,” he lied. Why, he refused to evaluate just now. “Yes, I’m your husband.”
He had no explanation for his lie. He felt ashamed, but her beautiful face stopped him from correcting himself.
"I can't remember anything. I don't know your name.”
"James Sullivan.”
Her warm, brown eyes captured the light in the room. With tenacity, she freed her hand and placed it on his cheek. One solitary tear fell down her face.
” James, I'm so sorry. Call the doctor, darling. I want to remember us.”
He nodded with agitation and went to the call panel but stopped right before pressing the button to alert the nurse.
"Do you remember your name?”
"Rita. Rita...Sullivan. I guess.”
I am... married.
The realization hit me full force. What have I done? What have I fucking done?
I found it in myself to glance at the woman on the hospital bed. She was sipping from a cup of tea, and when she felt my eyes on her, she looked up and smiled. The warmth radiating from her delicate face made my hands sweaty.
Rita.
Who is this woman?
I tried to reciprocate the smile, but I just couldn’t find the strength. I was saved by the doctor on call who walked in the room, making the door shake in its frame. A six-foot, bearded giant, looking over forty-five years old and as though he was seriously annoyed at having to work.
"You are Monica Porter?" He leafed through some charts looking for something.
"No doctor, my name is Rita Sullivan." This was the first time I noticed the subtle accent in her voice.
"Sullivan, right. They just made your admission papers. Ok, so the tests came back, and you have no anomaly in your blood. Do you wanna spend the night here or be discharged right away?" Rita shrank under his frown and looked at me for help.
You have to be kidding me. This is how they treat a disoriented patient? My wife?
"Excuse me, doctor," I put the accent on his title. "It would be nice to know your name and practice first?"
In his attempt to intimidate me, he took his glasses out of his pocket and put them on methodically.
"Doctor Richard Johansen, general."
"Aha, and are you aware that your patient has problems remembering certain details? Such as the month and year, her name, her husband…"
"Yes, it's just a short-term memory loss. Take her home, incite her memory with some pictures; it will come back."
You see, I'm a nice guy. In moments like this, I wished Zachary Ford was here. He'd have some wise words to spread around.
"What was revealed on her CT scan?"
"She was not taken for a CT."
