NOEMIE
Another evening, another delivered note
Another night of no sleep until I give in.
These songs, these songs of my childhood, that make up my DNA, how does he know them, know their effect on me?
I don’t know.
But with scribbled pieces of paper – something is happening.
The image of his face grows clearer. I might’ve only seen him for a few moments that day he came into my room, but it’s like the lines that shape him in my mind are becoming more detailed. The green in his eyes are more pronounced, like they’ve been run through a color filter. Tiny creases appear along the very corner of his eyes.
The reflection of gold from the strands of hair in his long fringe.
It’s like I’ve seen it all before, and it’s coming back to me. And if he’s to be believed, I guess I have. Somewhere. Sometime.
And he’s building it all back in my memory.
Or better yet.
He’s making me draw it myself, stroke by stroke, note by note, conjuring from a past we shared but only one can recount.
Who is he?
And when is he going to come back for me?
***
“How do you feel today, Noemie?” The psych resident asks me, as she does at the start of all of our weekly sessions.
“Good. I think.”
“You don’t know?” She leans forward, her forearms on her knees, peering at me. Not harshly, caringly.
“No. I mean, I’m not sure.”
“What are you not sure about?” she prods. She’s good at that.
“I feel like I know everything, remember everything. But I guess I don’t. You don’t know what you’ve forgotten. It’s weird.” I shrug.
“I guess it can be very confusing for you.”
“It is.” I nod and stare out the window. These sessions are voluntary. They thought I might like someone to talk to, to try to help navigate my injury, my amnesia. Someone to help me deal with having a giant black hole in what I remember about my own life. I don’t know if she’s helped, but it’s good to have someone to vent to. “Do you, do you think you can retroactively create a memory? Something that never happened. Can you create a memory of that?”
“I don’t understand, how can you remember something that never happened?”
“I don’t know. But… suddenly, I feel like. I feel like I’ve known someone my whole life. But I have no recollection of them.”
“Maybe you have met them, you just don’t remember?”
“No, a person like this, I couldn’t ever forget. Maybe I’ve just always known him, I just didn’t know I did.”
“Maybe. Or maybe there’s something in your brain telling you that you want to know him now.”
JEZ
It’s dark. Anca is asleep in the seat next to me. She’s hugging her bear. She loves that thing. She’s still so mad I tried to hide it from her yesterday, I don’t think she’s let it go all day.
The car is going so fast, I can only just make out the moon peeping out through the tree branches.
Whoosh, whoosh, whoooooosh. They’re saying to me as they whizz by.
I’m glad they’re out there and I’m in there.
It looks cold and lonely out there. It’s nice and warm and toasty in the car.
Mom and Dad are talking about something in the front. Mom’s saying something, loud, like she’s yelling at Dad, but they’re both laughing.
It’s probably about someone at Mom’s work or Grampa saying something silly. They like laughing together about that.
The song in my ear phones ends, and press repeat.
It’s a French song. One off Mom’s old cassette tapes that I used to hear her sing. She has a beautiful voice. Maybe I should ask if she will sing along with me playing cello again tomorrow. It’s been a long time since we did that. Maybe we’ll pick a song Dad likes and can make a surprise concert for him. He’d like that. Of course, Anca will have to be given something to do, maybe she can introduce us. Give her a chance to wear a pretty dress.
I’m sleepy.
We’ve been in the car for a while, we must be getting close to home.
Maybe I can just close my eyes and have a quick nap.
“Mommy?”
“Yes, Jez?”
“Wake me up when we get home okay?”
Okay, baby. You get some sleep.”
Mommy reaches out to pat me on the leg.
Dad turns around and gives me a quick smile, “Sweet dream, Jez. Don’t worry about a thing. We’ll keep you safe.”
I fall asleep to the sound of their whispers.
Warm. Safe. Happy.
I open my eyes, and I’m back in my white room. My pillow is soaked; from sweat, from tears?
It doesn’t really matter.
I just squeeze my eyes tight, and try to fall back to sleep.
Back to my dream.
NOEMIE
“Your mom called today,” Paige tells me, about an hour after she’s been here. She’s spent the time catching me up on her love dramas and how her Dad wants her to start thinking about working for him next year. She still thinks that’s pretty funny.
“Mom called you?”
“Yeah. She didn’t want to disturb you in case you were sleeping. And um, I think she wanted me to be the one to tell you.”
“Tell me what?”
“They, um, they’re probably not going to be able to come visit next week, like they planned.” She crunches her face up, probably annoyed she had to deliver the bad news. “I’m so sorry, I know how much you were looking forward to it.”
“Oh.” The room suddenly seems darker, like someone’s accidentally leaned on the light dimmer, throwing sinister shadows against the walls. I’d been counting the minutes until my family were going to come from Maine. They’d only been to visit once before, right after I was in the hospital. And even in those few days, everything was easier. “Did they say why?”
“Yeah, um, your mom and sister couldn’t get vacation time off like their boss had promised. Something about one of the other workers having to take some sudden time off for sickness.”
“Oh.” I nod, trying to understand.
“I’m so sorry,” she says again. And I know she is. She’s always been a little envious of my family and loves having them around almost as much as I do.
“It’s… it’s okay,” I say, but it’s not. Suddenly the next day and week or however long I’m stuck here seems that much harder.
“Hey, I’m sure they’ll sort something out and come over soon.”
“Yeah, sure.” I wave off her attempt to comfort me.
“Aaannd, you might not even be here in a week!” Her voice is louder and higher pitched now, like she’s trying to lighten the mood just with her perkiness.
“Yup. Maybe.”