Nameless

by Marni MacRae

  Now, as Nick walks to my bedside, I take a long look and study him. Admiring his tall frame, broad shoulders and strong hands that hold the gift Laurel had mentioned. A small brown stuffed bear holding a shiny, silver balloon that floats up like a cloud above Nick’s head. Written on the balloon in dark blue script are the words “Get well soon.” His eyes meet mine, and in them, I can see worry, a hesitancy, and something deeper. Caution.

  I put that there. I sent him away, pushed him away. He finds a broken girl in the road and helps her, and I didn’t have the strength of character to appreciate what he was offering.

  I blame the situation, not sure if I could have changed things even if I had known four hours ago just how much he would affect me. How much I would regret asking him to leave. When you wake up in a field not knowing who you are, things are a bit crazy.

  Even though I know I am nowhere near being out of the woods yet, I don’t want to lose his friendship. After talking and visiting with Laurel, I realize just how far friendship goes toward healing.

  “Hi.” I smile, trying to apologize silently for earlier. “I’m so glad you came back.”

  The worry lifts from his eyes at my greeting, and he smiles back at me. “I was going to come earlier but had some things to take care of. How are you feeling?” Nick rounds the bed and sits in the chair Laurel vacated only moments ago.

  “I think I am feeling okay. Laurel says my numbers look good,” I gesture to the machines behind me. “And I had something to eat.” I lean forward, resting my hands in my lap and turn my body toward Nick, crossing my legs beneath the blankets.

  “I want to thank you.” The words rush out before I realized I was going to say them, but I forge ahead, knowing I won’t feel at ease until I do. “You helped me. Saved me really, and you were nothing but kind and patient. I don’t know why I asked you to go. After you left I felt…alone. Empty. I realized you were the only person I knew. I felt bad, feel bad, about pushing you away. I’m glad it didn’t work.”

  “Eve.” The sound of my name on his lips sends a ringing in my ears and blood rushing to my cheeks. Not my name. The name he gave me. Like a christening, wiping me clean, starting fresh. I clasp my hands in my lap, squeezing them together to keep from crying. I don’t know why I feel like this when he calls me Eve, but it makes me ridiculously happy.

  “I didn’t leave because you sent me away.” Nick smiles gently and reaches a hand out to cover my clasped ones. “I left to retrace your steps before the rain washed the tracks away. I would have waited in the lobby until Doc said I could visit. I’m stubborn like that. But I would have respected your request and given you space. I’m sure you realize your lack of memory puts a lot of questions out there. Not just for you, but for us.”

  “Questions?” I turn my hand in his, unclenching my grasp on myself and wrap my fingers around his large, warm palm. The contact grounds me and makes me feel stronger.

  “You went to look where I came from, didn’t you?” I realize what he has just said. He retraced my steps. “What did you find?”

  I am suddenly electric with fear and hope. Something in me whispers to leave it alone, to move forward and forget. But there is a larger part of me that wants answers, hopes to find my identity, and fix the broken parts of me.

  “Yes, questions. We need to know whether you were with someone else. If your memory loss is due to injury, was it inflicted by another person, or by an accident? If there was an accident, we need to find the scene and make sure no one else is injured.”

  Nick’s eyes search mine.

  “I came back tonight to see if you can give us any clues, a direction to look. Doc said to wait till morning, but we need to start a search now in case someone needs our help out there.”

  I take a moment to process what he is saying. I can’t believe it didn’t occur to me that someone else might be hurt. I feel a bit of panic trickle down my spine at the thought of some person, perhaps someone dear to me, trapped or suffering out there while I am sitting here eating Jell-O and forgetting they exist.

  “Oh, my God.” It comes out on a breath, and I pull my hand from Nick’s, covering my face, trying to squeeze out any memory at all. “I didn’t think, I didn’t even consider someone else. What did you find?” I ask the question again, looking back to Nick and grasping the blanket in my lap. Please let no one be out there in this rain, cold and injured. I send the prayer skyward and look to Nick for answers.

