Remembering That Night. Stephanie Doyle
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it disturbingly intimate.
He was twisting now, moaning, and the forces of sleep fought against her relentless attack.
“Please wake up.” She hated the desperation in her voice. Hated the panic that was threatening to overwhelm her, but she had to leave this place. She had to find out where she came from.
Finally he lowered his arm and blinked open his eyes. After taking a moment to understand that he was on the couch and a strange woman was standing over him shaking his arm, recognition dawned on his face.
Along with suspicion.
“What’s the matter?”
“We have to leave. You have to help me look for where I live. I think New Jersey makes more sense. The city doesn’t feel right. It’s too noisy. I think if I lived in Philadelphia I would be used to the noise but I’m not. Maybe closer to the shore. I know it sounds crazy, but I was lying in bed and I thought what if I have a dog. It will be hungry and trapped inside.”
Greg slowly pulled himself into a sitting position. “Hang on. What time is it?”
“Almost five in the morning. Please, I know it’s a lot to ask but I have to try.”
He rubbed his hands vigorously over his face and finally looked at her. Really looked at her.
“You want to drive around South Jersey looking for the place you live, without having any idea of where that actually is, because you think you might have a dog?”
“I don’t know if I have a dog.” She got up from where she’d been kneeling and began pacing in front of the couch. She pulled on her fingers and listened to her knuckles crack, then dropped her hands to her sides immediately, having a sense she wasn’t supposed to do that.
Young ladies don’t crack their knuckles.
Greg was right. Manners were important to her. Someone had given her a sense of what was proper and what wasn’t. She could feel it.
“If you don’t know, then why are you so upset?”
“Because what if I do? I might have left not knowing I was going to be away a whole day. It could be hungry or thirsty. Trapped in a house with no access to food or water.”
Greg blinked. “Let me get this straight. You’re worried you might have a dog but not worried you might have a husband who doesn’t know where you are?”
“A husband can feed himself and pour his own drink. He might be scared, but he won’t be helpless or vulnerable.”
“What about a kid?”
“I wouldn’t have left a child alone. Someone would be watching it.”
He nodded. “Then I take it you’re not a cat person.”
“I love all animals!” That felt right. It wasn’t a memory but it was a sense she had. Of who she was. She would take that as a sign that she was getting better but it wasn’t fast enough. “Cats are more independent. A dog needs to be walked and fed every day. Please. I know it sounds crazy. If we drive around I’m sure it will come back to me. I know I’ll remember.”
He reached out while she was pacing and grabbed her wrist. With a yank he pulled her down onto the couch next to him. It was warm where he had stretched over it and she felt the side of his body pressed against her arm. She shivered.
“Listen to me, you’re panicking again.”
She was. She could feel it coming on. Her heart started to race and her lungs tightened. Deep breaths, deep breaths. “I feel out of control.”
“That’s perfectly natural. In this situation you are out of control.”
She shook her head. “I don’t like it. I don’t like feeling this way.”
“Who does?”
She looked at him then and there was a calmness about him. She sensed that he’d seen people in her state before and it didn’t rattle him.
“Keep breathing,” he ordered. “Tell me quick, gut reaction. You like big dogs or small dogs?”
“Big dogs. They make me feel safe.”
He nodded. “Okay, if you have a dog, especially a big one, that would mean you probably live in a house. Someplace with a backyard so he could run around.”
“I hope so. Big dogs need space.” She clutched her chest as she was gripped by an overwhelming feeling of sadness. She wanted to cry but she had no reason for it.
“Well, if you live in a house, then I bet you have neighbors. And if you live in a neighborhood, I’m guessing you know everyone on the street because you would be out walking the dog. A neighbor who knows you and your dog might see that you didn’t come home last night and might hear your dog barking. Maybe this neighbor would have a spare key. To collect your mail when you go on vacation, or let the dog out when you’re not there. I’m sure if there is a dog, everything will be fine.”
Her breathing calmed as he spoke and when she looked at him, she could at least believe he was being sincere and not patronizing.
“I woke up and realized I still didn’t have my memory and I flipped out a little. I’m sorry I woke you.”
“You should be sorry. I am not a morning person.”
She smiled. “You were a little hard to wake up.”
He smiled back. “Just be grateful you weren’t trying to wake Chuck. He’s worse than I am and he flails.”
“I thought I would be better.” Her voice cracked and she hated how completely broken she sounded.
He bumped her shoulder with his. “Can I make an observation?”
“You’re asking me? If I recall last night, and I do at least remember that, you’ve already made several.”
“Did it upset you?”
She shook her head. “I was ready to cling to anything you told me. Hoping it might trigger something. You can’t know how this feels. It’s like an emptiness. I want to say I’ve never felt anything like it before but...”
“But what?”
“I feel lost,” she said, dropping her head. Shame, deep shame, replaced the sadness she’d previously been feeling. “I feel like it’s not the first time, either. Like I’ve been here before. In this mental place. Only I don’t know when or why. I only know I hate it. What was your observation?”
“That. What you just did. Dropping your head, covering your face with your hair. You’re going through this major thing right now where you don’t know who or what you are. You should be angry this happened to you. You should be scared shitless. Instead I feel as if you’re...embarrassed.”
Embarrassment. Shame’s weaker twin. He was right. She needed to get over these feelings and start thinking about a plan of action. “I’m sorry I woke you. I should let you get back to sleep.”
“Yeah, that’s not going to happen now. How about I make us some coffee?”
“Okay. I don’t think I could sleep now, either. How soon do you think we can call the doctor at Thomas Jefferson to see about scheduling an appointment? I’m hoping I can walk or take the Speedline to get there. Then I won’t have to be a burden on you.”
“You call it the Speedline,” Greg noted as he stood. “Not the subway. You’re definitely a Jersey girl.”
He snatched up his T-shirt which reminded her that he was half-naked. Half-naked with a lean sculpted chest, covered in the same dark hair that stuck out messily on his head. She looked away as he dressed and padded over to the kitchen on the bare feet that had startled her earlier. He scooped out some ground coffee and put it in a filter.
She wasn’t sure why but she considered his nonanswer