by Andria Large
She seems to understand because she takes something out of the pocket of her white coat and hands it to him. “You’re throat is sore because of how long you were on the ventilator. It will get better, but you should try to not talk so it can heal faster.” Motioning to the five by seven board that she handed him, she continues, “That’s called a Boogie Board. It’s an LCD screen that you can write on and then erase with a touch of the button at the top.”
He plucks the small plastic pen thingy off the clip at the top and scribbles on the black face of the board. Then he presses the small button at the top. The screen flashes white then clears, his scribble gone. His eyebrows shoot up, that’s pretty impressive.
“Glad you like it,” she grins and sends him a wink. “I’m going to ask you some questions, is that okay?”
Gunnar nods.
Dr. Keller asks him all different kinds of questions. The questions about his past he can’t answer because he doesn’t remember anything about who he is or was. She asks him some questions only going back as far as from when he woke up. He remembers that the man standing next to the bed said that his name was Griffin, and said that his is Gunnar. She then asks him what objects around the room are. Some things he can name right away, others he draws a complete blank on. He knows what it is, but he can’t figure out the word for it.
“It looks like you have post-traumatic amnesia with retrograde amnesia. Your head injury likely caused the retrograde amnesia, which means you can’t remember your past. I can’t say how long it will last; it may be days, weeks, or even months. With this kind of amnesia, memories do usually return over time.”
Head injury?
Gunnar reaches up with his left hand, since it hurts to lift his right arm, and feels around his head. His hair is short and all one length. He wonders if it was always like that. He gasps when he feels the raised skin of scarred flesh under his fingertips. He finds the starting point, which is at his left temple right next to his eyebrow, and follows it as it makes a curved line along the side of his head. It stops at the base of his skull. It’s a huge fucking scar.
He hastily writes down a message and shows it to Dr. Keller and Griffin. Dr. Keller tells Griffin to ask one of the nurses at the station in the hall to get him what he wants. He gives her a curt nod and walks out of the room.
“I know this is a lot to take in, Sgt. Erikson, but you are lucky to be alive. You had a whole cinderblock wall fall on top of you, yet here you are, sitting up and talking.”
Gunnar’s heart pounds as he gapes at her. A wall fell on me? He clears his board and writes down another question then holds it up for her to read.
“What else happened to you?”
He nods jerkily, needing to know.
Griffin walks back into the room. He hands Gunnar the handheld mirror that he asked for. Taking a deep breath, he lifts the mirror up so he can look at himself. He stares in shock at the person staring back at him. He doesn’t know him. His face is thin and sickly looking with dark circles under his eyes and sunken in cheeks covered in a few days worth of stubble. He turns his head slightly to see the scar. He can hear Dr. Keller and Griffin talking quietly to each other but ignores them as he gawks at the angry looking scar.
The bed dips next to Gunnar’s thigh and a gentle hand takes the mirror from him. He’s met with sympathetic dark brown eyes. “It’s just a scar,” Griffin murmurs.
Gunnar glances around to see that Dr. Keller has left. When his gaze lands back on Griffin, his brows are furrowed in concern.
“She said that you want to know what else happened to you.”
He gives him a sharp nod and a hard look, letting him know he better tell him everything. Griffin sighs heavily and rubs the back of his neck. “Okay, here is what I know…”
Griffin tells him everything he was told about what happened, how his Army base was attacked in the middle of the night, and how he was one of only fifteen guys to make it out alive. He tells him what injuries he sustained, the head trauma being the worse. By the time he’s done, Gunnar is mentally and physically exhausted.
His body sags back and he drops his head back into the pillow. Griffin gives his thigh a reassuring squeeze. “Get some rest. I’ll be here when you wake up.”
He doesn’t even know if he nods in reply because he immediately falls asleep.
