Forgetting August(5)
“Miss Adams?” a woman said on the other end.
“Yes,” I answered.
“This is Doctor Lawrence from St. Marcus Hospital.”
My heart began to beat frantically as my hand sought out something solid to hold me up. I knew it was coming. Like a freight train in the middle of the night, I could see the light off in the distance…I knew what was coming.
Who was coming.
“He’s awake.”
The phone hit the floor seconds before I did, and then the world went black.
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Chapter Two
August
I need a doctor in here!” someone shouted. I felt my lungs expanding, gasping for air. “Breathe! Look at me!” she yelled once more. My eyes opened, as blinding white light burned my retinas, making the room blurry and distorted. Instinctively lifting my hand, I tried to block it out, but felt held back by cords and wires.
“I’m Nurse Amy. Do you know where you are?” the woman asked. “You haven’t spoken in a very long time—your throat will be hoarse. Please don’t try to speak.”
Long time? Nurse?
I blinked, looking around, as I waited for the spots and auras to dissipate. Fuzzy white walls came into focus as I looked down to see my own limp body below, covered in stiff bleached blankets. I flexed my hand and felt my bones cracking like ancient tree branches. I looked down at my arm, noticed the tape around the crook of my arm—for an IV, perhaps?
“Sir, are you all right? Do you understand what I’m saying?”
I looked up to see Nurse Ally or Amy, a young blonde, staring at me with concern and perhaps what might have been a bit of shock. I nodded, narrowing my eyes as I tried to gauge her appearance. Did I know her?
“Do you know where you are?” she repeated. “Just shake your head for yes or no.”
I shook my head no, the muscles in my neck feeling tight and thin.
Just then an older man dressed in a white lab coat and scrubs appeared in the doorway.
“You called for his doctor,” he said absently, searching through a paper chart as he sauntered in. His eyes lifted and met mine.
“Good god,” he whispered, the clipboard falling to the floor with a clatter. Leaving the mess of papers where they fell, he stepped forward as his wide look of surprise and wonder stayed solely focused on me.
“I was doing chart updates and he suddenly took a large gasp of air. I thought he was flatlining, but then his eyes popped open and he was fully awake. I’ve never heard of such a thing.”
The man just stared at me, eyes full of shock.
“Doctor, are you all right?” The nurse asked, glancing over at the aged man with concern. His gray eyebrows furrowed together as his frozen statue of a frame narrowed in on me.
“Yes. Yes, of course. We need to run vitals right away,” the old man said, still seeming to be stuck in some sort of trance.
“Amazing,” the doctor managed to say as I watched him and the young nurse hover over me like some crazy science experiment.
It made me suddenly wary of my situation.
The nurse scuttled away and I was suddenly left alone with the ancient doctor.
“Do you remember how you got here?” he asked, pushing a chair toward the bed. He took a seat, resting a clipboard on his lap as he calmly folded his legs and held a pen ready for notes.
“I—” That single word felt like sandpaper and sent me into a sudden coughing fit that had no end.
A hand pushed me forward and patted my back, attempting to calm me.
“Take your time,” he said, rising to walk toward the sink. He returned seconds later with a paper cup filled with water.
“Just small sips at first,” he directed, as I brought the cup to my lips. The process, although it should have been second nature to me, seemed clumsy and new. My hands shook, and my arms felt tired from the strain. I nearly missed my mouth and had to look down as the cup met my mouth, drops of water spilling all over my thin hospital gown.
I was like a child. A feeble, helpless child.
The cool water soothed my aching throat though, and provided much needed relief as I finally found the words I’d wanted to say since my eyes cracked open.
“I…remember…nothing,” I answered hoarsely, the truth hurting more than any pain or ache could.
* * *
Nothing.
My former life was an endless tunnel of oblivion, where there was no beginning or end. There were no ups or downs or signs to tell me of the twisty turns up ahead. There wasn’t a highlight reel—no cliff notes to remind me of what had occurred or transpired.
It all came crashing down to one singular word.
Nothing.
No matter how many questions they asked, my answer remained the same.
I remembered absolutely nothing.