She's Not Here

by Mandi Lynn

  All her charts read normal. The clipboard in his hand held nothing but results that you’d expect to see from a typical sixteen-year-old, yet the way she acted and reacted wasn’t what would be expected.

  Sam shuttered as she closed her eyes. Her lips were pressed into a firm line and tension radiated off her and across the room. She was completely still until she released herself to let out a gasp for air. Dr. Ash watched, thinking she was finally going to cry and let herself be released, but it never happened. Her eyes were dry, but her body stayed tense.

  “Dr. Ash?” A nurse peeked into the room. “You’re needed in room 304.”

  He looked from the nurse to Sam and back again. The nurse seemed to pick up on the moment and stepped farther into the room to help. Dr. Ash stood up from his chair and met her at the doorway.

  “She needs space,” he said. “I’m going to check on her in an hour or so.”

  The nurse nodded and left the room. Before Dr. Ash followed, he turned back to Sam and saw that while her body was beginning to relax, her gaze was fixed out the window. Her mind was somewhere else.

  — — — — —

  Willow was afraid to step into the room. She had nightmares of what she had done. Over and over, she saw herself injecting the serum into Sam’s body, and over and over she tried to stop herself but never could. The shine of the syringe was a fixture in Willow’s mind. Sometimes, she thought it was a curse that she had been dealt, other times she thought it as a miracle of what may come. A cure.

  When Willow looked at Sam, her eyes were red. Her head was rested to the back of the bed, but even that seemed to take too much of Sam’s energy.

  “Sam?” Willow said.

  Sam blinked and a tear rippled down. She was exhausted even though she never left her bed. She had tried numerous times to lift herself just enough to look out the window, but even such a menial task proved to be too much.

  Willow watched her as Sam let one cheek lift into a smile and it settled again into a slight frown.

  “How do you feel?” She took her small notebook out of her scrubs and opened it to the last page she had written something. In fine cursive were all of Sam’s medical information that may be pertinent in finding a cure. It felt immoral to hold onto the notebook, but she knew that if she was going to help Sam get better, and help anyone else with Alzheimer’s, she had to take full advantage of the situation. Willow had stopped asking herself why she had injected Sam; now she only focused on fixing it so she could fix others as well. The cure came at a price, and she had already paid.

  “Fine,” Sam said. She looked over Willow from top to bottom. She was looking for something, though Sam wasn’t sure what that something was.

  “I’m here to do a few tests on you to see how you’re functioning. Can you answer a few questions for me?”

  Sam watched her. She never sat down like her doctor would and she wasn’t sure why. There was a biting feeling in the back of her mind as Willow came closer and for a moment Sam panicked. She wanted to roll out of the bed, not caring if she landed on the floor, but only caring if she could get away. The machine beside her bed began to spike and she knew Willow could hear her heartbeat. The transparency terrified her.

  “Can you name the four seasons?”

  The question took her aback.

  “Summer, winter, spring and fall.” She watched Willow. She was holding a notebook but every now and then she could see her flip through the pages.

  “Can you name four words that start with the letter A?”

  “Apples, applesauce, ant, anteater,” she said. “My doctor has already been asking me these questions.”

  Her jaw clenched. She was agitated.

  Sam kept looking past Willow to the door, making sure it never bolted shut. The only thing that calmed her was the occasional nurse or doctor that walked by in the distance.

  “I know, we just want to make sure there hasn’t been any changes since he last saw you.”

  Sam wanted to fight back, but try as she might she couldn’t remember when she had last seen her doctor. She knew he had been there recently, though just how long ago was lost to her.

  “Can you tell me your doctor’s name?” Willow asked.

  Sam opened her mouth to speak but then shut it just as quickly.

  His name? She supposed it must have been written down on his uniform, and that she had read it, and that maybe he had even introduced himself multiple times, but there was no memory.

  “I don’t know,” she said. She tried to make the answer seem blasé, that it was totally normal that she didn’t know or remember her doctor’s name, but the words felt bitter coming off her tongue. She should remember, but she couldn’t.

