Amnesia

by Andrew Neiderman

  “He looked . . . crazed.”

  “Well, thisisa clinic for neurological studies, Aaron. All of the patients probably do have serious problems of one kind of another,” Megan said casually. She sat thumbing through a magazine.

  Aaron read some of the diplomas on the walls. Dr. Longstreet certainly had been around, he thought, even studying in Switzerland.

  “Hello,” she said, entering and closing the door behind her. She carried a folder in her hand and set it down on the examination table. “How are you doing, Mr. Clifford?”

  “I feel all right.”

  “Anything?” she asked, waving her hand in circles.

  “Lots of images, memories of projects, occasionally some music, colors.” He looked at Megan. “Last night I had a terrible hallucination. I saw a little girl bleeding. She was an infant, so it didn’t look like our daughter, and then I was afraid it was. Not pleasant,” he added.

  “I understand,” Dr. Longstreet said. “That image could have come from anywhere in your memory bank, maybe even from something you saw on television or in the movies, something that impressed you. We carry everything we see and hear with us to the day we die, Mr. Clifford. Most of it is well buried, never to be consciously retrieved, but as you know, psychiatry delves into the unconscious and helps us understand the nature of some of these memories and their effects on us. Right now you’re a little like a television set drawing pictures in from different networks.

  “Anyway,” she continued opening the folder. “You have no evidence of trauma to your head. You CTreveals no tumor, but you have had what we call an Ischemic CVA, a cerebrovascular accident or stroke caused by the sudden interruption of blood to the brain.”

  “How did that happen?” Aaron asked.

  “An embolism or thrombus obstructs a cerebral artery. There is also a hemorrhagic CVA when a vessel in the brain suddenly ruptures, allowing blood to permeate the brain tissue. After extensive testing, I’m convinced you have suffered an embolic CVA. Not to get too technical . . .”

  “You can get technical,” Aaron said.

  “Aaron,” Megan said softly.

  “It’s fine, Mrs. Clifford. I don’t mind. Most often the underlying cause is atrial fibrillation, an arrhythmia that allows blood to pool in the atria. When the embolus reaches a cerebral artery that’s too narrow to pass, it lodges, blocking blood flow to part of the brain.”

  “Ugh,” Megan said.

  Dr. Longstreet smiled.

  “However, your heart doesn’t show signs of any serious damage or problems.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means we have another cause, but nothing symptomatic at this time. We’ll keep you under observation. In time, as blood returns to the areas of your brain where you lost blood, I also believe memories will return.

  “However, now what we must do is make every effort to prevent it from happening again and in a bigger way. Fortunately, there is a good drug therapy forthis problem, and we’ll have you start it immediately. We’ve got to keep your blood flowing properly. As I said, we’ll monitor you frequently.

  “I’m also going to recommend you find ways to reduce as much stress in your life as you can. I want your blood pressure as close to a normal blood pressure for a man your age and size as possible.”

  “How do I do that? I don’t even know what makes me stressful,” he said.

  “Perhaps Mrs. Clifford can be of some help here,” she replied, looking at Megan.

  “Oh, sure,” Megan said, looking up quickly as if she had just been snapped out of a daydream.

  It annoyed Aaron a little. Why was she so disinterested in the details? Or was she just avoiding them, afraid to hear them?

  “In every other way you’re a relatively healthy man, Mr. Clifford.”

  “In every other way?” he muttered.

  “Yes. You will improve and you will live a good and productive life,” she predicted with such authority and confidence, Aaron couldn’t help but be confident, too.

  “I see.”

  “I want you to begin the drug therapy, the exercise program, the reduction of stress immediately, and return here in say, in a week, unless of course, you have any reason to come sooner.”

  “Okay.”

  “You’re starting a new life here in a wonderful little community. You’ve already made a very good move. You could do your best work here,” she added.

  “Maybe so,” Aaron said.

  “Any questions?”

