“I hope so,” the driver said. “I think so. They’ll be able to fix you.”
I looked out the window. I didn’t know what else to say. I didn’t think it had been a mistake—that she’d said fix you instead of fix us. I wonder what she’s forgotten. How she knows that it’s too much. Will I know when it’s suddenly too much for me? If I—if I forget you, will I know I have?
The One Who Gathers
IT WAS SUDDENLY QUIETER WHEN THE BASEMENT DOORS slammed shut, but the darkness was the same. It smelled of vomit—then the amnesiac realized it was his own. “Gajarajan,” he moaned again. He was still clutching the bag.
He was guided to the floor. One of their first-aid kits popped open, and pills were pushed into his hands. “For the pain, swallow these,” Dr. Avanthikar said from somewhere just above. Someone padded his wound with cotton squares and wrapped a wide roll of fabric around his head to keep them in place. The pressure helped, slightly.
“Never again. There always has to be a shadow in the group,” Marie said. “If something had happened to him and then to you—”
“It had to be me,” Dr. Avanthikar returned. “You know it.”
The amnesiac touched the gauze band around his face softly. It was already wet, soaked through with blood. Maybe something else—whatever soft, liquid mirror was inside an eye. He swallowed the pills and rocked as he tried to wait for the fiery, searing edge of the agony to slide from murderous to simply angry. There was no point in hoping it might get better. Not a chance. When it healed, he was going to be blind.
“What are we going to do?” he heard Buddy whimper. “What are we going to do? What are we going to do?”
“It’s okay,” the amnesiac managed. Everything felt so tight, like whatever was left of his remaining eye had swollen to a size that was crushing everything else in his skull. “I can still remember everything for us. I just can’t see.”
Marie burst out crying at that.
“Please,” he begged. “Please, I can feel the sound, it’s pounding.” His hands clawed uselessly, unable to reach into his brain, covering his ears. “I can feel it inside my head . . .”
“We need a tranquilizer,” Dr. Avanthikar said, putting her hands over his own to help drown out even more of the sound. Marie bravely strangled her sobs. Even through the doctor’s soft, wrinkled hands, he heard the soft click of Marie’s dreadlocks tapping one after another on each shoulder as she shook her head back and forth, taptaptaptaptaptaptap, taptaptaptaptaptap. She doesn’t remember how to read, the amnesiac wanted to explain, but he just moaned.
“I’ll do it, I can do it,” Downtown said from somewhere deeper in the basement. Boxes shifted, glass vials clinked against each other.
“Are they okay?” the amnesiac begged the dark air, prying his palms away from his ears to touch the leather bag. “The book, the files?”
Dr. Avanthikar’s bony hands pushed his fingers gently out of the way. The bag’s zipper hissed. “Everything’s okay,” she said after a moment. He could feel her pulling files out one by one. “Some of the folder covers are a little wet, but all the papers inside are fine. Buddy, you lay these out in the back, on top of all the food boxes, so they dry.”
“My book—” The amnesiac panicked, hearing all the files rustle up and away.
“It’s here,” Dr. Avanthikar said, and laid the heavy binder in his lap. He clutched it to his chest. Dr. Avanthikar touched the cover gently between his forearms. “I never thought I’d see this again,” she said.
“I added—I researched as much as I could before we lost the internet here. Then I stole encyclopedias from the school nearby. I added as much as I could.”
“Tell the story of Chhaya again,” Buddy whispered, now back in front of the amnesiac, his voice low, as if he’d squatted down to the same height so he could see the cover of the binder where the elephant’s face was.
“Buddy—” Dr. Avanthikar began.
“Please,” he protested. “He always does it when I’m afraid.”
“It’s okay.” The amnesiac grimaced. His hands scrambled weakly at the pages, turning them to the right place. He didn’t need to see to know where the page he sought was. He knew them all so well he could do it by memory alone.
“Just until Downtown finds the medicine,” Dr. Avanthikar said to him.