Jacob brushed my cheek, wiping away a tear that I hadn’t realized I’d shed. I turned away from his touch. This wasn’t right. I couldn’t put my finger on my reasoning, but deep down I didn’t believe I was someone who cried or allowed others to control my every move. Jacob pulled my chin back toward him. I waited for his words of support and encouragement. They didn’t come. Instead he simply demanded, “Open your mouth.”
The bristling of my spine told me to fight, but if I did, I wouldn’t get the moisture my body craved. After only a moment’s hesitation, I did as he instructed. My reward for obeying came in the form of a tiny sliver of ice. It wasn’t much, but the cold moisture felt like rain on the dry cracked earth. Closing my lips, I savored the clean, fresh goodness sliding down my throat.
“Again.”
I did as he said, wanting more: more ice, more water, more of his deep voice. I was tired of the silence, and judging by Jacob’s earlier pacing, he had things he wanted to say. I waited, but other than the sound of his directives, the stillness lingered. Over and over, I opened my mouth, and each time he fed me chips of ice. Soon we fell into a rhythm, and even his directives disappeared. Each time, I’d swallow and then immediately open my lips, unashamedly greedy for the next piece of heavenly coolness. As my throat numbed, I wondered if I’d ever enjoyed frozen water as much as I did at this moment. My new obsession with devouring the entire cup superseded my wish to hear him speak. My concerns temporarily disappeared into a calming fog as his fingers brushed my lips and I contentedly took what he gave.
Suddenly the door opened and our forged connection shattered. I quickly closed my mouth as Jacob’s chair moved. In those few seconds, my heart skipped a beat, and I feared the sound of Brother Timothy’s voice. Instead I heard Jacob speak to the nurse, calling her by name, Sister Raquel.
As they discussed my medications and she tugged on my IV, I tried to recall all the things I’d wanted to say. I wanted to tell Jacob that I didn’t remember the accident, the Commission, The Light, or even him. I wanted answers, to know more about us, who we were, and why we’d come to be somewhere that felt so wrong.
My questions were on the tip of my tongue, yet I couldn’t ask them. It wasn’t only because he’d told me not to talk; it was as if their urgency was fading. It took all my might to hold on to them. Fatigue hit me like a freight train, causing Jacob’s and Sister Raquel’s words to slur and my limbs to grow increasingly heavy. In no time at all, my tiny, unfamiliar world floated away.
As I woke slowly from a deep sleep, my mind lingered in that space where the world was both a dream and a reality. It wasn’t until I tried to open my eyes and found only darkness that everything came rushing back. Everything . . . that word normally encompassed so much. But now, to me, it meant only recalling what had happened the day before.
My name is Sara. My husband’s name is Jacob. According to him, our last name is Adams. I’ve been in an accident and am in a hospital.
No matter how I tried, I couldn’t remember anything before the previous day. Have I blocked it all out? Why? And why do my recent memories seem wrong, like they belong to someone else?
I lay still and a smile graced my lips as I recalled the previous night’s ice chips. I couldn’t recall Jacob, yet his protectiveness filled me with an unfamiliar sense of warmth. Then the sound of the door brushing over the tile brought me back to the present.
“Brother Jacob?” a female voice whispered.
I waited, wondering if it was a nurse who was speaking. A few seconds later, when the woman repeated Jacob’s name, the chair moved against the floor and my bed creaked. Jacob must have been sleeping with his head on the mattress.
“Sister Lilith, why are you here?”
Lilith? The name sounded familiar to me.
“The Assembly will convene soon. I was sent to stay with Sara.”
“Why?”
“You’ve been summoned.”
“Summoned now? Surely they understand I need to stay here.”
Summoned? That sounded so ominous.
“I’m sure they’ll discuss it with you. Each one of us has a job that must be completed. If one person doesn’t fulfill their assignment, it affects the entire community. Not only has Sara’s job gone undone for the last week, but so has yours. I’m sure you can guess whose job the Commission views as the most crucial. It was one thing while she lay unconscious, but now she’s—”
“Now she’s injured, unable to speak or get up. Dr. Newton hasn’t been in since she woke. Instead her energy was used up on your husband’s visit.”
Husband? That was why her name sounded familiar—Brother Timothy had mentioned Lilith when he was here . . . had it been the day before? She must’ve been in that crowd of people.