Chapter 11 #2
I think about the words ‘professional’ and ‘counselling’ for a while after everyone has left the room.
The display of my phone confirms to me over and over that this is the year 2024.
I grasp the device tightly in my clammy hands.
I want to believe this reality, I want to trust that this is truly my future, that this is where my life has led me.
The same stubborn headache from when I woke up is back, the pain knocking at my temples insistently. Where do I start? How do I do this alone? The answer is obvious: I don’t do this alone.
One year without panic attacks, Ash said earlier. Hurriedly, I reach for the phone again and unlock it. I search in my emails and I find the contact of my therapist Dr. Bakari. I go through the comfortable back and forth that is me requesting an appointment and Dr. Bakari confirming a date back.
The last conversation is at the beginning of July 2024 and I pinch my nose looking at the date. I compare it with today’s date and I suppose I will have to believe technology when it tells me this is September of the year 2024.
My breathing turns shallower as I go back to my emails.
I swipe my thumbs quickly across the screen to type a new conversation to Dr. Bakari, requesting a meeting at his earliest convenience.
I add a note to book a longer session than normal, imagining that our usual fifty minutes wouldn’t be enough time to cover what I have to say.
I look away waiting for a response and it’s not long before the phone alerts me of a new email. Dr. Bakari is offering me a session later this afternoon and I agree to it quickly. I check the time, calculating about four hours to get myself ready.
After a wobbly trip to the bathroom and a meal of white rice and ice-cream I lay back on the hospital bed. Although I don’t feel particularly tired, I yawn once and then, somehow, fall asleep immediately.
The short nap gives me new energy.
Grasping the phone, I start reading through my contacts. While some names I recognise, some are completely new.
There’s Adam from my old rugby team at uni, Dentist Vanessa and Mae from the Opera North Orchestra.
Sydney and Darshi I know, obviously. They are Ash’s school friends.
He’s known them for years, and for some reason they’re saved under only one contact.
But it is to be expected. I know them as “Sydney and Darshi” and I have no idea what they are when separated.
I recognise Lily Hale, my mother, and I’m not surprised at the formality with which I have saved her. I wonder where in the world she is, right now. Bergman Twin A must be Martin, Bergman Twin B must be Edwin but as I stare at Bergman Twin C I’m confused, why would I save Erik like this?
And just like that I have no idea who Pippa’s Mom is, why I have three different social workers saved (Social Worker Mary, Social Worker Christo and Social Worker Sadaf) and why Theodora’s contact is saved twice.
I’m completely lost.
When I finally find Vicky’s contact at the bottom of the list, I’m incredibly relieved. Vicky was my roommate during my last year at university and she has been my closest friend since then. With the exclusion of Ash, naturally, but now that Ash is my boyfriend I assume Vicky is my closest friend.
My thoughts are suddenly too complicated and I realise I have no idea where Vicky and I stand in 2024. I don’t know where she is, or why she hasn’t come to visit me at all since I’ve woken up in the hospital. The last thought hurts. Opening our conversation, I send her a text.
(Me) Are we still friends in 2024?
(Vicky) Believe me I have tried ridding myself of you.
The answer is just quintessentially Vicky, ominous and never comforting. She asks no questions and either has Ash been talking to her, or Vicky has assumed this is just me being me again.
Leaning back on the bed, I consider ringing her and asking her all the questions that have been swirling in my head like a crazy tornado.
I imagine how our conversation would go. Me, desperate. Vicky, a little impatient, a little mean, and very direct.
Yeah, that’s not what I need right now. Right now, I need comfort. I need my family. So, instead, I find the contact of my dad and I ring him. He picks up instantly.
“Dad?”
“Hello Fordy, how are you? Got your mobile back?”
Hearing his voice almost brings tears to my eyes. The worst part about moving to Sheffield was being away from my dad and not seeing him every day. In uni, I used to call him every evening to make up for how little I visited.
“Yes, Ash had it restored for me.” Just mentioning Ash’s name reminds me of how dry my lips are.
“Smart kid,” my dad comments. I know that he has always considered Ash as part of the family, but now Ash actually is part of the family.
The thought makes me flush and I forget I’m supposed to be speaking with my dad.
He’s asking me question after question and I only catch the last one, “…You remember anything?”
I fill in the blanks and deliver the sentence I have rehearsed. “Not quite, but the doctors are confident I will recover in no time.”
“It’s been four weeks, though,” my dad points out. He was never the kind of dad who lies to protect his children but right now, I wish he was.
“I know, Dad. I don’t know why this is happening.”
My dad sighs into the phone and I’m tempted to ask where he is, what he’s doing, just to get him talking about something that isn’t my fucked up brain.
“How have you been otherwise?” Dad asks me to change the topic and I’m relieved.
I tell him about my progress, about my trip to the bathroom and my appointment with Dr. Bakari.
Dad listens to me and I can picture him sitting by a window stroking his long blonde beard.
We have been told many times how similar we look, the only difference being the red curly hair I take after my mother.
Down to our voices, I’m my father’s son through and through.
