My belly twisted at his description. Even though I had no memory of it, I still felt for that girl. “Water in my lungs?” I asked.
Dr. Beck nodded. “You were found in the lake. Nearly washed up on shore. You were lucky he was there to find you. That side of the lake is much less populated.”
I grasped at the information like a carrot dangling before a rabbit. “Why was I in the water?” I wondered, trying to clench onto more detail.
“We don’t know. What little clothing you had on was ripped and bloody. It was clear you were in some sort of accident.”
“No one saw anything? Reported something?”
His face darkened. “No.”
“How is that even possible?”
“You suffered a severe concussion and had twelve stitches in the back of your head.”
Immediately, I reached around, my fingers probing into the thick strands of hair as I explored, feeling for the stitches.
“They aren’t there anymore. They were removed about a week after. The wound is healed, but you probably feel a raised area forming into a scar.”
Just as he said it, my fingers slid over a long bump. It was smooth and raised. I hadn’t even known it was there.
“What else?” I asked, folding my hands in my lap. I ignored the fact my fingers were shaking.
“There were several lacerations on your body. Most of them appeared to be from rocks in the lake. You had an infection in a cut on the bottom of your foot, one that didn’t appear as fresh as the others. You also contracted pneumonia.”
I didn’t know what to say. It was like he was reading off someone else’s chart. Why did I feel so detached? “Is that all?” I asked, wanting to know all of it.
“Your body was badly bruised and…” He paused, hesitating.
“I want to know. I have a right to know,” I said, firm.
“You have some scarring on your body. On your back and legs, some on your chest. The kind of scars that are consistent with regular abuse.” My stomach dropped, and he cleared his throat. “You were also very malnourished and dehydrated.”
I took a moment, focusing on my breathing. I admit it was a technique the head shrinker mentioned when I met with her that morning. When things get hard or seem impossible, take a deep breath.
“And now?” My voice was shaky.
He smiled as if he were relieved to say something positive. “Clean bill of health. Your body healed very well while you were in the coma. I don’t see anything to indicate you won’t make a full physical recovery.”
“And my memory?” I pushed.
He sighed. “The brain is a very complex thing. There is still so much we don’t know. The data on patients with fugue amnesia states that your memory could come rushing back all at once or piece by piece over time. There is also a chance you may not ever remember everything, more specifically, whatever it is that traumatized you.”
I wouldn’t ever know if I remembered everything. I would always wonder. Always in the back of my head would be the thought, What did I permanently forget?
“Where is my family?” I asked abruptly.
“I think you should get some rest, take things slow.” He stood from the rolling stool.
“I want to know,” I intoned.
“We haven’t been able to find your family. No one has come forward to say they know you.”
Tears sprang to my eyes. “What?”
“I know this must be very hard—”
I cut him off, slicing my hand through the air in front of me. “You don’t know,” I growled. “How could you possibly?”
“You’re right.” His voice was contrite. “I couldn’t.”
“Not one person in nearly three months has come looking for me? No one?”
His eyes slid toward the floor. He didn’t want me to see the pity they held. “The police are still working on it. They haven’t given up.”
Had I been a horrible person? Was that why no one came for me? Was everyone glad to see me go?
“I don’t understand.” I sank back against the pillows, defeated.
“Get some rest,” Dr. Beck said gently. “I’ll ask Dr. Kline to stop by before she leaves for the day.”
I turned away, looking at the blank wall. Another visit from the shrink. Should I be glad someone wanted to see me?
“Not one person,” I murmured, kind of shell-shocked. A real sting of pain sliced through my middle. It was the first intense feeling I’d had. I felt abandoned and not as strong as I’d convinced myself I was.
I had no one. No name, no thoughts, no people.
“There is someone,” the doctor said, almost as if he knew he shouldn’t, but couldn’t help himself.
I turned to look at him. “Who?”
“The man who pulled you out of the lake. He comes every day to see you. He sat by your bed when you were in your coma. Sometimes he read to you.”
“He knows me?” Hope bloomed.
“No. He just…” The doctor’s words fell away. I could practically hear him picking and choosing his words. What was he not saying? Who was this man who sat by a stranger’s bedside on a daily basis?
“He came every day?” I asked, wanting to actually be sure.
“Every single day. We wouldn’t let him in here at first, so he sat in the waiting room.”
“Why?” I questioned, so incredibly curious.
“Because he’s the one who pulled you out of the lake.” The doctor opened the door, ready to leave.
“He didn’t come today.” I hurried to call out. “Or yesterday.”
The doctor glanced around, half out of the room. “He was here. He’s here now.”
Fear shot through me. How quickly the curiosity turned to something more sinister. Why would he come here every single day? He claimed to not even know me.
But he still came.
“I want to see him,” I announced.
My words were met with a swift shake of the head. “It’s best you wait.”
“Wait for what? Memories that might be gone forever?”
“Until you’ve had time to process everything I just told you.” He paused. “Perhaps tomorrow.” With those words, he shut the door behind him, leaving me alone.
I was tired of being alone. Apparently, I’d been this way for months… And before that? Well, the picture Dr. Beck painted wasn’t exactly of some idyllic life.
He’d asked me about the future, if I thought about it. I hadn’t, but I was now. I didn’t have the past, but I was damn sure going to have a future. The silence in my head was going to be replaced with thoughts, faces… knowledge.
Starting with the man who came every day but didn’t know me.
Gripping the covers on the bed, I threw them back, revealing my pasty, thin legs. My body was wobbly and weak when I stood, but I did it anyway. I was getting stronger. I’d walked more today than yesterday.
If the staff wouldn’t bring this mystery man to me, then I was going to have to find him.
I was being kept away again. Mary Beth met me practically at the elevator; she knew I’d be coming. I recognized the look on her face the minute I saw her.
“Hell no,” I snapped and tried to move around her.
“Eddie, you can’t go in there,” she said, following closely behind.