  He looked at her and thought. “When will the strange images and thoughts stop?”

  “Not for a while,” she said, “but don’t let any of that disturb you. I’m sure they’ll always go away seconds after they occur. It’s very important that you don’t work yourself up over these things, Mr. Clifford. Stress is a insatiable monster when it comes to feeding on our health,” she added. “And that’s especially true now in your condition.”

  “I’ve told him that,” Megan said.

  “You gave him good advice.”

  “I’ll keep him too occupied with the present and the future,” Megan said.

  “Precisely,” Dr. Longstreet said, smiling. “That will help.”

  “Well, okay,” Aaron said, looking from Megan to the doctor. “I guess I’ll wait for it all to pass, then.”

  “It will,” Dr. Longstreet said. She opened the door. “The next time I see you, you’ll be a lot better,” she added and left.

  Aaron looked at Megan, who smiled and then hugged him.

  “That’s good news, Aaron. We know what you’re problem was, we’re working on keeping it from happening again, and you have a good prognosis. Be happy, honey.”

  “I’m happy,” he said, shrugging. “As happy as I can be, I guess.”

  He walked out with her. The other patient was gone from the lobby.

  “Don’t we have to pay or leave a medical card orsomething?” he asked Megan as she headed for the entrance.

  “It’ll be taken care of,” Megan said.

  “It will?”

  “Stop it, Aaron. Stop worrying about the little things. You heard the doctor.”

  “Right,” he said. “Okay.” He put up his hands as if he was surrendering, and they walked out.

  “Just breathe in that air, Aaron. Isn’t it wonderful here?” she said.

  “Yes,” he admitted. “It is.”

  She looked at him. “Where you live and work has a significant influence on your health, Aaron.”

  “All right,” he said, “ease up.” She looked troubled until he smiled at her. “I’ll think about working here as well.”

  “Oh, Aaron!” she cried. She hugged him. “I just knew you would.”

  He nodded and laughed. “You did, huh? Well, somehow, that I do believe,” he said.

  As they were getting into the car, he looked back at the clinic. There was a man talking to Dr. Longstreet in the rear parking lot. He was apparently very agitated. His hands were moving about her face, sometimes looking as if they might strike her. She stood firm, staring at him. Then the man suddenly stopped and put his hands to his side. He looked down for a moment.

  Megan started the car.

  The man looked up.

  Aaron felt himself blinking rapidly.

  I know that guy, he thought.

  I’ve seen him recently.

  Megan was talking quickly, describing all the things they had to do in the house, things they needed to buy, things they needed to arrange. She catalogued them off in rapid fire. He turned and looked back at the clinic.

  Who the hell was he?

  It wasn’t until they were nearly home that he remembered.

  It was the blond-haired man at Grand Central, the man in the gray pin-striped suit, the man who had told him to get his train ticket.

  He was sure it was that man.

  Wasn’t he?

  . . . seven

  you’re so quiet, honey,” Megan said as they pulled into their driveway. “Your heart is fine.
The doctor just wants to monitor you and be sure you don’t have any reoccurrences and she’s predicting a good recovery. Aren’t you feeling a little relieved?”He debated whether or not he should tell her about the man he saw with Dr. Longstreet. Was it another hallucination? How could he trust his senses, his vision, the very mechanics of his mind at the moment? He knew she would tell him he was either mistaken or imagined it, and then she would remind him of Dr. Longstreet’s assurance that these things wouldn’t last. Most of all, he shouldn’t pay attention to them.

  Even if the man he saw was the same man who had helped him in Grand Central, so what? People see each other again coincidentally. Was paranoia another consequence of his condition? He was determined to fight it back. He was determined to be happy.

  “Yes,” he told Megan, “I am feeling relieved. Matterof fact,” he said, slapping his hands together, “I think we should get on with this new start. Let’s go look at the property you think would serve as offices for me. Let’s do it today,” he said after they pulled into their driveway.