  “What about today’s date?”

  It was the same question her doctor had asked and she still didn’t have an answer, but this time she didn’t want to try to give an answer.

  “I don’t know,” she said, her voice was getting lower and the agitation was growing.

  “How about we start off with the month?” Willow’s words were gentle.

  Sam took a deep breath before she spoke. “I said, I don’t know.”

  She wasn’t sure if she was mad at Willow or at herself for not being able to answer, but either way the tears started before she could do anything about it.

  “Sam, take a deep breath.”

  Sam ignored the words. Her heart began to pound and though she was breathing, it felt like there was never enough oxygen. She closed her eyes in an attempt to calm down.

  Sam wanted to have an answer. She hated not knowing and she didn’t want this woman to keep asking questions.

  “I need you to listen to me.” When Sam heard the voice she knew it was too close. She opened her eyes to find Willow leaning close, her arm reached out for her shoulder.

  “Don’t touch me!” Sam yelled.

  Her face was a scarlet red, and her voice hit a higher octave. When she screamed, it was hard to deceiver whether it was from fear or anger, but whatever emotion it was, it did not want to be quelled.

  “Shhh,” Willow said. She pulled her hand away, but failed to physically step aside. Sam’s eyes darted around the room, always coming back to Willow to make sure she didn’t come closer.

  “Where’s my doctor?” she asked, her voice shrill.

  “He’s with another patient right now,” Willow said.

  Again, her eyes roamed the room, looking for a sign that what Willow said was true. The call button sat next to Sam’s bed and before Willow could follow her eyes, she pressed it. The feeling was lack-luster. There was no beep or flashing. For all she knew the button was unplugged.

  A beeper went off on Willow. She looked away from Sam to turn it off.

  “I’m right here, you don’t need to hit the call button,” she said.

  “I want to see my doctor.” In her mind, the words came out firm and brave, but when they lingered in the air, a hint of hysteria was here.

  “He’ll be coming in to check on you later.”

  Sam could hear Willow sigh as she put the notebook down and stepped over to the left side of the bed to check the IV. When Willow was walking over, Sam could see the pages of the small notebook, the writing much too unorganized for proper medical records. She could swear her name was etched all over the pages.

  “I’ll let Dr. Ash know you want to see him,” she said, finishing with the IV. She left the room, and for a moment Sam felt like maybe she had won.

  Chapter 17

  Shelly didn’t protest when Avery stepped out the door with nothing but her purse and cell phone. She had just finished speaking to the fire department, and she knew Avery needed space to process the news—or lack of news. Shelly’s lips turned down when she watched Avery climb into her car in the front yard.

  “Don’t come home late, and call if you need anything,” Shelly said.

  “I will, I love you!” Avery shouted across the driveway as she sat in the car and closed the door. She heard a muffed r
eply from Shelly as Avery put the car into gear and backed out of the driveway. The tears came after Shelly was out of sight, and they ran down her face in small streams.

  Avery wasn’t sure where she was going. She turned up the music in the car until the song on the radio blurred out her thoughts. The tank in the car was full, she could go anywhere, but all places far away meant driving by her parents’ house.

  She supposed she could have driven by fast, never giving a glance out the window, but as her car approached, she found herself slowing down to a halt. She turned the hazard lights on in her car and stepped out.

  The entry to the house was the only thing that remained normal. The shutters, which has once been a muted tan, were now stained with black soot. The roof of her home was caving in from where the flames had started to eat away at it from the middle.

  This was all that was left. Her home was in rubble. Soot was pouring out of the doorway and windows, begging to be released. The grass around the house was still dead, some of it singed away completely.

  She walked until she was at the front door, caution tape safe-guarding her home. She stretched her hand under the tape until her fingers tightened around the doorknob and pushed open. She almost expected the metal to burn her fingers.

  She slipped under the tape and shut the door behind herself.