  “Nothing. We found nothing, Eve.” Nick sighs and leans back in the chair, still holding the little bear and shiny balloon. “We traced your steps back to Jenson’s field to a spot where I think you woke up. The trail ended there.”

  “Who is we?”

  “My brother, Leland, works for the Brighton Valley Police Department. He’s gathering some officers now to extend the search. Look for a vehicle that may have gone off the road. Search any calls that may have come in from the neighboring counties. We think you may have come out of state land south of Jenson’s field, but that is a big stretch of acreage, and it’s dark and raining. We can’t be sure we’ll find anything.”

  “I’m so sorry, Nick, I didn’t even stop to think…”

  “Eve, you’re not to blame here.” Nick sets the little bear on the table beside the bed and rises to stand beside me. “Look, you’re a victim in this, whether of an accident, or an attack. You can’t expect to think of everything when you don’t even know your own name.”

  “Or Jell-O.”

  Nick tilts his head and lowers himself to sit beside me on the bed, facing me. “Jell-O?”

  “Yes. I’ll tell you about it later,” I say distractedly. I can’t shake the feeling of guilt that goes hand in hand with never having any answers. I look up and study Nick’s features, hoping to not find blame or pity there. I’m warmed by his closeness. I can see he had a shower and shaved, changed into dry clothing. I realize for the first time he isn’t wearing the cap from earlier. His hair is so dark it’s almost black and curls slightly around his ears and neckline.

  “How can I help?” I ask softly. “What can I do to help you? I don’t know what direction to point you in.”

  “Lee is sending someone over. Officer Hansette. He’ll ask you some questions, and hopefully, you might jog free a memory. If not, perhaps you have clues you don’t know you had. I need to ask your permission to speak to your doctor. Your injuries may be a clue as well.”

  “Of course. I haven’t even really spoken to him, but I will give you permission to ask whatever you need.”

  “Thanks, Eve. I know you are in the middle of a crazy situation and have a huge amount of stress to deal with. I appreciate your help and for letting me pester you.”

  “You’re not a bother, Nick. I—hope…”

  I don’t know how to say I need him. I can’t find the words to admit that doing it alone, being alone in the world, terrifies me. The last few hours have made me realize that no amount of strength I could summon will make this journey easier. Having no one to talk to, to help me find answers will only make things more difficult, and I regret ever believing that I was better off without him. “I hope we can be friends.”

  I clamp down on the threatening tears and wheeling emotions. Get a grip, Eve. Even the thought of my name calms me, and I give Nick a shrug and a small grin. “You’re the only person in the world I know.”

  “What am I, sweetie, chopped liver?”

  Laurel breezes into the room followed by Dr. Eston, and Nick slides off the edge of my bed to stand beside me. Laurel reaches my bedside and checks the monitors attached to my tethers. Leaning over me to supposedly check my arm cuff, she mouths he’s hot! And jerks her head toward Nick, waggling her eyebrows. I chuckle, realizing Laurel is right. She’s not chopped liver, she is a friend.

  “Well, young lady, how are we feeling?” Dr. Eston replaces Laurel at my bedside and sets his chart at the foot of the bed.

  “The same I guess.” I look at Laurel who stands behind the doctor close to the d
oor. She gives me a nod and an encouraging smile.

  “I had some food, and Laurel helped me remember a few things.”

  “Really?” Doctor Eston and Nick both ask at the same time.

  Nick turns to me, his expression excited, reaching out to take my hand in his. It seems he looks for contact with me as much as I do with him. I give his hand a squeeze and smile. “Yes. Really.”

  Dr. Eston turns to Nick and nods, “Nick, my boy, how are you?”

  “Good, Doc, how’s the golf game?”

  “Still better than yours, son.” Dr. Eston looks at me and then back at Nick. “I’m afraid visiting hours are over, Nick.”

  He says it kindly.