  Megan’s smile exploded like fireworks, filling the air with brightness and light and making him laugh. She threw her arms around him and hugged him. After she kissed him, she looked pensive.

  “I’ve got something to confess,” she said. “It might sound terrible to you, but I like you so much more since your problem started, Aaron. Whatever happened to you changed you for the better in so many ways.”

  “Oh?”

  “I can see it even in the way you look and talk to Sophie. You’re suddenly more of a father, Aaron. And I’ve already told you what a better lover you are.”

  “I really must have been distracted by my work, huh?”

  “Absorbed to the point of neglecting those who love you. Like so many men these days, you were taking a lot for granted. I just know that’s not going to happen again. Alarms have been rung and we’re paying attention. We’re finally a family.”

  He grimaced.

  “Funny thing to say considering what’s happened to me, Megan. You are making me think you’re happy I had the strokes.”

  “What doesn’t destroy you makes you stronger, Aaron. You’ve heard that famous quote before, only the stronger this time means stronger as a father and husband,” she told him.

  He nodded. “I’ve got to take your word for it,” he said.

  “Why shouldn’t you?” she snapped back.

  He looked at her and then he smiled.

  “No reason not to. You’re right. Maybe I shouldn’t fight so hard to regain my old self.”

  Her eyes warmed again.

  “I love you, Aaron, for who you are to me now and forever, not who you’ve been.”

  He smiled. “I must admit you make me feel good about something that should be devastating, Megan.”

  “That’s what a good wife does. Okay. I have to call Mrs. Masters and then we’re off to look at your new office space,” she declared and stepped out of the car. He followed her into the house, and while she called, he went to the master bedroom bathroom to freshen up.

  When he looked at himself in the mirror, he pondered every detail of his face. Was that a tiny scar just above his right eye? He touched it and focused on it as hard as he could. Suddenly he grimaced and jerked his head to the right, instinctively reliving an accident. Something sharp had struck his head. Where had he been? How old was he? There was terrible pain when it happened. He experienced it enough now to grimace and suck in his breath. He felt his whole body shake so hard, his back muscles wrenched and his neck snapped back. His face was red from the déjà vu. When he looked down at his hands, they were wet with blood and there was blood in his lap, blood on his shirt.

  He had no idea that he was actually shouting until he heard Megan in the bathroom doorway.

  “What is it, Aaron?”

  His eyes refocused and she came into view.

  “I . . . ” He held up his hands.

  “What, Aaron? So?”

  He turned his palms to him and saw they were clean.

  “There was blood,” he muttered. “Everywhere.” He looked in the mirror and touched the tiny scar. “I guess I just had a vivid memory of this,” he said.

  “What kind of memory?”

  “I don’t know. It was something very violent, and there was so much blood.”

  She came closer and touched the scar. She shook her head.

  “That has nothing to do with your problem now, Aaron. You did that when you were seven years old. You told me about it. You were running with some friends in the basement of your aunt’s house, and you hit your head against the wall. There was some metal in the cement, rusty metal. You had to have a tetanus shot, and your aunt was so angry that you were playing in her basement and got hurt that she wouldn’t let you have friends over or go to their houses for nearly a year. Does any of that help you remember?”

  He shook his head.

  “It seemed different when I recalled it just now. It seemed like something else.”

  “That was it,” she said sternly. “And anyway, you’re doing it again, Aaron. What’s the point of going to one of the country’s most renown neurologists if you won’t listen to her orders? Remember what she said: Don’t dote on the images. Let them come and go andbury them. Concentrate on the here and now. I thought you said that’s just what you would do.”

  “It was so shocking for a few moments, Megan. It’s not as easy as you think.”

  “Well, it’s over,” she said. “Put it aside. Are you ready to go look at the property?”

  “What? Oh, yeah,” he said. He glanced at himself in the mirror one more time, and then he followed her out to the car.