  It felt like she was looking at a ghost. Everything around her was charred and burnt. Layers of ash coated the walls, leaving everything black and brown. Ash was still floating in the air. Every step she took disturbed the dust and kicked it back into the air. The hardwood was coated and streaked with ghosts of flames. The carpet that was on the stairs was burnt and charred.

  Avery walked up the stairs, testing each step as she went. Sam’s room was the first one at the top of the stairs. The door was kicked down and laid off to the side in the room. Sam’s belongings were unharmed, save for a small coating of ash.

  Sam’s bed was unmade, like at any moment she might come back to curl in for the night. Avery smiled when she saw a familiar face at the edge of Sam’s pillow.

  — — — — —

  “Hey.” Sam was the first one to speak when Avery stepped through the door.

  “I brought you something,” Avery said. She held a gift bag out to Sam as she walked into the room. Sam waited until Avery pulled a chair over to the side of the bed before she tried to sit up. The movements were slow and timid, but once she was seated Avery gave her the bag.

  “Thank you,” she said. She pulled the gift-basket onto her bed and pulled the tissue paper away. A little stuffed dog was inside. His floppy ears were worn and his fur was a little too textured to be new. Sam pulled the stuffed animal to her face and buried her nose in his fur. Smoke filled her nostrils and she pulled him away. If she looked close, she thought she could see bits of ash in his fur.

  “Do you remember him?” Avery asked.

  Sam looked over to Avery while she held the dog. She felt a vague familiarity when Avery spoke, but otherwise she didn’t know what Avery was talking about.

  “Dad bought you him after a trip to the dentist. It was the only way he could get you through the day. I went to the dentist that day too, but I didn’t pitch a fit so I left empty-handed.”

  As Avery spoke, it was like puzzle pieces were being fit into place. Sam didn’t have to struggle for an answer; Avery found it before she had to look.

  “I was so mad you got a stuffed animal that day, so I kept complaining until Dad bought me one too.” She laughed to herself and smiled. “You named the dog Arnold, right? I can’t remember.” The nostalgia of the moment didn’t hide the dark circles under her eyes. Her body seemed barely able to hold itself up in the chair.

  “Your guess is as good as mine.” Sam barely recognized the little dog, though the story rang a bell. She held Arnold in her arms, feeling his fur, waiting for something else to click into place but it never came.

  “How have you been feeling? Avery asked.

  Sam looked into the plastic eyes of the dog, the sewn-in smile. “A little lost,” she said.

  “Me too.” The words were heavy when Avery spoke. Whatever happiness she had found talking about the stuffed dog slipped through the air in just a handful of seconds. “I went back to our house,” Avery said.

  Sam put the dog on her lap to look at Avery. Her eyebrows furrowed together.

  “They haven’t really done much except block things off. There wasn’t much to see.”

  Sam looked back at the little dog in her hands. The smell of smoke seemed more pungent on him than she had first noticed. She brushed away at his fur and small bits of soot floated in the air.

  “When was the fire?” Sam asked.

  Her eyes stayed on Arnold. She couldn’t remember all the memories he held, but she could feel them. This wasn’t just a little stuffed dog. He meant something. She imagined flames curling up and around Arnold’s body, and she wondered how he had survived.

  “Sam?” She lifted her head and saw Avery looking at her. She wore a deep frown, her eyes glossy. “You don’t remember?” Avery said.

  Sam shifted the dog in her hands. He was just barely the size of her palm, and his legs flopped in whatever direction you turned him, but looking at him could not lift Sam away from Avery’s face. Her sister looked back at her stunned, anguish written all over her.

  “I know there was a fire,” Sam said. There were bright flames of red streaking across her memory, the feeling of singed skin and lungs unable to breathe. “That’s all I know.”

  The two girls were silent as the moment was held in the air. Neither could look at the other.

  “Am I going to be okay?” Sam asked. She couldn’t stop looking at the stuffed dog.