  “I need to talk to Miss Eve, and I’m afraid patient confidentiality puts a hitch in your being here for that.”

  “Oh, no.” I tighten my grip on Nick’s hand and turn to the doctor. “Dr. Eston, I want Nick to stay. Can I give my permission for him to be present?”

  Dr. Eston pulls a wheeled stool from against the wall over to my bedside and settles onto it.

  “Eve.”

  I love him already for using my chosen name rather than skirting around it.

  “You don’t really have full capability to make informed decisions. Now, I’ve known Nick here all his life and watched him grow into a fine man. A man who still struggles to swing a golf club,” he looks over the rim of his glasses at Nick and I hear Nick chuckle beside me, “but a fine man despite his challenges. If you want him here, know that normally only immediate family is privy to doctor-patient conversations.”

  “I understand.” I look back at Nick and study his expression. He seems relaxed and ready to do whatever I decide. “I want him here more than just for moral support, doctor. We are hoping you can help with questions about my situation. We think there is a possibility someone else might be hurt out there. The police are doing a search now but, well…” I trail off not knowing what else to say. Hoping the doctor won’t refuse my request.

  In all honesty, I know I want Nick beside me because he centers me, gives me a strength and focus I don’t have on my own. I know he will think of questions I may not ask. And with the chance of someone else injured out there, I know I will be inadequate in relaying information to Nick or Officer Hansette that might help in the search.

  Doctor Eston looks up at Nick and blows out a breath. “Well, that’s another thing entirely, isn’t it.” He makes it a statement, not a question. “I assume you got Lee out there looking in this mess?”

  He gestures toward the window across the room that shows a view of blackness and rain that runs in rivulets down the pane.

  “Yes, sir. He has some officers out and will send Hansette over as soon as you’re done with your examination.” Nick nods to me and squeezes my hand. “Eve wants to help if she can. With your supervision, I would like to ask her some questions, then Hansette will take her statement of what she remembers from tonight. Aside from a possible victim out there, we need to gather any information that might help in finding out who she is. Who to contact, how to locate her family or work, anyone who can assist her in her recovery. Plus, Doc, once you release her, where is she supposed to go if we can’t discover a relative or even a friend?”

  “You make a valid point. With Miss Eve’s permission, you can stay for the exam. When I’m finished, ask your questions, get Hansette in here and back out. Then my patient needs rest, not more poking and prodding. Your brother can do his job. My job is the health of this young lady.”

  I feel championed. Caught between two men who have my best interests at heart. Nick, who is thinking long term. When I leave here, where will I go? A thought that sends chills of fear through me. And on the other side of me, my doctor who wants to heal my physical body, find answers to my memory loss, and do no harm. Do no harm. A doctor’s oath. The memory skips through and is gone as I turn to Doctor Eston.

  “He can stay,” I say it firmly. It's time I begin taking charge of my own well-being. Nick may be the only thing between me and becoming homeless and starving once Dr. Eston releases me.

  The doctor nods once and retrieves his clipboard from the foot of the bed. “All right then.”

  I glance at Laurel, and she gives me a thumbs up and a wink. Just the simple gesture of support lifts my spirits, and I turn back to the doctor, straightening my shoulders and steeling my spine.

  “What is wrong with me, Dr. Eston?”

  Chapter 8

  “Well, Eve, now is where I give a little class. Stop me at any point that confuses you or if you have a question.”

  He looks in my eyes to confirm I heard him, and I give a nod.

  “I am sure you understand by now that memory loss is termed amnesia.” Dr. Eston continues without pause for confirmation, and I realize his question is rhetorical. “There are a few forms of amnesia that can manifest in a patient and a few causes for the condition. Due to your ability to form new memories and your inability to recall your past, what you have is called retrograde amnesia. Now, what we are trying to discover is how this came about. Causes can vary from alcohol abuse to head trauma to psychological trauma. The tests we will do will help to narrow that down.”

  “Laurel said you are going to do some scans?”