***
Since waking up from the coma one week ago, the nurses and doctors have been working hard to get Gunnar strong enough to go home to finish his recovery. Griffin says that home is in Fort Worth, Texas. He informed Gunnar that he has a house there, but when they get back, he’ll be living with him until he’s well enough to take care of himself. It’s going to take a while. Gunnar’s lost almost fifty pounds while in a coma for an entire month, and it was mostly muscle. He’s so weak at the moment that he can barely stand without help. Griffin showed him a picture of what he looked like before the attack, and holy shit he was ripped. He wants to get back to that, but it’s going to take time.
It’s been really hard for Gunnar this past week learning to trust Griffin. Right now, he’s a complete stranger, and he’s just taking his word that he’s his best friend. As far as Gunnar knows, he could be anyone, telling him anything, making up shit that’s not true. That’s extreme, he knows, but that’s just how his brain is functioning at the moment. He’s on edge, wary, and a bit paranoid. No doubt, it’s coming from something sub-conscious, something that he can’t remember that happened, making him feel this way.
“Why are you here?” Gunnar asks. The question has been burning a hole in his brain for days now and he couldn’t hold it back any longer.
Griffin, who is lounging in the chair next to the bed, cocks an eyebrow without looking up from his phone.
Ha! I remembered the name of it this time!
“What do you mean?”
“I mean why aren’t my parents or siblings here? Why are you the only one who’s here with me?”
The thick hair just under Griffin’s bottom lip sticks straight out as he rolls his lips in and closes his eyes. He sets his phone face down on his thigh and pulls in a deep breath before lifting his head to look at Gunnar. His dark eyes are somber and Gunnar knows whatever he’s about to tell him isn’t going to be something that he wants to hear.
“You don’t have any family, Gunnar. You were put up for adoption at birth and bounced around foster families until you aged out of the system. That’s when you joined the Army and met me. I know you don’t remember or feel it, but we consider each other family. You’re my brother even though we don’t share the same blood.”
As his words sink in, a dull ache blooms in Gunnar’s chest. Ouch. That hurt more that he thought it would. “Damn. That’s not what I was expectin’ to hear.”
“I know, Buddy. I’m sorry.”
“How…I mean…normally, how do I handle this information? Shit, I don’t even know how to explain…”
He pinches the bridge of his nose to try and sort through his jumbled thoughts.
“You came to terms with it a long time ago. If it still bothered you, you never told me, so I assumed you were cool with it,” Griffin says, understanding what Gunnar was asking even though he didn’t know how to ask it. He turns his gaze in Griffin’s direction. He really does know him, doesn’t he? Griffin gives him a small knowing smile. “We’ve known each other for ten years, Gunnar. It’s pretty easy for me to know what you’re thinkin’ without you sayin’ a word. Besides, your face is very expressive, always has been. The only time I’ve seen you look emotionless was when we were on the front lines. You weren’t Gunnar Erikson then, you were a killin’ machine.” The pride in his voice is obvious.
“Is this as weird for you as it is for me?” Gunnar asks, one side of his mouth tilting up.
Griffin huffs out a laugh. “Definitely, my man. It’s weird as shit not havin’ you know who the hell I am. I can only imagine how it feels for you.”
Gunnar shakes his head and drops his stare to look at his hands in his lap, whe
re he picks at one of his nails. “The hardest part is not knowin’ anythin’ about myself. I don’t know what I like, what I don’t like, what kind of clothes I wear, if I’m allergic to anythin’. I can only go off of instinct and feelings.”
“Yeah, but those instincts and feelings are the truth. That’s who you are. Whatever you’re feelin’ is who you really are. Go with it and listen to what that voice in your head tells ya because it ain’t gonna lie to ya.”
“Yeah…yeah, you’re right.”
“Don’t worry, Gunnar, you’re gonna get through this.”
Gunnar shoots him a small smile. “Thanks, Griffin.”
***
Being wheeled through an airport in a wheelchair makes Gunnar feel like a complete asshole, but he’s still too weak to walk for more than a few feet at a time. Three weeks after coming out of the coma, he’s able to go home. Dr. Keller discharged him yesterday, so they stayed in Griffin's hotel room for the night, since they had to book a flight home.