  “Mrs. Masters is very happy for you, Aaron, very happy for us. She is going to serve champagne before dinner at her dinner party to toast your good prognosis. And when I told her of your decision to set yourself up here, she was even more pleased. She says she has at least a half a dozen significant clients for you in the wings.”

  “How did she know I would decide to do it?” he asked.

  “She didn’t know for sure. She just mentioned the possibility to them,” Megan explained. She turned to him and smiled. “You sound a little testy about it, Aaron. Why question good things? What’s that saying about looking a gift horse in the mouth?”

  “Don’t,” he replied.

  “Exactly, don’t.”

  “Do I really sound testy?” he replied. “I don’t mean to,” he said, but that wasn’t true.

  I’m lying, he realized. Some instinct is taking control and setting up a defense. Why?

  “I guess it’s nothing,” she said after a moment. “You’re not yourself yet. It’s not fair to criticize anything you say or do,” she declared.

  She glanced at him and then looked at the road. Her eyebrows were still hoisted. She was very pensive, concerned.

  What is it? he wondered. What else is happening here? Megan knows something else about me, something she hasn’t figured out how to tell me yet, he thought.

  It’s a worry, a terrible worry.

  And the doctor had warned him sternly about that.

  I’d better stop, he told himself, and concentrate on the here and now. That became his new mantra.

  Gloria Bell, the real estate rental agent, had taken them to the office space and then been beeped on her pager. She left them and said she would return in fifteen minutes.“Rent’s relatively cheap for this much space,” Aaron commented after he had walked through the vacant offices. There were two small offices, a large room where he could work, and even a lobby. All the walls had a light maple paneling and the floors had relatively new gray carpeting. There were many good-size windows for natural lighting, and four phone lines already set up. “You couldn’t get a closet for this kind of money in Manhattan.”

  “This isn’t Manhattan,” Megan said. “The location is great, too, isn’t it?” she asked.

  They both gazed out of the front window at the side street. “Plenty of parking
, walking distance from the downtown area,” she continued.

  “Downtown area?” he asked with a laugh. “What do we have, three restaurants, a couple of drugstores, adepartment store, a few supermarkets, movie theaters, bowling alley, and what, a half dozen bars?”

  He was amazed at how well he had rattled all that off. How had he committed that much detail to memory after only his short visit? However, Megan didn’t seem overly impressed.

  “It’s downtown enough for what we need, Aaron. You’re not going to start on the values of cosmopolitan life as opposed to small-town provincialism, are you?” Before he could reply, she added, “You haven’t seen the school. All the classes are small enough for students to get individualized instruction. The building is in very good shape, and there is new equipment, computers, everything. It’s practically a little private school. We’ve got to think of Sophie’s welfare, too.”

  He nodded and continued to gaze out one of the windows facing front. She came up beside him and threaded her arm around his right arm, putting her head on his shoulder.

  “Don’t you feel even a little lucky?” she asked in a whisper. “Don’t you even stop, take a good look at all this, and feel fortunate, Aaron?”

  He turned and gazed at her. She wasn’t being critical as much as she was trying to understand him, he thought. Now she looked more like Dr. Longstreet, scrutinizing him.

  “Feel fortunate? After what’s happened to me?”

  “You’ll get better, Aaron,” she said sharply. Her eyes looked hot, angry. “Think of what we’ll have now, what life will be like for all of us,” she said, her tone more chastising, angry.

  “Yeah, I guess I should feel lucky about that.You’re right. I’m sorry. Every once in a while I get seized by this self-pity. I suppose I’ll learn how to shake it off.”

  “Don’t worry,” she said, changing into her seductive demeanor instantly, “I’ll help.”

  She kissed him on the neck. He laughed and she kissed him again, pressing herself against him so hard that he fell back against the wall.

  “Hey, that’s a little more help than I expected.”

  “You never get enough of this kind of help, Aaron,” she said, lowering herself down his body and unbuttoning his pants.