  “An MRI and CAT scan. First, we will run a CAT scan. That is scheduled for early morning. It’s really like an x-ray. It will give us an idea of internal injuries and can give a picture of past injuries as well. Later in the morning, I have you scheduled for an MRI. It’s similar to the CAT scan but gives a more detailed look into you. This is where we will look for any brain swelling, tumors, or pressure inside the skull that might be causing your memory loss. It can also help us view past internal injuries, but the most important benefit is that it will give us a clear picture of what we are dealing with pertaining to the brain specifically.”

  “Do people with amnesia get better?” I know it is the hardest answer to hear, but I want to get it out there to have a working idea of what to expect going forward.

  “Yes and no. There is no cure for amnesia. There are memory strengthening techniques and therapy to help cope with the memory loss for you and your family, but no magic pill, no surgery. Some people who have suffered amnesia due to physical trauma never recover their memories due to injuries to the brain. Some physical trauma patients recover some of their memories, but not all, as swelling in the brain recedes or memory therapy helps recover pieces of the past. Some patients who experience dissociative amnesia due to psychological trauma live entirely separate lives for years and then one day recall who they were before they lost their memory. It could be that these patients simply blocked out what they could not cope with psychologically. Their minds saving themselves from the brunt of an emotional trauma. It’s possible then, that over time their subconscious dealt with the event, or cause, behind the scenes until the mind was ready to handle it.”

  “The truth is, the mind is still very mysterious even to experts in the field. We may never discover or understand the fine workings of the human mind, but we do have tools to learn to live with the events handed to us.”

  I’m not sure if this is the end of the lecture with a mini pep talk to close it up so I remain silent as I digest what Dr. Eston has said. I may never remember. I may remember tomorrow. Doesn’t seem very solid as far as hopes go.

  “What do we do next?” Nick lowers himself beside me on the side of the bed, his arm aligned with mine, transferring heat and strength through the material of my hospital gown. The use of “we” makes me feel like Nick and I are a team. I am increasingly grateful each moment that he is the one who found me in the road.

  “Now, we find out just what Eve…you,” Dr. Eston turns to me, “can remember.”

  * * *

  “Can you tell me the current year.”

  Dr. Eston begins his questions, phrasing each one as if it is a statement rather than a query. I find it non-threatening and wonder if he does it on purpose. If I had to hear a string of quest
ions that I didn’t know the answers to, I think it would make me feel pathetic. At least with his easy, friendly manner and statement-sounding questions, I can simply answer and not feel judged or inadequate.

  “Um, no, I think it might be…no. I don’t know the year.”

  “How about the month.”

  I pause and think. I decide to take a guess because I know I don’t have the answer. “March?”

  “Can you give me the day of the week.” Dr. Eston doesn’t pause after my answers, he simply makes a note on his clipboard and moves on to the next question-statement. Beside me, Nick takes my hand but remains silent.

  “No.” I realize the test is to diagnose the extent of my memory loss. To help, not to degrade. I won’t guess anymore, I will just be honest. I have a feeling all my answers will be no.

  “I am going to give you four words, please repeat them back to me. Apple. Boat. Horse. Twenty-nine.”

  “Apple, boat, horse, twenty-nine.” Ok, so maybe I can get a few, but that seemed strangely simple.

  “Tell me the twelve months in reverse.”

  “OK. Let me think a second. Um, December, November, October, September, August, July, June, May, April, March, February, January.” I turn to Nick with a huge smile, suddenly thrilled that I understood the question. “I did it, didn’t I! I got them right!”

  Nick grins down at me, and I can see true pleasure there in his soft gray eyes. “Yes, Eve, you did it perfectly.”

  I turn back to Dr. Eston who is also smiling. “Well done, Eve, but I have a few more. Are you ready to continue?”

  “Yes, go ahead.” I am bursting with confidence, eager to answer the next question.

  “What state are we in?”

  “Um, like state of consciousness, or state as in one of the fifty?”