Since he doesn’t have any clothes, Griffin is letting him borrow some of his until they get back to Texas, where they’re going to stop at Gunnar’s house to grab some things he needs, like clothes and toiletries. Right now, he’s wearing a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt. He refuses to wear Griffin’s underwear, that feels a bit like crossing the line, so he's free-ballin’ it. He’s also wearing a backward plain white baseball cap that he made Griffin buy at the first shop they hit in the airport. The giant scar on his head has people turning to stare and he can’t handle all the attention.
It’s late afternoon and the airport is fairly busy. Griffin stops at a coffee shop for coffee…duh. “How do I usually take my coffee?” Gunnar asks him as he looks at the menu with all the different choices.
One side of Griffin’s mouth lifts. “Black.”
“Really? I would drink straight black coffee?” His nose scrunched up in disgust. “That doesn’t even sound good.”
“You didn’t really drink it like that because it tasted good. You did it because it had no calories.”
“Well, fuck that. I need the calories now,” Gunnar huffs. “Put some cream and sugar in that bitch.”
Griffin snickers along with the dude behind the counter, who Gunnar didn’t realize was waiting for their order. “You heard the man, a large coffee with cream and sugar in that bitch.”
The barista laughs. “You got it. Anything else?”
Griffin gives the guy his order then pays. They move down to the pick-up section to wait.
“Was I always so health conscious?”
“Not always, but you tried. You love food. I’m sure you’ll figure that out soon enough.” He chuckles.
They get their coffee then make their way toward the gate. Griffin finds them a spot close to the door to the ramp that leads to the plane, parks the wheelchair at the end of a row of chairs, then sits on the end seat next to Gunnar. He’s kind of nervous to be going home. He’s not sure what to expect. Well, other than he’s going to have a ton of physical therapy to do, per Dr. Keller.
“How’re ya feelin’?” Griffin asks quietly.
“Tired.” He sighs.
Griffin gives him an understanding nod. “Hopefully once we get you home, we can get you back up and runnin’ in no time.”
“I hope so.”
When it’s time to board, they are the first ones on. Gunnar insists on leaving the wheelchair at the base of the ramp and walks onto the plane by himself. Griffin tries to help, but Gunnar shrugs him off. He needs to do this on his own. Each step is a struggle and he hangs onto anything he can. Luckily, they’re in first class and he doesn’t have far to go. Gunnar plops down into the nice leather seat with a groan. He’s fucking short of breath from that! It’s ridiculous! He rests his head back against the seat and closes his eyes while trying to catch his breath, then feels Griffin sit down next to him.
“Ain’t nothin’ wrong with lettin’ someone help you, ya know,” he mutters softly.
“I wanted…to do it…myself…” Gunnar pants.
“You’re not ready to do shit like that on your own,” he grunts.
He opens his eyes and glares at him. “Don’t tell me what I am and am not ready to do.”
Griffin gives him a bored look that makes Gunnar want to punch him in the mouth.
“I’m serious.”
Griffin nods. “Yeah, okay.” His tone is placating which pisses him the hell off.
They stare each other down for a minute, silently daring the other to say something else. Griffin cocks an arrogant eyebrow and Gunnar just shakes his head. “You’re an asshole.”
“Is that a feelin' or a memory?” he asks, lifting an eyebrow.
Gunnar gapes at him for a second before he huffs and turns away from the infuriating man next to him to look out the window. How is this guy supposed to be his best friend? Right now, he doesn’t feel like it; it feels more like a father, treating him like a child and shit. If this is how it’s going to be living with him, he might have to figure something else out. He’s got to have other friends that could help him, right?
Still staring out the window, Gunnar asks, “Do I have any other friends besides you?” He didn’t mean for it to come out as nasty as it did, but it’s too late to take it back.
“Yeeeaaah,” Griffin drawls slowly. “Most are Army buddies that live in other states.”
“I have no other friends besides you where we live?” He turns an incredulous glare at him.
“I’m not sayin’ that you have no other friends where we live…”
“Then what’re ya sayin’?” Gunnar barks, getting irritated.
