hospital?
“Have you stolen my kidney?” My voice erupts in a panicky growl. “What have you done to me? You can’t keep me here. I’m calling the police….” I try to struggle out of bed.
“Lexi.” Nicole holds me by the shoulders. “No one’s trying to hurt you. Dr. Harman’s speaking the truth. You’ve lost your memory and you’re confused.”
“It’s natural for you to panic, to believe that there’s some kind of conspiracy. But we’re telling you the truth.” Dr. Harman looks me firmly in the eyes. “You’ve forgotten a chunk of your life, Lexi. You’ve
forgotten
. That’s all.”
I want to cry. I can’t tell if they’re lying, if this is all some massive trick, whether I should trust them or make a run for it…. My head’s whirling with confusion—
Then suddenly I freeze. My hospital-gown sleeve got hitched up as I was struggling and I’ve just spotted a small, distinctive V-shaped scar near my elbow. A scar I’ve never seen before. A scar I don’t recognize.
It’s not new, either. It must be months old.
“Lexi, are you all right?” asks Dr. Harman.
I can’t reply. My eyes are riveted on the unfamiliar scar.
Heart thumping, I slowly move my gaze down to my hands. These nails aren’t acrylics, are they? Acrylics aren’t that good. These are my real, genuine nails. And there’s no way they could have grown this long in five days.
I feel like I’ve swum out of the shallows and found myself in mile-deep gray water.
“You’re saying”—I clear my hoarse throat—“I’ve lost three years of my memory.”
“Well, it’s difficult to be precise, but that’s what it looks like at the moment.” Dr. Harman nods.
“Can I see the newspaper again, please?” My hands are trembling as I take it from Diana. I turn over the pages and every single one has the same dateline.
May 6, 2007. May 6, 2007.
It really is the year 2007. Which means I must be…
Oh my God. I’m twenty-eight.
I’m
old.
Chapter 3
They’ve made me a nice strong cup of tea. Because that cures amnesia, doesn’t it, a cup of tea?
No, stop it. Don’t be so sarky. I’m grateful for the tea. At least it’s something to hold on to. At least it’s something
real.
As Dr. Harman talks about neurological exams and CT scans, I’m somehow managing to keep it together. I’m nodding calmly, as if to say, “Yeah, no problem. I’m cool with all of this.” But inside I’m not remotely cool. I’m freaking. The truth keeps hitting me in the guts, over and over, till I feel giddy.
When at last he gets paged and has to leave, I feel a huge sense of relief. I can’t be talked at anymore. I’m not following any of what he says, anyway. I take a gulp of tea and flop back on my pillows. (Okay, I take it all back about the tea. It’s the best thing I’ve tasted for a long time.)
Maureen has gone off duty and Nicole has stayed in the room and is scribbling on my chart. “How are you feeling?”
“Really, really…
really
weird.” I try to smile.
“I don’t blame you.” She smiles back sympathetically. “Just take it easy. Don’t push yourself. You’ve got a lot to take in. Your brain is trying to reboot itself.”
She consults her watch and writes down the time.
“When people get amnesia,” I venture, “do the missing memories come back?”
“Usually.” She gives a reassuring nod.
I shut my eyes tight and try throwing my mind back as hard as I can. Waiting for it to net something, snag on
something
.
But there’s nothing. Just black, frictionless nothing.
“So, tell me about 2007.” I open my eyes. “Who’s prime minister now? And president of America?”
“That would be Tony Blair,” replies Nicole. “And President Bush.”
“Oh. Same.” I cast around. “So…have they solved global warming? Or cured AIDS?”
Nicole shrugs. “Not yet.”
You’d think a bit more would have happened in three years. You’d think the world would have moved on. I’m a bit unimpressed by
“Have you stolen my kidney?” My voice erupts in a panicky growl. “What have you done to me? You can’t keep me here. I’m calling the police….” I try to struggle out of bed.
“Lexi.” Nicole holds me by the shoulders. “No one’s trying to hurt you. Dr. Harman’s speaking the truth. You’ve lost your memory and you’re confused.”
“It’s natural for you to panic, to believe that there’s some kind of conspiracy. But we’re telling you the truth.” Dr. Harman looks me firmly in the eyes. “You’ve forgotten a chunk of your life, Lexi. You’ve
forgotten
. That’s all.”
I want to cry. I can’t tell if they’re lying, if this is all some massive trick, whether I should trust them or make a run for it…. My head’s whirling with confusion—
Then suddenly I freeze. My hospital-gown sleeve got hitched up as I was struggling and I’ve just spotted a small, distinctive V-shaped scar near my elbow. A scar I’ve never seen before. A scar I don’t recognize.
It’s not new, either. It must be months old.
“Lexi, are you all right?” asks Dr. Harman.
I can’t reply. My eyes are riveted on the unfamiliar scar.
Heart thumping, I slowly move my gaze down to my hands. These nails aren’t acrylics, are they? Acrylics aren’t that good. These are my real, genuine nails. And there’s no way they could have grown this long in five days.
I feel like I’ve swum out of the shallows and found myself in mile-deep gray water.
“You’re saying”—I clear my hoarse throat—“I’ve lost three years of my memory.”
“Well, it’s difficult to be precise, but that’s what it looks like at the moment.” Dr. Harman nods.
“Can I see the newspaper again, please?” My hands are trembling as I take it from Diana. I turn over the pages and every single one has the same dateline.
May 6, 2007. May 6, 2007.
It really is the year 2007. Which means I must be…
Oh my God. I’m twenty-eight.
I’m
old.
Chapter 3
They’ve made me a nice strong cup of tea. Because that cures amnesia, doesn’t it, a cup of tea?
No, stop it. Don’t be so sarky. I’m grateful for the tea. At least it’s something to hold on to. At least it’s something
real.
As Dr. Harman talks about neurological exams and CT scans, I’m somehow managing to keep it together. I’m nodding calmly, as if to say, “Yeah, no problem. I’m cool with all of this.” But inside I’m not remotely cool. I’m freaking. The truth keeps hitting me in the guts, over and over, till I feel giddy.
When at last he gets paged and has to leave, I feel a huge sense of relief. I can’t be talked at anymore. I’m not following any of what he says, anyway. I take a gulp of tea and flop back on my pillows. (Okay, I take it all back about the tea. It’s the best thing I’ve tasted for a long time.)
Maureen has gone off duty and Nicole has stayed in the room and is scribbling on my chart. “How are you feeling?”
“Really, really…
really
weird.” I try to smile.
“I don’t blame you.” She smiles back sympathetically. “Just take it easy. Don’t push yourself. You’ve got a lot to take in. Your brain is trying to reboot itself.”
She consults her watch and writes down the time.
“When people get amnesia,” I venture, “do the missing memories come back?”
“Usually.” She gives a reassuring nod.
I shut my eyes tight and try throwing my mind back as hard as I can. Waiting for it to net something, snag on
something
.
But there’s nothing. Just black, frictionless nothing.
“So, tell me about 2007.” I open my eyes. “Who’s prime minister now? And president of America?”
“That would be Tony Blair,” replies Nicole. “And President Bush.”
“Oh. Same.” I cast around. “So…have they solved global warming? Or cured AIDS?”
Nicole shrugs. “Not yet.”
You’d think a bit more would have happened in three years. You’d think the world would have moved on. I’m a bit unimpressed by
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