When I’m done talking, Dad says, “I’m so glad to hear you are doing better, Ford. You were in very bad shape.”
“Perhaps you could visit again when I’m discharged?” I suggest.
My dad pauses before replying. “That would be nice,” he says.
I’m not sure why it sounds insincere but dad never lies to me. Talking to my dad is like a balm and I almost don’t want to say goodbye. He makes me promise to ring him again tomorrow and of course I will.
Before I hang up, my dad stops me. “Call your mother too, will you?”
I assure him I will, after I have therapy. The comment makes my dad laugh but I know he cannot blame me. Lily Hale is no easy woman. I need preparation.
The rest of the afternoon goes by quickly and before I know it, it is time for my therapy appointment.
I don’t know if I’m ready but I take a deep breath, finding the link to my online session. I connect to the call, adjusting the camera until it shows a decent angle of my shoulders and face. I look tired with deep bags under my eyes and low eyelids but this is exactly how I’m feeling.
Dr. Bakari’s face comes into view. “It’s good to see you, Ashford. How have you been?”
“Been a while,” I tell Dr. Bakari and then I pause to reflect on his question. Speaking with Dr. Bakari, I learned to bypass small talk and go for honesty. How have I been? “I’ve been better” I admit without shame.
Dr. Bakari smiles at me and the background of his studio is a soothing image, something I know, something normal.
There are two pictures at either side of his head, two perspectives of the same leafy forest. The trees are tall and the sun is reflecting on each branch.
Underneath it there is the same collection of books and I recognise some titles from our previous meetings.
The next hour I spend giving a complete summary of my current situation to my therapist. I tell him about the accident, about the amnesia and about the panic attack. I’m honest about the overwhelming feeling of not knowing anything, anyone.
Dr. Bakari asks me a number of questions.
Where am I? I think I’m in Sheffield, England. I have been living here since university and I love the city. It’s the perfect size, has the perfect amount of pubs and I have no reason to believe I have moved. I even like the sweats I get when walking up and down the stupid hills.
What am I? I have no reason to think I’ve changed jobs and Ash hasn’t mentioned anything specific.
Dr. Bakari recommends speaking with Ash about my job as this might help gaining back some sense of self.
Out loud I wonder if I’m still playing the guitar and writing music and Dr. Bakari smiles at that.
If this is part of you, he says, then it is still what you are.
Who am I? The straightforward answer is I’m Ford.
Almost thirty. I wear black because I’m too lazy to wash colours separately, I like sports and I don’t eat meat.
The more complicated answer is that I am Ford.
Almost thirty. I’m a partner and a father.
I choke on the last word and Dr. Bakari asks me the next question.
Why are you a father? The question sends me on a spiral. I don’t know, I never really thought much about it. I have no idea how I would agree to adoption, I know nothing about raising kids. Noticing my distress, Dr. Bakari asks me another question.
Why are you in a relationship with Ash in 2024? This I don’t know either, but I can imagine why. I have questioned my feelings for Ash more than once in our friendship. The same way I have questioned Ash’s feelings for me. This relationship is the least surprising of it all, I tell Dr. Bakari.
Finally, he asks me about the panic attack and together we go through my coping techniques when I’m feeling I have no control. Dr. Bakari reminds me to be kind to myself in this very particular situation.
“As you gradually get your memories back, it will often feel as if you have no control. You have no say over what your brain chooses to retain and what you will gain back. Right now you feel as if fatherhood was not your choice but rather something that is disrupting the balance you had in 2022. Try to find comfort in the fact that you are the same person in 2024 that you were in 2022 and in 2023. You are the same person that has fallen in love with Ashley and has decided to adopt a child with him. The present might appear intense and oppressive to you but try to remember that the memories are still your own. What now seems out of your agency was exactly what you once chose. With time, you will remember why.”
After I close the call with Dr. Bakari I rub my eyes, feeling completely wiped out and empty. I have not spoken with this many people in weeks and I’m feeling dizzy, almost drunk. I eat my dinner then lay back on the bed, trying to muster the strength to ring my mother.
In the end, I don’t call her.
The days are getting shorter and it is darker in the hospital room. Pulling up the covers to my chin and higher, I hide my face from the world.
In the morning, I find that two texts from Ash are waiting for me. Checking the time, I see he has sent them very early.
(Ashley Bergman Blue Heart) Morning Ford, sorry but I won’t be able to make it back to the hospital today either. Been dealing with our social worker.
And shortly after…
(Ashley Bergman Blue Heart) Got any plans Thursday?
I read them both and chuckle, alone in my hospital room, just because my best friend made a joke. Clearly I must have also forgotten how to act cool in the accident.
(Me) I’ll have to check my calendar.
Could I sound any lamer? Sheepishly I add another message.
(Me) Actually, I might get discharged Thursday.
(Ashley Bergman Blue Heart) Well then it seems we both have plans then. Still missing me?
My fingers hover over the device before I convince myself to answer.
(Me) Embarrassingly so.
And it’s the truth. I’ve never liked being away from Ash.