Griffin’s expression hardened. “I’m sayin’ I wouldn’t call them friends. They’re more like guys you go out and get drunk with. They don’t have your back, and I didn’t see them spending over a month and a half in Germany by your bedside hopin’ you’d wake up. They don’t give two shits about you. So no, I don’t like to use the word ‘friends’ when speakin’ about them.”
Gunnar frowns hard. “You didn’t have to come to Germany and sit by my side.”
“Yes, I did. You’re my brother. And whether you feel it or not, I still feel it, and I was not going to let you die in another country with no one by your side.”
Gunnar searches Griffin’s dark brown eyes. For what, he’s not sure. Maybe he’s just hoping to remember, to feel the love that Griffin’s talking about.
“So, are you done being a douchebag?” he snaps.
Gunnar purses his lips and nods, letting his gaze swing back toward the window. The tension between them is palpable, and he can feel the frustration, anger, and hurt rippling off Griffin in waves. Sneaking a glance over at him, Gunnar sees that Griffin’s arms are crossed over his chest and he’s practically burning a hole into the seat in front of him. His mouth is a thin angry line, and Gunnar imagines that his teeth are clenched. He can’t actually tell because his beard is so thick, making it impossible to see the outline of his jaw. Deciding to give him time to cool off, he closes his eyes to take a nap.
Chapter Three
GUNNAR SLEEPS for a good two hours, before waking up with a start. His bleary hazel eyes dart around as he seemingly tries to figure out where he is. He appears to slowly relax as his eyes become a bit clearer. Finally, he turns to look at Griffin. A sliver of hope fills him every time Gunnar wakes up, wondering if maybe this is the time he’ll wake up having regained all his memories.
“Hey,” Griffin murmurs.
“Hey,” Gunnar replies roughly. “How long was I out for?”
“Two hours.”
He nods jerkily, dropping his gaze.
“You okay?” Griffin asks softly.
He pulls in a shaky breath. “Yeah. Yeah, just a bad dream.”
“Wanna talk about it?”
“No. No, I’m fine. It’s fine,” he mutters dismissively.
“Okay.” He’s not convinced, but he leaves it for now. He doesn’t want him getting overly freaked out while t
hey’re on a plane with eight more hours to go before they land.
Griffin stops the male flight attendant as he walks by and asks for a bottle of water. As he hurries off to go get the water, Griffin turns back to Gunnar, who is stretching up to peer over the seat in front of him. What the hell is he looking at? He gets his answer when the flight attendant returns with the water. Gunnar eyes the guy up and down. Not like the look of a guys sizing another up. No, this was more of an appraisal, as if he were checking him out, which would be absurd because Gunnar is straight.
Griffin thanks the man for the water and hands it over to Gunnar, who finally tears his eyes away from the attendant to look over at him. He thanks Griffin for the water then whispers, “He’s a good looking guy.”
“What?” He sputters in utter disbelief.
Gunnar frowns at him in confusion. “What’d ya mean ‘what’?”
“You just said that the flight attendant is, and I quote, “a good looking guy.” Why would you say that?”
“Because he is?” he replies, as if Griffin just asked the stupidest question ever.
He’s at an utter loss as to what to say. After opening and closing his mouth multiple times, he just shakes it off and mutters a, “Forget it.” That was really fucking weird. Gunnar has never, and he means never ever, made a comment like that about another guy before. He’s never given Griffin any reason to think that he’s gay or into dudes in any way, shape, or form. He’s dated girls for as long as Griffin's known him. Maybe it’s the amnesia and he doesn’t remember which team he bats for and is just openly appraising everyone? Gunnar definitely would have told him if he was bi or gay. He’s got no reason to hide something like that. Convinced that he would have told him, he lets it go and chalks it up to his current frame of mind.
The rest of the flight is mostly quiet between the two of them. Normally, they would be talking non-stop, but with Gunnar not remembering anything about himself - or Griffin - it’s kind of difficult to drum up conversation…about anything.
Griffin’s excited to be going home. He misses his girl so fucking bad. He’s called, texted, and Face-timed her as much as possible while away, but it’s not the same, and he can’t wait to have her in his arms again.