  Avery looked at the tight grip Sam had on Arnold, and she placed her own hands over hers. Sam relaxed, but only enough to let her hands loosen.

  “You’ll be fine, it just takes time.” As Avery said the words she knew how feeble they sounded.

  “But it’s not just the fire, it’s everything,” Sam said.

  “Like what?”

  “I don’t know what month it is, never mind what day. The doctor keeps asking me these questions, and sometimes I don’t know the answer. I should know. It’s stupid things, simple things, but I don’t know.”

  “It’s March,” Avery said. “March 19th. It’s Saturday.”

  It was the most information anyone had given her. For so many days the doctor and nurses have been asking questions, without once giving her an answer. How was she ever supposed to know an answer if they always left her wondering? Sam stored the information away for later use.

  “Did you come alone?” Sam asked.

  “Yeah, after leaving our house I wanted to drop off Arnold.”

  “Oh,” Sam said. Her eyes lingered on the stuffed dog. She pet his fur, searching for answers that couldn’t be found. She felt like she was losing something that was in her grasp but was being pushed farther away.

  “Avery?” Sam said when she hadn’t gotten an answer. Her voice wavered with panic as she spoke. The possibilities hung between them. For now, Sam lived in a world where their parents were still alive, but that world was about to be shattered.

  Sam looked down at Arnold, the soot on his tail. “What happened with the fire?” she asked.

  Avery wanted to speak and tell her the truth, but if she were Sam and could choose to live in ignorance for just a little while longer, she thought she would choose that. But there was always the fear that maybe Sam would ask again where their parents were, and lying twice seemed like too much.

  “Avery,” Sam said again. Her voice was dropping. She already knew something was wrong.

  “Sam, our parents are dead.” Avery said the words quickly. Someone who didn’t know her might think that the words were too blunt, but for someone who knew Avery like Sam did, she knew that speaking the words were just as hard as Sam hearing them. The cold emotions threatened to grip Avery and take her under again as she let the tea
rs erupt.

  Sam wanted to react like Avery, to just let all the emotion lift and take her away, but instead she could feel herself becoming this numb, a lost figure in her own world.

  “In the fire,” Sam said.

  Avery nodded her head after she took a deep breath. It was one of those moments where words would never fix anything. The gash in the heart was too deep to heal, though there was a hope that possibly time would stitch up the wound.

  “Sam?” Avery said. She took another breath. “I’m going to go.”

  “I’m sorry I can’t remember,” Sam said.

  Avery never said why she had to leave, but Sam knew it was because visiting her was like re-opening a wound. Avery couldn’t heal if she had to keep re-living what had happened.

  “It’s okay, Sam. You just need time.”

  Avery left the room and Sam couldn’t help but wonder what time would do. Bring back her memories? She wondered if she wanted the memories of the fire, or if she was better off pretending like it never happened. Would she soon adjust to a life without her parents, without having to question where they were or why they’d disappeared?

  — — — — —

  “Excuse me?” Avery’s eyes were freshly dried, though still red-rimmed. Her hand lingered on a nurse’s shoulder, and the woman turned to look at her. “Who do I talk to about my sister? She’s in room 316?”

  “That’s Dr. Ash’s patient. Would you like to speak with him?”

  “If I could,” she said.

  “Let me see if he’s busy,” she said, putting some things down on a cart.

  Avery stood in the hall outside Sam’s room for so long she assumed the nurse had forgotten about her until she saw a man approaching her. He held himself with the type of confidence that only comes with years of experience in the field.

  “You’re Sam’s sister, right?” he said, offering his hand out. “What’s your name again?”

  “Avery,” she said, shaking his hand, but his grip was too tight. She stepped farther away.

  “Have you seen her today?” He looked past Avery to the room Sam was in.

  “I was just with her, and I had a few questions.” Avery paused to take a breath. “She doesn’t remember the fire or our parents dying. When I was here last week we had to tell her our parents died in the fire and just now…it was like we had never had that conversation. She completely forgot.”